#i was in the foyer petting my cat when it happened. that room had lights on but the rest of the downstairs area did not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shesawriter39049 · 4 years ago

Text

|Touch Me, Tease Me| M|

SMUT/ A LIL ANGST

(Gif not related...he just looks...good. like..fuck.)

Pairing : Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon eats you out the minute you walk in the door because well...that’s the kinda husband he is!

Or- Jimin text’s Namjoon to brace him for the mood you’ll more than likely be in after a day full of drama and finally firing the front desk receptionist! Which essentially red for him to make you come hard AF and then feed you....OH, and You guys invite Yoongi over to talk about the Tae and Kookie “Thing”

WARNINGS: Oral/ Fingering/Light dirty talk/ Cum play/Light spit play/Over stimulation(M/F)/Pet names/Hand jobs/Body worshiping/ Is nipple play a thing?????/ (Also it’s not said but it’s somewhat obvious the OC is prob ovulating, since shes super emotional, and overly sensitive rn)

Note: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

WC:5.7K

Song Reference: Case Ft Foxy Brown “Touch Me Tease Me”

Final note: This is apart of a series, and this can be read as a stand alone..since it’s 90% smut lol however some of the references you won’t understand...

~~~~~

......Your tired...it’s been a long ass day.... “Baby?” Namjoon’s voice rings through your apartment the minute the door opens, though you can’t physically see him you still feel that honey-coated baritone run down your spine as it bounces off every wall. You close the door behind you with a heavy sigh, leaning against it letting as if your life depended on it, eyes fluttering shut immediately, more so mentally drained than anything else!

“Yea?” Your response comes out dryer than intended but you know Namjoon knows you well enough to not even be phased by it. You hear his feet patter into the foyer, still not bothering to open your eyes yet, everything just feels so damn heavy that even that alone seems exhausting!

Until eventually you start to feel the steam radiating off his body, followed by the owe so familiar scent of pine and vanilla...His allergies have been killing him lately so he opted to work from home today instead...clearly fresh out the shower.

The weight shifts against the door as he braces his hands on either side of your head, leaning down to nose at your face like a cat. Leaning into his touch as he works his way down your neck, even as gentle as his touch currently is you still feel it everywhere...everything just feels extremely sensitive today! Silently coaxing you to open your eyes, only to be met by those sharp, beautiful brown orbs of his...skin still holding a slight sheen over is tattooed chest..hair damp, face flushed. Nothing discrete in the ways yours eyes greedily unravel his body...not that there's much to unravel anyway. He's only wearing joggers for fucks sake.

Namjoon lets out a low hum, as he places a couple kisses along the hinge of your jaw “I heard someone had a shitty ass day….” He phrases it more of a statement than a question as he nips at your skin, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on the side of your neck as he unties your jacket. Soothing his hands down your arms as he helps you step out of it..letting it fall where it may. Lacing your arms around his neck, releasing a breath that you didn't even know you were holding, but that’s what he does to you. Effortlessly, he puts your mind and body at ease...you feel his breath ghost over your hair, hot, wet, wanting, the grip he holds on your waist seems to be the only thing keeping you remotely grounded right now! Titling your chin upwards silently,asking and he gives it to you, because of course he does, this man can't deny you a damn thing even if he tried.

He gently brings your lips together, coaxing your mouth open in a way that has you moaning out instantly, letting your hands slide down his sides gripping his waist. Once his lips touch yours there's no other way to describe the feeling except relief, utter fuckin relief, slips through every cell in your body as you both sigh into it. Realistically you know, everything will be okay, you know it’s just one bad day, but for some reason right now...it just feels heavy every thing just feels fucking heavy and you really just need this..you need him!

Namjoon lets a hand trickle up your back until it meets the nape of your beck, taking an almost possessive grip to keep you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your suddenly feeling really desperate and to be honest you don’t quite know why, however your clawing at your husband's chest like your touch starved knowing damn well your far from it. Namjoon has always been a very..versatile lover..theirs time and place, he doesn't need to always be in “Daddy dom mode”, and he knows you like the back of his hand. Well aware you need some kind of anchor, some form of control right now after the day you just had so he lets you take it. He lets you lick into his mouth as you please and he swallows every moan that slips past your lips as he rocks his hips into yours making your knees weak and your chest feel like it’s caving in on itself.

However no matter how desperate you feel right now, the kiss doesn't add to your state of arousal….it calms your mind...slowing all the gears down. Your body on the other hand, is a completely, different story it has a mind of its own . not that you blame it, not when you have a half naked Namjoon Kim pressed flush against you, caging you against the door!

You swear your apartment feels at least 10 degrees hotter than it was when you walked in, suddenly Namjoon is impatiently tugging at your dress. Alternating between stretching it and balling it into a fist. “This... fuckin dress” You instantly knew he wanted skin on skin, so you gave it too him. Pulling back just enough so he can tug your dress over your head leaving you in front of him in nothing but your bra, panties and high heels. “What do you need, baby?” He pants into your mouth “Just tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you…” Without responding you tug him closer, caging him between your thighs and the 6 inches on your feet putting the two of you damn near at eye level for once!

You don’t actually respond initially, however the way your entire body deflated into the door just says it all.... And that’s what snaps him out of his lush clouded haze for a moment. I mean yeah he wants to rip you apart..but this isn't about him, it was never about him. So, he steps back, and you damn near whine at the lack of contact, but you silently watch, as he cocks his head to the side taking a moment to look at you. I mean really look...and …he coos lightly, reaching up to thumb at your jaw, swallowing hard, breath a little uneven.

“Your tired” He notes gingerly as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you try to smile but it doesn't quite work.

“I am, baby, mentally more than anything else…” It’s not like there’s been one catastrophic thing that’s taken place...it’s also not like you haven’t been through way worse. Your hormones are just fucking with you hard today, on top of the fact that there’s just a lot going on. Firing Jordan before you even know if the new hire is really gonna show up! This underlying tension between Tae and Kook that you can already tell Yoongi’s gonna get sucked into which will not end well! There’s nothing he hates more than petty drama...then there’s the Spectrum launch in Vegas next month….it’s just...yeah..yeah!

He nods knowing full well the chaos running through your mind, hating that you look like your handling the load for both of you though….

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, we can cuddle, I can even chill out here and give you your space...I just…” Gripping your face in the palm of his hands with a deep sigh, eyes clearly uneasy by the blatant strain in yours “I need your mind to slow down a little ...yeah need!” Answering the unasked question within your gaze “I don't- you know you can always talk to me right?!” Thick brows furrowing in the center of his face “ I don’t care how busy I am...always ..” Squeezing your face to emphasize the point “Did I-did I do something? Are we okay?” The way he staggers over his words, timid and faint as if he thinks he’s the problem is just….

Ohhh Joonie baby! Leaning in to press your forehead flush against his...trying to latch onto some of his energy, because it;s always 10 times calmer than yours....

“Were fuckin solid baby” Tilting your head upwards to kiss him, quick but firm! “There’s just a lot on my mind...including you...constantly…” You offer the strongest smile you can muster “But your far from the issue” Eyes locking with his “And no, I don’t wanna move, I don’t want space, just want you-“

“You got me…” He cuts you off instantly taking your hands in his, feeling how they are scrambling along his skin. Your all over the damn place, almost frantically as if your afraid he’s going to evaporate! So he opts to guide the pads of your fingers along his chest, stomach…

“I just want you to touch me,until I forget about everything and everybody else. Just touch me baby, make me feel good….that’s all I need” The last words hushed off your lips as if the two of you were in a room full!

He looks down at you, with the perfect combination of lust and love... “Yeah, yeah, I’ll always make you feel good baby…” Your almost breathless once his lips find the curve of your neck again, heading towards your shoulder blade. His touch is tender, soft, gentle…. “Always be your escape from the rest of the world whenever you need me to me…” Namjoon gives you a soft dimpled smile,that has your chest clinching painfully tight, and the way his body shielded yours it was almost as if he was hiding you from everyone else. You felt safe, in his arms like this ``Let me take care of you tonight.”

Namjoon doesn't phrase it as a question because he knows how badly you need this. However his delivery is soft enough not to make you feel...forced...

You nod somewhat breathlessly, to be honest you’ve never been good at being completely pliant, and no, everything isin’t always a dom/ sub dynamic but it's still rare you just lay there and “receive” without giving something in return! Your hands are still all over the place though, like you don’t know how to just be taken care of. As if you feel as though you have to be doing something! Which only makes him lean in and kiss you again, harder, deeper, trying to slow you down...trying to slow your mind down...

The slow languid slide of his tongue against yours, leaning in to press his forehead to your temple. While you both try to catch your breath, “Breathe, it’s just you and me….I got you…” .

“I know” You nod pressing your body as tight to Namjoon’s as you can, your minds a hazy fucking mess but you know you want him, all over you and then some. Your tired and you just wanna be touched, sometimes you forget how addicted you truly are for the feeling of Namjoon’s mouth against your own. Especially during moments like this, when it’s soft, determined, heavy, when you can tell he's pouring everything he has into it...putting every ounce of his beaning to that kiss as if that's all he has to give! “I know…” You echo again, more so for your own sanity than anyone else's.

You can’t help but start to rock against him and you instantly feel Namjoon’s cock flesh against your inner thigh. He’s getting harder by the second as his hands claw down your back and your skin feels like it’s scorching hot beneath the pads of his fingers. It’s like he knows what your thinking too, the minute you feel him pulsing against you “Don’t worry about me, this aint about me…” He mumbles between kisses, those skillful lips of his latch onto your jaw “There’s no way in hell I could ever see you standing in front of me and not be hard as fuck, but I’m not worried about me and my needs right now….so tell me what you want baby…”

“Namjoon” You whine, mind and body feeling completely overwhelmed “I can’t even think straight right now I just want…”

Namjoon just smirks as he kisses you again, tongue hot and heavy against your bottom lip as he licks at the seam “Then don’t think, just let me have you, let me do what I want, what you need.. ” Sliding his hands down your back until his palms land on your ass and he squeezes tight, rocking your hips forward with a moan, and this man never fails to knock the air straight out of your lungs! As you hum out a poor excuse for a response “Can I do that baby? Can I just take care of you and make you feel good?”

“Let me in...” The words hushed against your lips and damn near knocked the wind out of you in the process, because you knew he didn't just mean sexually...he meant in every sense of the word.

‘Fuck” Whines form your lips as you suck Namjoons between your teeth, the word “Yes” hushes off your tongue so faint he barley hears you! He pulls back slowly, leaning down to run his nose along your jaw, tailing the path with his tongue, then leaving an array of open mouth kisses right beneath. Namjoon can feel you continiously rock your hips down against his thigh and he can’t help but smile against your skin, tensing the muscle to add to the stimulation “Taste me...” You finally implore voice completely wrecked with need!

He moans against your neck “Mm yeah?You wanna feel my tongue all over your pussy baby? You wanna come on my face?” “This man had the sexiest bedroom eyes you’d ever seen, biting down on his bottom lip…hips slowly grinding down into you. “Yeah, your coming all over it face” Rehprahasing it as a statement as opposed to a question and you feel goosebumps breakout along every inch of your skin.

Namjoon leans back down crashing your lips together, he’s kissing you with a purpose now! It was a little messy, more tongue than skill on both ends at this point not that either of you cared. Hands roaming up your body, as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Before moving down to sprinkle kisses over your neck, down your jaw, where he starts sucking at your skin. Clearly leaving marks that you and your concealer would have fun covering tomorrow but you could care less! Every time he sucks your skin between those skilled lips of his you let out a muffled sigh, which filtered into a deep needy moan that and your husbands skin felt like it was burning from the inside out!

It’s a mixture of a kiss and a nuzzle as he works his way down your body, eyes flicking up, hazy and heavy watching every reaction. Moaning in unison as your whines fill the apartment the more he marks you, the more he takes his time exploring and cherishing your body as if it’s his sole purpose on this earth. As if his cock isint hard as fuck and throbbing in his pants right now.

Reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side, letting out a sasatifed hum once he notices how hard your nipples already are. Leaning forward to just blow along your aerola until your hissing and squrimng beneath him. Namjoon grazes your nipples with his lips, and your already arching into his mouth before he even laces his tongue around the bud. Chasing the pleasure which only has Namjoon moaning against you even louder, your loud needy, and making a mess in your panties and you can’t even get yourself to care. Not when your husband's lips and tongue keep repeatedly grazing over your aerola to the point where you actually feel like you could come. The way he’s taking his time to suction each bud between his lips has your thighs are shaking!

“Fuck, my babies so sensitive today…”

You barely even acknowledge the statement your already so far gone, especially once he takes one nipple between his mouth, toying it with his tongue while flicking the other with his index finger and thumb. It has you shaking, gasping, and shuddering, back arching wordlessly asking for more.. Everything just feels like too much and not enough all at the same damn time!

“Baby” Namjoon whispers almost awestruck upon sliding his hands between your thighs, feeling how wet you are, a deep, moan slips from the back of his throat. “Fuck”

Namjoon’s lips finally started to paint a trail south and god he knows how to rip you apart with his tongue you were already a damn mess! Finally making his way further down, kicking and sucking a path down your stomach. Eventually dropping down to his knees, the site of those big brown eyes gazing up at you, lids heavy, completely blown out, that alone already had you feeling light headed!

You can feel him smiling against your skin, dimples and all as he kisses at your lower stomach, loving the ways the muscles contract beneath his lips. “Your so fuckin gorgeous …” He coos’s against your skin, as he hooks his fingers around the side of your panties. “Relax” Breaths again your skin and you gasp spreading your legs on command.

Forehead resting against your stomach, while his hands kneaded at your thighs, planting open mouth kisses right above your center. Goosebumps appearing in the wake of his lips, you could feel him smirking against your skin from how antsy you are! Already well aware of how bad your body was screaming for him at this point. Sucking down on the area, leaving a bouquet of bruises behind for you to look down at and relive all over again .

“Namjoon please…”You plead, rocking your hips forward, until he tugs at the seam of your panties, effortlessly ripping the thin lace apart. The slight pain from the coarse fabric dragging against your skin, accompanied by your husband's blatant desier to give you what you want has you moaning even harder.

“Holy shit” The moment he slid your panties hit the ground and your arousal hit his nose, the scent rippes a pained moan from his throat. If you didn't know any better you'd swear his mouth was watering once he tricked his fingers between your lips that were literally running down his hand. Pulling back much to your dismay only to lock his gaze with yours as he slowly sucks them between his lips one by one! The sight of him ,devouring your juices off of his fingers felt like enough to make you cum right there. Moaning against his hand as if you were the best thing he tasted all damn day. “God, taste so good baby”

You can feel his breath right against your pussy and it’s already making a muffled whine slip past your lips before he really even dose anything. Sliding his index finger in slowly ,going knuckle deep all in one notion, curling it upward until the thick diamond encrusted band on his finger was flicking against your clit! There's already intense pressure building in the pit of your stomach as you try to steady yourself against the door. The slick sound of him teasing up your center had your ears burning. “Babyyyy “ his face almost reflecting pain as he watched how wet you were for him and only him . The way your juices were just dripping down your inner thighs, looking, back at you as if he just wanted to slide in right then and there. But as he said, this wasn;t about him….this was all about his baby, and she asked for him to taste her...so that’s all he cared about!

“Jooon ...please” Eyes heavy as you glanced down at him whining …shifting your hips against his hands .

“You don’t gotta beg…” Leaning down to blow against your clit “At least not today” God, he looked like the perfect combination of an angel and the damn devil as he smirked up at you.

“Fuck, well just put your tongue on my clit and make me cum plea-a-oh fuck” Finally letting his tongue go where you’ve been aching for him, sliding up and down your slit slowly, and your body felt like it was on fire! The noise you let out once you feel Namjoons tongue hot and wet against you should be utterly embarrassing. But you could give less than a damn, he;s licking around the head of your clit in a way that has your toes curling against the sole of your shoes. Your body was hypersensitive today, every time his tongue touched you it felt like it was enough for you to come! Like he’s been edging you for hours and he just. Fucking. Started!

Namjoon pushing his tongue past your entrance, joining his fingers and your eyes fall shit , grip tightening on the doorknob, as bolts of pleasure rip through your veins. Your already sweating. The feeling of his tongue burning deep inside you rocking in tune with his fingers, the wet obscene sounds that fill your apart, you fuckin live for it! Everything just felt hot,your clit was already rock hard and your thighs were wavering like a leaf in the wind! The 6 inches on the bottom of your shoes are no longer working in your favor, not trusting your legs to support yourself, and clearly neither did he so he shifted our body seamlessly, wrapping your legs around his shoulders. Propping you up, so he could bury his face right where you wanted him and he was deep. He had you at the perfect angle to actually engulf his tongue within your entrance, just teasing your walls enough to have them trying to clench around the muscle!

You drop your head against the door, if you weren’t so far gone it would probably hurt, “Oh, my god, baby push your fingers in deeper” You choke on a moan and it feels like your entire body is trying to coil in on itself as your husband dose exactly as you ask. Wrapping his lips back around your clit, sucking in, moaning against your skin sending what felt like vibrations through your entire body. Pushing his fingers in as deep as possible, curling them alongside his tongue just enough to hit the soft right spot that he can find with his eyes closed at this point. The sensation rips through every cell in your body and your suddenly teetering over the edge almost embarrassingly fast.

“Your not gonna last ” He kept his face close as he spoke every word sent your body shaking harder than the next. It wasn’t even meant to be arrogant,or condensing this time, to be honest he was more so speaking to himself than anyone..almost in awe!

“No— fuck, I’m not but please don’t stop, keep going I need it- need you-fuck” The words fell from your lips in a combination of a plea and a whine as you nuzzled your fingers in those dark chocolate locks of his!.He already knew what you needed..to be pushed past you limits...overwork your muscles until they just kinda..shut down...until your mind shut down!

“I’m right here,I got you” Namjoon promised, letting your gaze meet and you struggled to focus, especially with him looking at you like that. Your lips parted, gasping slightly

“That’s it baby. Enjoy it. God, making such a fuckin mess too…” You can feel yourself almost pushing your heat right into his face at this point your so damn needy! Namjoon moans, blunt nails digging into your ass to keep you in place.

“My baby’s feelin good huh?” Namjoon’s voice is somewhat strained, setting deeper and husker than usual and goddamn

A strangled groan laves your throat that I guess can be considered a coked out moan, there wasn't much talking from that point on. You told Namjoon you wanted to be too overwhelmed to think and that’s exactly what you were! Your apartment filled with nothing but heavy moans, accompanied by the sound of his name leaving your throat at numerous octaves...

He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist to make sure you don’t fall, and though you asked for three, I don't think you were really ready, especially once he tries to spread them out slightly. And you actually scream, literally this is why you'll probably not be offered a lease renewal in a couple months. Your loud….

“Yeah, yeah...there you go....” Namjoon can tell that your right there, so he moves back to suck your clit back into his mouth your thighs instinctively go right around his neck. Almost as if your trying to suffocate him, and obviously you aren’t it;s just a lot...the pressures a lot..your body dosen’t quite know what to do.

Namjoon growls low, and theirs no other way to describe the sound except primal, possessive, and it’s so fucking sexy. “Stop...” Eyes glaring up in your direction, tone calm yet..stern...he may not be in daddy mode but ugh...he always is daddy . You whine but do as he says, far to gone to even be a smart ass right now, and you feel him hum around you! The vibrations hush against your skin. Scissoring his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, he told you he wasn't in the mood to make you beg and he meant it. The sound of his palm smacking against your lips, only grew louder the wetter you got, your own arousal making his hand almost stick to your skin. There was a slight sting, from the bulk of his rings, including his wedding band smacking against your skin yet that only had you moaning even louder. The rough contrast between his smooth stealthy fingers and the thick metal fucking you open!

It was like he could feel that your body was getting use to the rhythm, you were stilll shaking, however you wouldn’t jerk and twitch as hard anymore...so clearly he decided....fuck that! Sliding out and using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, just enough to let him attack the tip of your clit as he needed. Sucking hard, as if he was trying to swallow you whole! Pursing his lips to spit right on the bud, not that you needed it just because he loved you messy! Flicking and rolling his tongue against the most sensitive area of your body , and you felt your walls start to contract, around, fuck imagination at this point because his fingers weren’t in you but it didn't matter!

“Baby….fuck- “ Head lolling back to hit the door even harder this time. Fuck you’re gonna have a migraine, your moans are growing louder, gaze heavy, lightheaded as your eyes slowly met the back of your head.

Once he had you in his mouth on you like this,in a way that had you shaking, whining, desperate... he slid his fingers back inside you, curling them in and out. Thumb, teasing at your rim, circling the entrance just enough to have you arching into it, silently begging for more though you really couldn’t handle it right now. Probing that rigid patch tucked between your pulsing heat, your walls damn near suffocating his fingers. Every time he tried to pull out, you sucked him right back in, alternating between rolling his tongue against your clit, and sucking down on it. Those lips of his where relentless, treating your clit as if it was a straw and was the thing thats what sent your body over the edge!.You felt your body start to shake, and twitch in his grasp and yet he still didn't release your clit from his mouth even as you came, hard. You knew you had to be running down his faced at this point, and he fucking loved it.

You suddenly felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to lookd down at him, as he silently asked for permission to keep going....not even remotely trusting your voice! So, you just tightened the grip you held on his hair, pushing his head back down and Namjoon moaned so loud you almost thought he came.

“Nam-Joonnnnn” Choked from your lungs, eyes squeezing back shut...as his tongue started caressing your lips. Slowly rolling his neck head first into your pussy as if he was giving you a deep passionate kiss..fuck I mean, I guess he was.Is it possible to make love to someones clit with your tongue?! Because if soo...that’s exactly what it felt like Namjoon was doing!

He gradually slowed down his pace, not pulling away completely just yet, laying his tongue flat against your lips.Taking slow, long drags, until his tongue worked his way upwards curling against your pelvic bone. Namjoon licked you from head to toe not that it cleared up anything though, it actually only made more of a mess! As you twitched and jerked at ever flick of the tongue!Finally letting his lips move over to your inner thighs, leaving light butterfly kisses while he waited for your body to stop shaking. Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, and you were hot to the touch. You let him shift you around, not even attempting to help slowly adjusting your body so you could stand, but he knew you really couldn’t. So he kept a arm tight around your waist so you didn’t collapse, since your thighs felt like a damn slinky. Using the back of his palm to wipe the reminder of your essence off his face. Letting his tongue run along his teeth, he smiled down at you, pleased with himself as you couldn’t even keep your eyes open.

Running his thumb against your cheek until finally looked at him... nosing up your face...yet now his eyes read something softer. Less cocky more loving and concerned...He didn't even speak his eyes silently asking....“You good?” His touch was so soft you felt chills coursing down your spine again...only this time for a completely different reason....

You just nodded, a lazy smile tugging on your lips, as you started feeling like you could actually breath again. Taking a firm grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to meet yours, kissing you deep, love and adoration pouring off your tongue, as you moaned into his mouth. Tasting yourself on every inch of on his mouth. Namjoon reached down, cupping your ass, with both hands wrapping your legs around his waist.

Walking you wordlessly down the long hallway to your master suite, kicking the door shut behind him, the room was dark, the only light came peeping through the curtains. Tossing you back onto the bed, an airy laugh leaving your chest as you bounced along the mattress. Resting on your elbows in a slight arch as your eyes drunk him as he crawled onto the bed, yanking you by your ankles to pull you down to him. Finally sliding your feet out of your Louboutins after fuck, 10 plus hours! Kissing both of your ankles in the process, lightly massaging the balls of your feet before laying them flat on the bed.

“Baby” Fanned past your lips with a smirk as he slid his palm between your thighs, moaning at the way the damn near stuck together. Even now, after you’ve came he hasn’t stopped doing what you've asked...you wanted to be touched welll....

Knees spread on either side of your body, supporting his weight so he’s not sitting directly on top of you. Namjoon’s touching you everywhere, though now your body’s hot and sticky but you don't mind. The pads of his fingers only had fuel to the flame, every inch he touches feels like its scorching against your Egyptian cotton. There's no alternative laced within this either expect taking care of you like he originally offered. His touch is a little stronger though, almost massaging your aching muscles in the process. Leaning down to trail open mouth kisses everywhere he can reach, sucking at your heat induced skin, leaving marks all over the damn place. The other boys will bitch but he could give less than a fuck right now. Not when your moaning and looking up at him so soft, pliant, needy...he’d give you any fucking thing you asked for right now!

You completely shudder beneath him, eyes falling shut, blissed and overwhlemed, and high off of everything that is Namjoon!

“Namjoon….”

Namjoon moans at that, at how needy you sound, leaning down to nose up your jaw “Say it again baby…’ Tracing a mindless path along your skin...and you give him what he wants, nuzzling into the crook of his neck...nipping and sucking his honey coated skin between your teeth. His cock grazes your thigh and no, you gotta do something about this, your mans in pain, he has to be!

Sliding your hand inside his sweats and the minute he goes to dispute you nip at his skin, “Let me..please let me…” The words porpously purr off your tongue in nothing but a moan and as I said..this man can't deny you a damn thing!

He nods against your hair, and you bump him with your nose until he brings his lips over to yours.You kiss him hard sucking his lower lip into your mouth, as you start to stroke him, you can feel him throbbing in your palm, precum leaking all over the damn place Namjoon’s dick actually feels warm in your hand he’s so worked up. Well aware it won’t take much at all he’s essentially been edging himself since you walked in the door!

Your husband breaths heavy and ragged into the kiss he’s already so close…”You took such good care of me Joon, always…” He moans, slightly whiny as he starts to rock his lips into your hand as you stroke him harder. Grip tighter “I love you baby” Thumbing over his slit and he comes, spilling all over your hand and into his sweats a string of moans falls from his lips as, eyes squeezing shut, arms shaking barley able to hold himself up. You don't’ stop though, not until he’s practically swatting your hands away because he can’t take anymore. Sliding your palm free, letting him take in the site, as he tries to steady his breathing, a glint of amusement in yours eyes as you bring it up to your mouth. Namjoon Moans against the side of your face as you lap your tongue over your palm, sucking each finger into your mouth into there redeemed ..clean...

“Fuckkkk” Husks off his tongue..and no matter how exhausted you are you let me fall into you..wrapping your arms and legs around his waist as he nuzzles against the crook of your neck.

The two of you just lay there in comfortable silence for lord knows how long until...

“I know today was hard, and I know it will probably get harder...but, we got this…” Hushes against the side of your face “We came so fuckin far, and were going figure this out...it’s just,,this is all a adjustment for everybody...but we got this…”

You don’t really wanna talk about work any further right now...you just wanna be in this moment with him...so instead you just....

“I love you.”

“And you know I love you”

He reaches up and grabs your jaw, grip firm, something heavy on his chest regardless...laying his forehead against yours.

“Whenever your feelin like this, just remember that it’s okay...and it aint just you....stop trying to bare all this shit by yourself. I’m fucking here, it;s my job to take some of this off your plate!” Nuzzling against your cheek “Weather that be mentally...emotionally...” Namjoon pauses, letting his eyes trail over all the marks along your body as he bites his lip, dragging it between his teeth “Sexually” Dropping his voice a little nipping at your jaw with a small smirk. Grinding his hips against you until your moaning again while clawing your nails down his back. Leaning in to press his lips against yours, only pulling back enough to speak, tone barley above a whisper....

“I’m here, to help you feel better,to take some of this off your mind, to be whatever the fuck you need, whenever, and however you need it...you just gotta let me. Let me take care of you more baby...let me...fuck” Shaking his head, chuckling almost nervously “Let us, take care of you sometimes...”

You don’t respond any further, only gripping him even tighter, theirs so much to unpack there that you really don’t have the mental capacity for right now. The concept of you taking care of everyone else but often neglecting yourself has been a thing since college...it’s nothing new...just sometimes your better at letting the boys in than others...

However, the main issue above it all, the reason your even in this “position” to begin with... work.The stress and pressure the two of you feel as CEO’s of your own company at times is unmatched! People talk about the struggle to gain success but often neglect what happens once you get there. Especially as a business owner the pressure you two feel to keep growing, knowing you have people that rely on you to live, rely on you to put food on the table...rely on you to guide their futures in a sense. Like Jungkook, the kids 20, this is the first job hes putting on his resume and he’s trusting you guys to give him the proper tools to grow in his field.

He’s just soo....fuck so bright eyed and trusting...and I guess something in you wants to protect him from how shitty the world is...protect him in a way nobody protected the 7 of you….

Fuck, barley a month ago you were having a panic attack about hirng someone new for that kinda position and , now you wanna put this kid in a safety plastic bubble and protect him from any and everything...your baby boy included….

A fucking mess is what you feel like right now, a absolute fucking mess.

Your not quite sure how much time passes, as you lay there with Namjoon wrapped in your arms, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck...but it feels good...it feels right...welll almost..it would be perfect if you had five other bodies laying along the bed as well...

“I’m going to run you a bath and order dinner…” Placing a couple kisses along your jaw as he starts to untangle himself tentatively but you don;t make a fuss, your both sticky as all hell anyway….. You just nod slowly, eyes sitting even heavier than when you first got home, gently letting your nails tease up his chest.

“Want me to join you?” You’re not even sure why he asks, he knows the answer but you indulge him…

“Of course...who else is going to wash my back for me?” You muse playfully and he just rolls his eyes, and exasperated groan leaning his chest as he rolls off the bed to head towards the adjacent master bath. Stopping halfway…

“Oh, so Yoongi called me today….” You only let out a low, slightly uninterested hum you know where this is going…”What…” He already sounds exhausted before he even starts, running a shaky hand through his hair “What are we gonna do about Tae?”

You hate when he looks at you like this, like he’s hoping you have the answers..because fuck you really don’t!

“He wouldn't really talk to me that morning, so I don’t even know what’s really going on. And of course I don’t wanna solely blame him, it’s just…” Waving his hand in the air absently alluding to what he didn't wanna say.

“He already had a slight attitude about it before, but tried to act like he didn't and now we're here..with him being petty at work,..yeah..yeah...I don’t know baby...I don’t know..”

Namjoon’s phone dings..somewhat grateful for the interruption... theirs a stated smile on his face which prompts you to hum in curiosity.

”It’s ugh...Yoongi, actually.....just checkin to see if your okay...” Of fuckin course it is..

You can’t help but giggle, feeling loved and exhausted but more importantly loved... nothing but fondness in your eyes at just the mention of his name...

“Tell him yes, and you should also tell him to come over” Namjoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, somewhat wide and disoriented and you just shrug, honestly out of options at this point. You’d rather address it now before it becomes a hot ass mess!

“Yeah, why not? Tell him to bring wine and sushi...maybe we can all just.. chill...smoke..cuddle...and come to some type of solution where our baby boy is concerned...because we can’t operate with this type of tension...that’s not how we operate”

~~~

Heyyy, soooo that’s all she wrote..for now! If you enjoyed show this some love, come let em know and I will keep this AU rolling!

1ST- QUESTION?

Sooo , would you guys want me to do a one-shot for when Yoongi comes over and the 3 of them discuss Tae? As I mentioned in Tae's first chapter "Pretty Please" There's always been a different more submissive/needy dynamic between Tae and the OC/Yoongi...so I could let them talk about there history a little...and then..maybe Yoongi could fuck her while shes saying between Joon's legs on the couch..IDK..idk where that came from...but I also aint mad at it!

FINAL NOTE-

Just to clarify....if you follow this series..obviously the Tae X Kookie issue was first brought up in Tae’s chapter “Pretty Please”. However the “drama” is what’s been happening since Kook got hired...in the next full length one shot “Got me Loosin all my cool” That’s Jungkook’s “intro” and it starts a month after he’s been working at Onyx....so some of these “issues” will be addressed then.

...As well as THIS “day” technically takes place within that one shot as well...I just did not tap into what happenes when she got home. However the OC will fire the referenced receptionist (The same one from “Pretty Please) in the up and coming one shot and Joon takes care of her once she gets home!

7 DEEP MASTERLIST

(WHICH INCLUDES 2 REFERENCED FICS ABOVE )

#Namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smile #bts au #bts X reader #kpop #kpop smut #namjoon au #bts smut

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writingbakery · 5 years ago

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“home is wherever i’m with you”

i was missing my panther baby, so i wrote out a quick little drabble set in the “what’s new, pussycat?” universe ! in this, you & hitoshi are married, & live farther out in the forest now rather than in the shop 💗 i hope you enjoy my loves ! expect more from this series soon 💗 [taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @lady-bakuhoe @keigos-dove @antigenius @heroheads @yuueimagines @jojosmilktea @writing-in-monotone ]

[pairing; gn! witch reader x panther familiar! hitoshi shinso]

[warnings; fluff, romance, domesticity, even more fluff]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you like to take the long way home on sunday’s.

the market opens early on spring sundays, tables and chairs rising with the sun. under the morning dew, dozens of booths come to life in the crisp air, familiar faces amongst the handmade creations.

you do well on sundays, sell wellness draughts & charmed necklaces & always have a smile to offer to every neighbor. the people of your little town are overwhelmingly friendly now, tossing in a kind word or a hint of friendly gossip as they make their purchases, a pinch or two at your rosy cheeks between every warm smile. you can thank your familiar for that; shinso’s presence over the last few months had endeared your neighbors to you, erased any cruel misconceptions they’d held on to.

when you’re feeling poetic, you like to say that you don’t choose the long way home; instead, the well worn path calls you, whispers amongst the growing leaves & draws you in closer. shinso always laughs at that, eyes crinkled up fond at your flowery ideas - “you must have a little nature fairy in you then, mixed in with the witchiness,” — but he always allows you that small comfort of a longer walk home despite his protectiveness, quiet & peaceful.

you suppose that shinso’s quiet acceptance of all your little quirks and oddities is why you love him so, a reason out of many. you never have to shy away from yourself with hitoshi, can open yourself up all the way to the heart and let him reside right next to it.

the forest is calm so late in the afternoon, warm and inviting despite the lingering chill and you’re glad you chose it this particular sunday. winter’s icy beauty is slipping from the soil by the day, inching off the branches of the trees and kissing their pretty, rich green leaves. sprouts and weeds bloom under your feet, crafting sweet spring melodies with the chirping birds overhead and the singing brooks along the path.

the sunlight filters through the lively forest, little halos of light decorating certain spots on your walk. you like to think each halo illuminates something special, something previously unknown yet desperate to be. you always pause at each one, sift through the vegetation with the tip of your boot to see what lies beneath; you’ve found countless little odds and ends that way, pretty stones and lost trinkets. today, it’s a smooth, grey-blue pebble, a perfect circle in the middle of your palm. you decide to bring it home to hitoshi, knowing the panther will tuck it away reverently, use it whenever he needs to unwind. your lover had a particular fondness for things that were perfectly round, perfectly smooth, turning them over and over in his hands as he thought - you found it endlessly endearing.

the thought of your lover waiting at home hurried your steps, a smile on your lips as you quickly made your way along the path; it always happens this way, only able to walk half of it leisurely. you always got too excited for what lay at the end of it, always wanted to arrive faster than you’d departed.

where the brook ended, so did the path, widening out to a clearing; there stood your home, a brick and mortar reflection of your heart. the windows were fogged around the edges and draped with fresh vines, the door bearing a beautiful pink and green bouquet. hitoshi had complained the entire time you’d both decorated - “we live in the middle of the forest, darling, who in the fuck is going to see all this?” - but even he had to admit it was lovely. it brought a certain sense of belonging to your little home, made it a little more yours.

you pushed open the door carefully, locking up before discarding your coat and scarf - hitoshi always bundled you up excessively before you left the house, scowling over how lax you were with keeping warm. he always ended his little rants with a kiss to your nose, however, so you more than tolerated them. the house was quiet, save for the indignant meows of your pets and an all too recognizable snore. you stepped through the foyer to the living room to take in your favorite sight; hitoshi, fast asleep amongst the pillows of the couch, both cats draped over his sleeping form. from the book over his chest and the full pot in the kitchen, it was clear he’d been enjoying some relaxing as he started dinner, waiting for you to come home. it made you smile, the thought of your husband shuffling about your kitchen with his glasses sliding halfway down his nose, scolding the cats for begging but slipping them treats anyways.

[they appealed to his feline heart, though he’d never admit it, and you had to admit it was precious. once a panther, always a panther.]

you stepped into the kitchen to check the stew, stirring it carefully and lowering the flame. it had another hour or so to cook, and you didn’t mind at all, tossing in a few spices and herbs. it was routine in your house, at this point; one of you starting a task, the other finishing it. you were particularly fond of it, thought of it as both of you adding a bit of yourselves to everything you did. hitoshi always folded your robes, and you hung up his sweaters; hitoshi was good at chopping and dicing for stew, and you added the flavor.

you carefully set out two bowls of fish and rice for your cats, scratching behind both sets of ears with a fond coo. “took care of him for me while i was gone, did you? thank you,” you praised quietly, before returning to your husband in the living room. you set aside his glasses and book, making sure to mark his page, before curling up into his chest, draping a blanket over the both of you. hitoshi started sleepily, one arm reaching up almost on instinct to pull you closer.

“didn’t know you were home,” he slurred with a yawn, rubbing at his eyes and making to sit up. you carefully pushed him back down, chuckling softly underneath your breath as you gave hitoshi a soft kiss hello. “stay down, sleeping beauty. i’m home.”

as he happily obliged, arms wrapped tight around your waist as he began rambling on about his day, you couldn’t help but smile a little wider, pressing your cheek to his chest as you listened.

yes indeed, you thought to yourself, warmth seeping into your bones. you were home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #evywrites #bnha fluff #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero fluff #boku no hero x reader #bnha imagines #shinsou fluff #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinsou x y/n #w&tp series

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beclynn-herondale · 4 years ago

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In Another Universe: Chapter 8 part 2 - The Hotel Dumort

(tsc, tmi, and the characters belong to Cassandra Clare, this is again super similar to the original and some of the quotes are similar, it's also kinda slow)

Raphaela led them through corridors, some opened onto empty storage rooms, a ghostly kitchen, abandoned rooms, a deserted laundry room. Most the staircases that led up to the upstairs were gone, nothing much left of them. This baffled Clar, what did these vampires have against stairs?

They found a set of stairs that was still intact, hidden behind laundry. The maids that once worked here must have used them to carry laundry up and down the stairs before the days of elevators. There was thick layers of dust that made Clar cough.

"Shh," hissed Raphaela. "They'll hear you. We are very close to where they sleep." "How do you know that?" he whispered. "I can just feel it," she said. "Don't you?" He shook his head. He didn't feel anything, except being strangely cold.

The top of the stairs had a door, above it was painted the word "Lobby" but it was hardly recognizable now. Jayce went up to the door and pushed it open, it sparyed rust. Clar braced himself— But the room that was beyond was empty. They were in a foyer now, there had clearly once been a grand staircase that was now broken and torn apart, all that remained now was the upper steps.

His voice was dry. "What do the vampires have against stairs exactly?" "They don't have anything against them," said Jayce. "They just have no use for them." "It's their way of saying this is their place," said Raphaela.

Jayce glanced at her, she seemed a little suspicious of Raphaela. "Have you ever seen a vampire for real, Raphaela?" she asked. She looked at her. "I know what they look like, pale, thin, but strong. They move like cats and are Swift like serpents. They are beautiful and terrible, like this hotel here."

"You think it's beautiful?" asked Clar, a little surprised. "You can see it once was, years ago. Like an old woman who had been beautiful at a time, but had time take her beauty away. Imagine this staircase the it was once, the gas lamps lighting the way, like fireflies on a dark summer night, the balconies filled with many people. Not the way it is now, so—" "Dead?" said Jayce dryly. Raphaela looked like she was almost slightly startled, like Jayce had broken her out of a dream.

Clar turned to Jayce. "Where are they? The vampires?" "Probably up upstairs. They like to be high when they sleep, kinda like bats. And the sun is almost up." Clar and Raphaela both looked up at the same time, there wasn't anything above the burned frescoed ceiling. There was an archway on their left that led to more darkness. Raphaela glanced back down, Clar saw a scar at her throat, it was very white against her brown skin. He wondered how she had gotten that scar.

"I think we should go back to the stairs," whispered Clar. "It feels too open here." Jayce gave a nod. "Once we get there, you'll have to call for Simone and hope she'll hear you. You realize that right?" He wondered if Jayce could see the fear he felt. "I—" He was cut off by a terrible scream, he whirled around. Raphaela wasn't there anymore, there weren't even marks in the dust where she may have gone. He reached for Jayce out of reflex, but she was already moving towards the archway at the far wall, she blended in with the shadows and he couldn't see her but followed the light of the witchlight she carried.

At the end of the archway was a ball-room. It was probably once elegantly beautiful, now like most of the hotel was broken and destroyed. There was a balcony that must have been beautiful as well once but now was covered in spiderwebs.

There was Raphaela standing in the middle of room. He ran to her, Jayce was right behind him moving cautiously. "Are you ok?" he asked out of breath. She nodded. "I thought I saw something, but it was nothing."

"We decided it would be best to head back to the stairs," said Jayce. "There doesn't appear to be anything on this floor." Raphaela nodded again. "That is probably best." She started towards the door, not looking behind her to see if they were following. She had only gotten a few steps and then Jayce said. "Hey, Raphaela?"

She turned, eyes widening, and Jayce threw her knife. Her reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to miss the knife. Jayce's blade struck it's target, it knocked her to the ground. Her blood looked black in the dim light.

"Jayce," hissed Clar, he couldn't believe she had just done tnat. He felt shock run through him. He knew she had said she disliked mundanes, but not even Jayce would— He turned to go to Raphaela, but Jayce shoved him away. And then she flung herself into the other girl and grabbed for her knife that was sticking out of Raphaela's chest. But she was faster. She seized the knife, but screamed when her hand touched the hilt that had a cross shape. It fell to the ground. Jayce had one hand fistex tightly in the material of Raphaela's shirt, and her seraph blade in the other hand, glowing brightly, so brightly it was almost hard to look.

Raphaela was laughing now. "You missed your target," she said, she grinned for the first time, and it showed her white incisors. "You didn't hit my heart." Jayce's grip tightened. "You moved at the last second," she said. "It was quite inconsiderate of you."

Raphaela frowned, and spat blood on the floor. Clar felt himself step back and realize in horror what was happening. "When exactly did you figure it out?" she demanded. "I figured it out back in the alley," said Jayce. "But I figured you'd get us inside, and turn on us. Because once we trespassed, we would be out of the protection of the convenat, and he fair game. But when you didn't i thought maybe I had gotten it wrong. But then saw the scar at your throat." she leaned back slightly but still her blade at Raphaela's throat. "The chain when I first saw it I thought it looked like one you'd hang a cross from. And you did once, didn't you, when you visited your family?"

Raphaela laughed. "Was that it? Just my scar?' "No. When you left the foyer, you didn't leave any footprints in the dust. That was when I knew." "It was not your brother your brother who went in and never came out," said Clar. "I was you, wasn't it?" "Both if you are very clever," she said. "But not clever enough. Look above you" She lifted her hand to point but Jayce knocked it away, her glance still on the other girl. "Clar, what do you see up there?" she asked.

He lift his head, dreading what he would see when he looked up there. He thought back to what Raphaela had said earlier about how the balconies once looked. They were now surrounded with vampires, their fangs out and ready to attack.

Jayce didn't move or take her gaze off of Raphaela. "You called for them. Isn't that right?" Raphaela grinned again, blood still coming out of her wound. "And what does it matter if I did? There's too many of us for you to stop us, even for you, Wayland."

He saw how much control it was taking Jayce to not kill Raphaela, to not wipe the taunting grin off her face with death. She was breathing heavily. "Jayce," he said with as much warmth as he could muster in the moment. "Don't kill her." "And why not?" "I am thinking maybe, we can use her as a hostage." With her eyes wide she said. "A hostage?" "I know what I am doing, get her on her feet, and trust me." Jayce gave him a glance, shrugged and said. "Ok." More vampires were gathering, he felt a flash of fear. they were kinda screwed but not entirely.

"This is not funny at all," hissed Raphaela. "That is why no one is laughing their asses off," said Jayce, she hauled Raphaela up, and jammed her knife between the girls shoulders. "I can pierce your heart from behind just as from behind," she said. "I wouldn't make any sudden movement."

Clar turned his head to see the shapes coming towards them from the dark. "Stop," he said. "Or she'll stab the blade through Raphaela's heart." There were what sounded like murmurs of laughter. "Stop," he said again. Behind him Jayce did something to make Raphaela cry out with pain. A vampire swung his arm back to stop his companions. Clar recognized him from Magna's party, a blond boy he had seen there. "He means it," he said. "They're Shadowhunters."

Another vampire came out of the crowd to stand by the blond boy, a handsome chinese boy who had purple streaks through his hair. "These Shadowhunters are trespassing on out territory," he said. "The law doesn't protect them anymore more. I think we should kill them, after all they've killed many of us." "Which one of you is the mast of this clan?" asked Jayce flatly. "Have them step forward." The boy bared his fangs. "Don't use the clave language with on us, little Shadowhunter. You broke your own precious law coming in here. Your law can't protect you now.". "That's enough, Lillian," the blond boy said. "Our master is not currently here, he is traveling far away." "Someone must be standing in for him," observed Jayce.

No one answered. Raphaela is the one who leads us," said the blond vampire. "Jacob—" hissed Lilian in disapproval. "I say we make a trade," cut in Clar quickly. "You must have noticed that you brought too many people home with you from the party. One of them is my friend, her name is Simone." The vampire called Jacob raised his eyebrows. "You have a friend who is a vampire?". "No, she's not a vampire. And not a Shadowhunter, either," he added. Lillian's eyes narrowed. "She's an ordinary human girl.". "We didn't take any human girls from the party tonight. That would be against the law." "She got transformed into a rat. a small brown rat," he said and made a gesture with his hands. "One of you might have thought she was pet, or maybe . . ." his voice trailed off. They all looked at him as if he were insane. It was moments like these he missed Joan, she could give them one look and people would answer or leave him alone. He felt loss of hope go through him.

"Let me get this straight—" said Lillian but was cut off by Jacob. "Or gay," he said. Lillian glared at him, a glare of this is serious. He continued. "You want to trade Raphaela for a rat?" he asked. They all stared at him expressionless. In other circumstances he would have thought they had been baffled. He could feel that Jayce was standing behind him, hearing her rasp breathing. He wondered if she was racking her brain, trying to figure out why exactly she let him drag them here. He thought she was probably starting to hate him.

"You mean this rat?" Clar blinked. Another vampire, a thin black boy had pushed his way through the crowd. He had something in his hands, some brown that squirmed. "Simone?" Clar whispered. The rat squeaked and tried to get free from the boy's grip. He looked down at the rodent with distaste. "I say let them take her, bruh. She's bitten me like five times." Clar reached for her, wanting so badly to get her away from the vampires. But Lillian stepped in front of the boy before Clar could reach Simone. "Wait," Lillian said. "How can we be sure you won't take this rat and then kill Raphaela?" "We'll give you our word," said Clar instantly, he had expected them to laugh.

But nobody did. Raphaela swore something in spanish. Lillian looked over at Jayce with a curious look on his face. "Clar," she said. "Are you really sure this is such a—". "No promise, no deal," said Lillian immediately, catching the uncertainty in Jayce's tone. "Elliott, don't let the rat go." The boy tightened his grip on Simone, she sank her teeth into Elliott's hand. "Oh, man," he said sadly. "That hurts." Clar took that moment to turn to whisper to Jayce. "Just swear already! What could it possibly hurt? "Swearing for us is nothing like swearing for mundanes," she snapped angerily. "I will be bound to that oath." "Oh, yeh? And what would happen if you broke that oath?" "I wouldn't , that's the point—"

"Lillian is right," said the boy Jacob. "An oath is needed. Swear that no harm will come to Raphaela. Even after we give you the rat." "I won't hurt her," said Clar instantly. "No matter what happens." Lilian gave him a tolerant smile. "It is not you we are worried about." he shot a pointed look to Jayce. Who still had a tight grip on Raphaela, so tight her knuckles were white. There was sweat at her temple. She said. "Fine. I swear it." "Speak the oath," said Lillian with a swift tone. "Swear it on your Angel. Say the full thing." Jayce shook her head. "You first." Her words fell with silence, a ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. Jacob looked worried. Lillian said angrily "No way, Shadowhunter.". "We have your leader," Jayce had the knife to Raphaela's throat and dug it deep. "And you have what? A rat."

Simone still pinned in Elliott's hands, squeaking angrily. Clar longed to grab her but held himself back. "Jayce, please—" "Master?" said Lillian as he looked to Raphaela. With her head down, blood on her collar of her shirt. "A very precious rat," she said. "for you to make such an effort to come all this way. I do believe you will be the one to swear first, Nephilim."

Jayce tightened her grip more, Clar saw her arm muscles swell, her fingers white from her hard grip, the anger set in her jaw. "The rat is mundane," she said sharply. "If you kill her, you'll break the law—" "She is trespassing on out territory. Trespassers are not protected by the law, you are aware of—" "She didn't trespass at all," said Clar. "You brought her here." "Technicalities," said Raphaela, grinning him, even with a knife at her throat. "Besides. You think we don't hear things, we've heard the rumors of Valentine's return? The news has run through Downworld. And once he is back there will be no accords to uphold.

Jayce's head jerked up. "Where did you hear this?" "Everyone in Downworld knows. He paid a warlock to summon a pack of ravener demons a week ago. He has his forsaken looking for the Mortal Cup. And when he finds it there will no more fake peace between us and, there will be war. And no law will stop me from ripping your heart out, Nephilim—"

The words were enough for Clar. He dove to towards Simone, pushing Lillian aside, and grabbed her from Elliott. Simone ran up his arm, holding on tightly. "It's okay, now," he whispered. He knew It really wasn't. He went to run, but felt someone grab him by the shirt with, holding him. He tried to get free but the grip that held him was like iron. Simone clung to him as Clar fought to get free. "Let me go!" He yelled. He kicked out at the vampire boy. His booted foot connected hard, and he heard Lillian shout in pain. He swung his hand forward hitting Clar in the face, knocking him back.

He staggered back almost falling. He heard Jayce yell his name, he turned to her voice and saw she had let Raphaela go and was running to him. Clar tried to go to her, but Jacob gripped him hard by the shoulders, digging in deep painfully. He cried out a little. It was lost with the other shriecks in the room as Jayce, grabbing one of the vials from her jacket, flung the contents at her. He realized it was holy water. Jacob screamed in pain and released Clar. And Lillian called out his name and ran to him.

In the chaos of it all Clar felt someone seize his wrist, he tried to yank himself free of the grip. "Stop—you dummy—it's me." Jayce panted in his ear. "Oh!" he relaxed for a moment, but tensed again when he saw a familiar shape loom up behind Jayce. He cried out and Jayce quick with cat like movements duck and spun away from Raphaela's attack, her teeth bared. Her fangs ripping Jayce's jacket at the shoulder, snapping her fangs at her throat.

Clar tried to find the dagger Jayce had given to him— A small figure, leaped across the floor, between Clar's feet, and threw itself at Raphaela. Raphaela screamed. Simone hanging onto the vampires forearm, and sank her teeth into the flesh of it. Raphaela let Jayce go, falling backward, blood coming from her arm now. Jayce gaped her mouth open. "Holy f—" Raphaela regained her balence and tore the rat away from her arm and flung her across the floor.

Simone let out a squeak of pain and ran back to Clar. He bent and snatched her up, holding her tightly. "Simone, it's—" "We don't have time right now. Hold on to her," Jayce grabbed him by the arm. In her other hand she held her seraph blade. "Move." Pulling him along to the end of the crowd. The vampires were turning away from the light that radiated off her seraph blade.

"That's enough, stop standing around,!" hissed Raphaela. "Catch them and kill all three." They started coming towards them, swooping like bats. Jayce quickened get pace, heading towards the far end wall. Clar looked at her. "Why don't we stand back to back?" "Why would we do that?" "It works in the movies. When the characters are in this sort of situation they do it." He felt her shake and thought maybe for a minute she was scared but realized she was actually laughing. "You," she said. "You may be the most—". "May be the most what?" he demanded. As they continued to back up, avoiding the broken things that lay around. Jayce still held her seraph blade up, the light still keeping them back a little. Clar couldn't help but wonder how long this would keep them away.

"It's nothing," she said. "I use the word situation only when things get really bad." "Really bad? Are you trying to tell me this isn't really bad? What exactly are you waiting for then, a bomb to explode or—" He broke off with a scream as Lillian launched himself at Jayce, braving the light from the angel blade. Jayce grabbed her other blade from her belt and threw it at Lillian, causing a long gash along his arm.

There were so many of them, he thought as he curled his finger tightly around the hilt of the dagger Jayce had given him. He didn't know how to use it, he'd never hit anyone before, and definitely had never stabbed anyone. He even skipped the day they were teaching how to ward off muggers and rapists at his school. He was starting to pull the knife free when the windows exploded inward, shattered glass flying everywhere.

The vampires who were almost on Jayce and him, had looks of astonishment and terror. Through the shattered windows came a dozen maybe more, shapes, that looked like wolves. Growling at the vampires.

"Now you see, this," said Jayce. "This is what we call a situation." The werewolves snarled at the vampires, and the vampires still stunned backed away slightly. Raphaela was the only one who didn't and called out something in spanish that even Clar who didn't know much of it understood. The moon's children—werewolves. "I thought vampires and werewolves hated each other," Clar whispered to Jayce. "They do. They never come to each other's lairs. They aren't allowed to, the law forbids it," she sounded slightly Indignant. "Something must have happened. This is very bad." "Now it's bad? How can it be any worse than earlier?" "Cause, we're going to be in the middle of a war between them."

Raphaela screamed "HOW DARE YOU COME HERE?" The largest wolf gave a chuckle as he moved forward, with each step transforming back to human form it appeared. "We didn't come for a blood bath," he said. "We came for the boy." Raphaela looking angry and surprised at the same time. "Who exactly?" "The human boy." The werewolf pointed at Clar. Clar was shocked and confused. "You didn't say you knew werewolves," said Jayce sounding surprised. "That's cause I don't," he said. "Oh, this is bad," she said. "You've said that already." "It seemed to be worth repeating." "It really wasn't," he said and moved closer to her. "Jayce, everyone is looking at me." Everyone looked at him with astonishment. Raphaela looked back to the werewolves. "You can't have him," she said. "He trespassed, therefore he is ours now."

The werewolf chuckled again. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said. He launched at Raphaela. As he turned back into wolf form. And hit Raphaela, they begun to fight. All the vampires and werewolves started attacking each other. Jayce let out a whistle. "Man, Raphaela is having such a bad night." "And what about it?" said Clar having no sympathy. "So what's the plan here?" She looked around. They were trapped in a corner by the battle going on. No one was paying attention to them though. but Clar doubted that would last long. At that moment Simone jumped out of his hands and ran to a corner with drapes. "Simone, stop!" Jayce rasied her eyebrows quizzically. "What is she—" She grabbed his arm jerking him back. "Clar, don't go after her, she's a rat. She's fleeing, that's what they do."

He looked to her furiously. "She's not a rat. She's Simone. And you should be more grateful, she bit Raphaela for you." He yanked free of her strong grip on him and ran to Simone, who was pawing at the drapes, realizaing, she was trying to tell him something he pushed the away, behind them was a door. "A door," he said. "You genius." Jayce was right behind him. "A door, huh?Does it open?" He grabbed at the knob trying to turn it but it didn't budge. "I think it's locked ot stuck.' Jayce threw herself against. But again it didn't budge. She let out a swear word. "My shoulder will never be the same again, I expect you to nurse me back to health when we get out of here." "Would you just get it open," he said. "Well it may be easier if you helped," she said. "Believe me if I thought I would actually be of any use here I would, but I am not some strong goddess warrior like you," he replied. She looked past him, her eyes wide. "Uh, Clar—"

One of the wolves was coming for them. Clar let out a high pitched scream, not very manly he thought. Jayce threw herself against the door another time, cursing again. Clar grabbed the dagger and threw it at the wolf. He'd never thrown one before so he was surprised when it wobbly hit it's mark. It yelped in pain. But three more wolves were coming now. Clar let out another scream as Jayce hurled herself against the door Another time and it gave in. She was strong he thought. "Third time's the charm they say," she said while panting, while holding her shoulder. She ducked into the doorway. "Come on, Clar."

He went in after her and flung the door shut, As two bodies hut against it. He fumbled for the bolt but it was gone, torn away from Jayce breaking it. "Duck," she said, as she whipped her Stele out and drew a rune on the door. he looked at the rune and saw that it said: to hold against. "I lost your dagger," he said apologetically. "That happens," she said and put her Stele back in her pocket. The wolves were banging against the door. The rune will hold for now but not for long, we need to hurry."

He looked up and saw a set of narrow stairs, they looked unstable. "Ok," he nodded at Jayce. "You go first, graceful Shadowhunter." She looked like she would have grinned if not for how tired she was. "You know i like to be first. But," she added. "I don't think the stair will hold our weight." He wasn't sure of that himself. The steps creaked under their steps. Clar gripped the banister for balence but a piece broke off as he did, he let out a squeak as it did and Jayce gave an exhausted chuckle. She took his hand. "Steady now," she said, helping him. Simone made a snort like noise but Jayce didn't seem to hear it.

They stumbled up the stairs as quickly as they dared to go. Going landing after landing, he still didn't see any doors. When they reached the fourth turn of the spiraled stairs, they heard the door far down break in. "They broke it down," said Jayce in a grim tone. "I thought it would hold a little longer than that, damnit." "So, do we run now?' he said. "We run now," she said, and they started to run up the stairs, it Screeching under their quick steps. He could hear the thudding if the werewolves on the stairs a few landings down.

When they came to the sixth landing, they flung themselves into it, Clar gasped for breath, he managed to let out a weak cheer when he saw the door. A steel door, it looked heavy. It was propped open with and break. He didn't have time to wonder why, cause Jayce kicked it open and pushed him threw, following, and slammed it shut. He heard the lock click and thought thank God.

He looked up and saw the dim stars in the sky, disappearing as the dawn was coming. They were on the roof. "This must be how they come and go," she said, giving a glance back at the door. The dim light coming from dawn helped Clar see her properly, she looked strained and dirty. "They fly to get up here. But that doesn't help us."

"Maybe there's a fire escape or something?" he suggested. They looked along the edge of the roof for one. Clar hated heights, they always made his stomach turn. He saw a fire escape, it was barely hanging on and did not look safe at all. "Guess not," he said.

The door was vibrating now, someone turning the knob. Probably wouldn't hold much longer, he thought. Jayce had her face in her hands and was muttering to herself. "Think, Jayce, think—" Suddenly a shape formed in the back of Clar's mind. No, it was a rune, it looked like a pair of wings. "I got it," said Jayce. For a minute he thought she had read his mind. Her golden eyes bright. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before." She ran off to the far end of the roof, she stopped and looked back at him. "Are you coming, Clar?" He realized he was still standing dazed. He followed and saw she was pulling away a tarp. It came away, to reveal motorcycles.

"Motorcycles?" he said. Jayce went to the nearest one and swung a leg over it, she looked over her shoulder at Clar. "Hurry up anf get on." He just stared at her. "You've got to be kidding? Do you know how to drive this? Do you even have the keys for it?" "I do not need keys," she said with patience. "It is powered by demon energies. Now are you getting on, or would you like to get your own?" Clar slid on the back of the bike behind her. In the back of his brain a voice was yelling at him this is a terrible idea, Clar.

"Great," said Jayce. "Put your arms around me so you don't fall off." He did, and was once again reminded of how strong she was, he felt her abdomen muscles contract as she leaned over and drew a rune onto the ignition of the bike. Shadowhunters were very muscular he thought. He heard Simone squeak in his pocket. "Jayce!" he shouted. "What are you doing exactly?" She yelled back something about pushing in the choke! or something. "Well, hurry it up! The door is gonna—"

The roof door burst open, the wolves were pouring out of it, heading towards them. The vampires were out as well. He felt Jayce pull her arm back and the motorcycle go forward, making his stomach turn for the hundredth time or so for the night. He grabbed onto Jayce tighter. The wolves leaped aside. Jayce shouted something but he couldn't hear what it was. They were heading towards the edge of the roof and he was once again thinking of what a bad idea this was, he wanted to close his eyes shut buy didn't. The motorcycle went over the edge of the roof and for a minute he thought we are gonna fall ten stories down.

——————

When they got back to the Institute, Alec went to change out of the clothes she had worn to Magna Bane's party. Was Magna really interested in her? Usually people were interested in Jayce, not Alec. But Alec could understand after all Jayce was a beautiful warrior, and her eyes being gold, which is rare, got her a lot of attention. Alec didn't mind being the shadow, or so she told herself.

She supposed maybe she was but it didn't matter, Alec could never be with a woman, even though she only saw women that way. She would go on to marry some man her parents would most likely pick for her and have children with him but be trapped in a loveless marriage, always wondering what it would be like to actually be with a woman and be loved by one. She knew she would never be fully happy, but she let herself Imagine what it could be like to date Magna, she was beautiful Alec thought, so beautiful. And her cat eyes were even more beautiful. she remembered when she had winked at her and said to call her, she knew how red her face on gone then.

(Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @bookfast-at-tiffanys @simply-ellas-stuff @my-archerboy @jazzkaurtheglorious )

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dc41896 · 4 years ago

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Hideaway (2)

Sorry if it’s too long. I honestly didn’t mean for it to be this long but my mind and fingers kept going 😬😂

Pairing: Ransom DrysdalexBlack Reader

⚠️: Very very tiny angst, fluff other than that😊

Stretching his arms over his head, his lids flutter open adjusting to the sunlight illuminating the room. As he slowly rises, running a hand through his wild hair, he notices your missing body from the other side making him wonder when you left and where to. Picking up his phone from the bedside table, his screen lights up with texts and missed calls from Candice apparently still having something to get off her chest, along with a text from his mother making him internally groan.

Mother: Ransom we’re having dinner at your grandfather’s tonight. Hopefully you’ll find it important to join us

Mother: We’re planning to eat at 6 so try to get there no later

“Morning sleepyhead,” you smile entering the room and kicking off your sneakers.

“Look at you, up early and working out like one of those responsible adults you see on the commercials,” he sleepily smirks crossing his arms behind his head.

“Well usually I don’t wake up early, but I couldn’t get back to sleep so I figured why not.”

Ever since Ransom’s big reveal last night, it seemed to be all you could focus on. You always knew he was a big flirt so anytime it was directed towards you, you brushed it off as him just being Ransom. Now your mind was running in circles trying to dissect every line seeing if maybe you had been missing something all along.

To calm this, you thought going for a quick run on the treadmill might help, but you still couldn’t escape from his words eating away at your mind.

“Did you eat yet?,” he asks removing the white covers from his body as he steps out of bed.

“Not yet, all I’ve had is a protein shake. Let me guess, you’re hoping I’ll make you breakfast too?,” you smirk making him chuckle as he puts on his sweats.

“I was actually gonna offer to take you out as a thank you for everything or even make something here, but if you insist on cooking yourself-,”

“Hold up, you’re offering to cook? You? Hugh Ransom Drysdale? Can you even cook?”

“Yes and I’d say so since I’ve taken care of myself this long. You won’t know until you find out though.”

Tilting your head with hands on your hips, as you seemingly analyze the man in front of you making him playfully roll his blue eyes laughing at your expression. “Come on we don’t have all day so what’s it gonna be cupcake?”

“Fine we can go to breakfast. I don’t need you potentially burning down my place trying to make toast,” you answer walking into your bathroom to get ready for the day.

———

“Thank you,” you smile as the waiter placed your French toast, eggs, bacon, and fruit in front of you. Taking a sip of his mimosa, his circular gold rimmed shades hide his eyes stuck on your body from the table up. How the sun hit your skin just right that you seemed to have an angelic glow. How you could manage to look so beautiful while doing nothing but sitting in your own world eating one of your favorite foods.

“So what else do I owe the pleasure of this fancy breakfast?,” you ask gently setting down your fork as you clasp your hands together in front of you on the table.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ransom I know you like a cat knows it’s whiskers, what else do you want?”

“Ok first off, what kind of expression is that? Second I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to a dinner party tonight, but it had nothing to do with me treating you to breakfast. Like I said that was for last night.”

“And by dinner party you mean...”

“Dinner at my grandfather’s,” he sighs leaning back in his seat as you hang your head with a groan.

“No offense to your family Ransom, but I don’t know how many more times I can take Donna asking me about Black Lives Matter or how every time she sees me my hair is different.”

“Listen I know they’re all terrible, if I didn’t have to go I definitely wouldn’t be bringing it up but gramps wants to talk about his new book so I’m stuck. At least they like you though and will actually talk with you rather than at you,” he laughs taking a bite of his jellied toast.

“Sure if you count them going back and forth about politics, typically siding with the controversial view that definitely doesn’t favor anyone not white and rich to then ask me how I feel yea they’re great conversationalist,” you sarcastically smile downing your mimosa in three swallows.

“Alright how about this, we stay there long enough for me to talk to my grandfather, you try to stick with Marta or Meg until I come get you, then we go back to your place. Sound good?”

“Think Candice will still be hanging around yours?”

“I doubt it, but also knowing her flare for the dramatics my place might be trashed to the point of no return.”

Long sigh leaving your lips, you look at a now shades-less Ransom leaning forward to envelope one of your hands in both of his.

“Of course you don’t have to come, but having you there would help me more than you know.”

Yet again you now had his words spiraling through your mind, not trying to read too deep into it but also hoping not to be naive.

“....fine I’ll tag along. Don’t think this is a free favor though.”

“This nice breakfast isn’t enough cupcake?,” he smirks.

“Ha! No, but it’s a good start Hugh,” you reply finishing the last of your eggs.

———

Footsteps tapping against the old wooden steps, you and Ransom stop at the front doors taking a moment to mentally prepare for the next hour or so.

“If you do happen to be whisked away by my uncle or aunts and they get too much to handle, come get me.”

“What if you’re still with Harlan?”

“I’ll cut it short, say your cat is at the pet hospital and it’s an emergency or something.”

“I don’t have a cat though...”

“But they don’t know that. C’mon work with me cupcake,” he winks opening the door to lead you into the warmly lit foyer. It always surprised you how much everything still looked the same over the years. You even spotted the dark stain in the corner of the decorative rug reminding you of Ransom’s 11th birthday party.

You weren’t supposed to run in the house but of course with Ransom all rules went out the window. Trying to race back downstairs from helping him peak at his presents before anyone noticed, the cup in your hand tilted making the liquid splash on the pristine material. Not having time to react, Harlan’s deep voice asking why you guys weren’t outside made the both of you jump as your eyes started to gloss over.

However, Ransom immediately took the blame while also getting both of you off the hook saying he accidentally bumped your arm which is how the juice spilled. Sighing he just warned you both to be careful before going to find the housekeeper to try to clean it up.

Apparently the stain had already settled in too deep.

“I see you decided to grace us with your pre- Y/N?! Oh my gosh I didn’t know you were joining us too!,” Linda smiles walking over to hug you.

“Hi Mrs. Drysdale, it’s good to see you.”

“Honey I told you call me Linda, now come with me in the den where we can talk.”

“Actually Meg wanted to see her as soon as she got here. You know girl stuff,” Ransom interrupts taking your hand from Linda’s.

“Well when she gets here, then they can talk,” she replies taking back your hand. “You just worry about talking to your grandfather, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”

Leading you to the den where you hear the arguing voices of Walt and Richard, you turn your head to see Ransom mouthing “sorry” as you begrudgingly followed behind.

Luckily it wasn’t long until Meg arrived, immediately sneaking you away seeing the “please help me” in your eyes.

“God they can’t give it a rest for one dinner, sorry I couldn’t save you sooner,” she says taking a drag from her vape as you both sit in the chairs outside.

“You still saved me which I’m thankful for,” you laugh. “So how’s college? Fill me in on anything I need to know.”

“Where do I start? Well you remember the drama with my roommate right? So I finally snapped and was like listen either keep your mess on your side or I’m selling everything and I don’t care how you feel. Place has been spotless ever since.”

Giggling as you guys do your handshake, a pair of bright lights parking next to Ransom’s Beemer make you both momentarily pause trying to figure out who they belong to.

Trying to be careful taking her stilettos into consideration as she walks along the dirt path, her short black dress and gold Chanel purse instantly give away who had just arrived.

“Hi Meg! Y/N,” Candice fake smiles once safely reaching the front porch. “Is Ransom free? I have something for him.”

“Pretty sure he’s with our grandpa. Maybe try to give it to him later,” Meg answered, clearly annoyed as always by Candice, or any girlfriend of Ransom’s really.

“Well can you check?,” she snapped making you and Meg exchange a look knowing exactly what the other was saying. Exhaling the smoke from her juul in her direction, she stands up soon entering the house and leaving you and Candice awkwardly silent outside.

“So I guess this is your official appearance as a couple huh?,” she asks looking over her manicured nails.

“No, we’re not together Candice. I told you we’re-,”

“Just friends yea I’ve heard it countless times yet who was he with last night?,” she counters crossing her arms across her chest glaring at you. “You know, it’s really a shame how such a smart girl like yourself can’t see what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I hate to break it to you, but Ransom’s taking advantage of you. Think about it, back in high school he’d copy your notes, homework, and even cheat off your tests. Now he runs to you where he knows you’ll do for him since you have no one else.”

“...and he told you that?”

“He didn’t have to, anyone with eyes can see that,” she giggles just as Meg returns.

“He’s still with grandpa so you’re gonna have to give it to him later.”

“Ok, well let him know I stopped by and to text me later please,” she says giving a small wave as she walks down the steps. “Bye Meg and good luck with everything Y/N.”

Dirt and dust collecting in the air as she drives away, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat as your heartbeat quickened pace. You tried to deny her words and dismiss them as angry lies being used as a way to inflate her ego.

But it was too late, she was in your head and now you didn’t know what to think.

You hated to admit that some things did make sense, but Ransom was your childhood best friend. Yea he could be a cold hearted jerk at times to others, but he was never that way to you. Unless you just didn’t see it...

“Hey you ok? Did she say something to you?! I swear I’ll pull Malibu Barbie back here myself-,”

“That’s very rich calling me the trust fund baby when last time I checked you rely on the same thing!,” Ransom shouts just before slamming the door behind him. “Meg remind your creep of a little cousin where his allowance really comes from. Y/N I’m ready let’s go.”

Finally taking a moment to look at you, he sees your glossy eyes ready to overflow at any moment along with your frustrated expression.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Ask your girlfriend,” Meg answers comfortingly rubbing your back. “You really have excellent taste in women dear cousin.”

“I don’t need a child trying to dictate my love life. Now if you don’t mind the adults need to talk.”

“It’s ok Meg, I’ll talk to you later ok?” Giving you a hug she collects her purse before standing to point a finger at Ransom.

“You better fix it. Y/N doesn’t do anything to anyone and definitely doesn’t deserve to be hurt indirectly because of you,” she angrily whispers before walking inside and closing the door behind her.

“Alright what did she do this time?,” he sighs sitting in the chair across from you.

“Have you been using me?,” you whisper looking down at your hands.

“What kind of-,”

“Ransom just answer the question, have you ever taken advantage of me or are still doing so?!”

“I would but technically that’s two cupcake so which one do you want first?,” he lightly chuckles hoping you’d roll your eyes and laugh along like he could always make you do when you were upset. However, he quickly realized you were not in the mood.

“YOU REALLY THINK IM TRYING TO JOKE AROUND RIGHT NOW?!”

“Hey lower your voice! I’m right here I can hear you perfectly fine.”

“Clearly not since you won’t answer the question!”

“Fine have I before? Yes, but that was in high school! You were my friend and a bit of a push over so I knew you’d always help me out.”

“And that’s how you’ve thought about me ever since.” Rising to your feet, you rush back in the house immediately entering the study so no one can see your stained cheeks.

You couldn’t believe it, but Candice was right and your “friendship” was turning out to be a lie. Pacing back and forth across the room, several emotions swirled through your head; hurt, rage, disappointment at yourself for not seeing it sooner.

“What did Candice say to you?,” Ransom asks tossing his keys on the desk clearly seeing how you guys would be here for a while.

“God how could I be such an idiot for all these years?! That explains the argument about me then.”

“How did you-?”

“Last night I asked and you told me. You were half asleep so that’s why you don’t remember.”

“Listen whatever you’re trying to piece together stop because it’s not true,” he starts as he steps closer to you.

“And I’m supposed to believe that how?! I bet she tried to tell you to leave poor little old me alone but nooo you love having your cake and eating it,” you laugh to yourself, sneakers lightly squeaking against the hardwood floor.

“No she asked me why I always run to you and she didn’t like the answer I gave.”

“Why? You told her I do your laundry and wait on you better?,” you retort making him lowly chuckle running a hand through his hair.

“I told her you bring me comfort, peace, happiness, everything good that she nor any of my ex’s could ever bring.”

Pausing, you look at him through clouded eyes as he sighs placing his hands on his hips gazing up at the ceiling.

“That’s why I’m always at your place, why I’ve brought you to family dinners more than all of my ex’s combined. With you, any problems I have, whether it be with this highly dysfunctional family or anything else, you take that away. It’s weird, but sometimes I wish you could just be glued to me so I could take you everywhere and always have that feeling.”

“Sure that’s calmness from me and not from a lack of responsibility?”

“Yes,” he answers meeting your eyes. “And just as sure as me doing this is probably not gonna end well but I’m willing to take that risk to make you see what I’m saying is true.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, he closes the gap between the two of you until his lips meet yours. Not too gentle yet not too rough, his movements left you lips tingling as your body seemed to be getting a jumpstart from the jolt you felt. You couldn’t lie and say Ransom wasn’t your best kiss.

Figures seeing how the worst ones for you always seem to be the best at things like this.

Bringing yourself back to reality, your hand comes across his cheek with a loud smack you’re sure could be heard from a one mile radius as you push him away.

“Are you serious?!?!!”

“Yep and that was the bad ending,” he says holding his reddened, stinging cheek.

“You really thought kissing me was gonna magically make me change my mind!?”

“Not gonna lie I thought it would help,” he sighs. “Y/N you said so yourself that you knew me like a cat and it’s tail-,”

“It was a cat knows it’s whiskers.”

“Whatever, what I’m trying to say is that you know me. The guy you said that to a few hours ago is the same guy right now. Yes I’ve wronged you before and I’m sorry, but I swear to you it was only in high school that was it. Whenever I come to you, it’s because I want to be with you even in those times you watch those awful romantic comedies that literally all have the same plot and ending but you still get emotional over and love,” he finishes making you giggle.

“You hate them yet you cried at Maid in Manhattan.”

“Only because the whole thing was so bad and honestly makes no sense! How did she not know-?”

Now was your turn to catch him off guard crashing your lips onto his. Arms snaking around his neck as his bring your body closer to him, you’re surprised by how natural it felt. Like you guys had been a couple this whole time and passionately kissing each other was just an everyday occurrence. If there were any weird feelings, they were now long gone as either of you only wanted to stay with the other like this for as long as you could.

However, that would soon be short lived once Harlan walked through the door making Ransom and yourself quickly separate trying to act as if nothing happened. Of course he could see straight through it as you nervously smiled trying to catch your breath and Ransom had his back turned with hands on the back of the couch.

“Y/N! How are you dear?,” Harlan smiled embracing you in a hug.

“I’m good Harlan and you?”

“The best that an old man like me can do I guess,” he chuckles. “Ransom didn’t tell me you came for dinner too.”

“I was planning on coming in the office to say hi after you both were done, but Meg and I started talking outside. I should’ve said something sooner though I’m sorry.”

“Oh it’s quite alright I understand,” he smiles patting your hand. “We’ll just have to catch up another time when you come visit since I’m sure you’ll be around more often.” Throwing a knowing look at his eldest grandson, who was now facing the both of you, Ransom shyly looks down with a quiet chuckle.

“How about tomorrow afternoon? I know you both probably have some other date you need to get to.”

“That sounds good, we’ll see you then,” you smile softly kissing his cheek as he kisses yours.

“Before you leave though, I do need to have a last few words with my grandson.”

“Sure, I’ll go tell everyone else bye.” Waiting until the door clicked behind you, Harlan lightly shakes his head as he lightly chuckles.

“What? You want to tell me I told you so since you’ve been waiting for us to get together since we were teenagers?”

“No, I just hope you know what you’re getting into. Y/N isn’t like the other girlfriends you’ve had and won’t stand for any of the nonsense you did while with them. She’s a good girl and deserves respect.”

“Jeez you sound like her father,” Ransom replies rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious Ransom.”

“I know, and I am too. I know she deserves better, which is why I’m trying to get my stuff together and show her she’s not making a mistake by being with me or even being friends with me. I need her in my life and whatever I have to do to keep her I will, no question.”

Studying his blue eyes and his softened yet serious features, a proud smile spreads across Harlan’s face as he rests his hand on Ransom’s shoulder.

“Good. You saying that I can already tell you’re on the right track.”

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @honeychicanawrites @lady-olive-oil @my-rosegold-soul @crushed-pink-petals-writes @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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How Do I Love You? || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Deirdre comes home from her troubled visit to Ireland with more questions than she left with. Morgan yearns to give her answers.

WARNINGS: discussions and descriptions of physical and emotional abuse, wound cleaning and dressing.

The door opened slow, silent to Deirdre’s arrival. She waited at the threshold like a stranger, dragging her luggage after her in haphazard afterthought. She looked to the corners for what creatures may lurk in their shadows, but the house she shared with her love was always well-lit, darkness didn’t know how to cling to their edges and swallow their happinesses. It took her a moment to remember she was safe here, and even then the phantom of her mother pressed against her body—in the place she was crudely bandaged, in the bruises along her ribs. She moved, light-footed, through the house. She was a ghost returning to her grave, only knowing she was real when Moira padded up to her, mewling. She stared at the creature emptily, trying to drum up the affection she knew was supposed to be there—that she knew she held for the white kitten. Moira continued to shout, and Deirdre continued to look down at her. There was love here, she knew. There was always love here. It lived in the light that warded away the shadows, in the meals shared, on the laughter and the music. But love felt too distant a concept, too foreign a memory—something that was once again beyond her. She crouched to appease the screaming creature, petting it where she remembered it liked, but couldn’t feel it for herself. “Where’s Morgan?” She asked to no avail, finding unintelligible purring to be the response. “Do you love me?” She asked, wondering if the purring was the answer. Then she remembered how silly it was to think animals knew anything about affection—how silly it was for her to think she knew too—and she sighed. Moira mewed again, louder, as if trying to summon Morgan. If Deirdre had the power, she would have thanked the cat for being brave where Deirdre wasn’t.

Morgan was curled up in the great room, cuddling a line of pillows and scrolling through student work while she waited for Deirdre’s next call. It wasn’t a long trip, nothing to be in agonies over. This way she could at least try to be productive with all her extra zombie time. Going to bed alone was too strange, so she’d taken to laying herself out on the couch at night. She heard a faint sound, too soft to be recognizable, but Moira hopped off her lap and padded over with interest, mewling louder and more excitedly when she found whatever it was this time.

“Whatcha find, honey bun?” She called to the kitten.

She kicked out from under her blankets and followed, turning on the lights as she did.

“Mother of earth--” Deirdre. Real in the flesh and home early Deirdre. Morgan ran to her, launching herself at a leap to get her arms around her neck just right. “You came back to me,” she whispered sweetly. “You should’ve told me you were coming early, I would’ve picked you up! Oh, my love--” She kissed her jaw and cheek and her small earlobe. She held her as tight as she dared and tried to nestle her body into all the places it had missed being. But there was something wrong. Morgan didn’t know how she could tell, if there was something in the way she held her muscles or the quiet, or maybe the whole sneaking in without calling and not finding her at once. They were always so ready to find each other again. Morgan settled and looked up at Deirdre, lifting a hand to tenderly brush her cheek. “Hey,” She cooed in a whisper. “What is it babe?” She searched for her gaze, worry knotting her brow. “...Did they hurt you?” She asked.

She was whole when Morgan held her, blossomed to life where they touched. But each bloom of warmth, became engulfed quickly in her cold—dead where it’s just learned to live. Deirdre slumped against her, her tight grip hurt, but the pain was different than the kind she knew. This brought her to life, the others always chased life away. She lifted her arms slowly, with a quiet wince, trying to hold her back the way she knew she usually did. Did they hurt you? Deirdre’s eyes grew wide, she drew her hands away as if the question offended her. Then dropped her head, ashamed. To speak the truth would breed misunderstanding, but to lie to the woman she loved was worse. Unable to find words, she tugged at the hem of the old sweater she was wearing. Were she stronger, she would have lifted it above her head and let truth speak for itself. Instead, she remained frozen with her hand anchored to the fraying edge. “It’s not like that,” she explained, “that’s just what happens. It’s not like that.” She had a dozen excuses practiced from her childhood burning at the edge of her tongue, of stairs she fell down, punishment she rightfully wrought, horses that bucked. Each sat ready for her. “It’s fine, anyway.” Resolve failing her, she dropped her hand from her sweater, though wouldn’t dare meet Morgan’s eyes. “It just happens sometimes. It’s supposed to.”

Morgan knew what the answer was the moment Deirdre let her go. She had a look that Morgan was all too familiar with, embarrassment, shame. “Deirdre…” Her sweater only moved up a few inches, showing a mottled mess of purple-yellow bruising. It wasn’t the heart of a blow, but the outer edges of something worse. Morgan couldn’t keep her eyes from going wide with horror. The best she could do was cover her mouth so she didn’t cry out. There was nothing to do, she’d been left behind and no one had been there to stop this. In Deirdre’s world, in her family, this was what happened to daughters. “You know what I think about that,” she whispered, parting her fingers just enough to be heard. She should have been there. She should have insisted on coming. She should have zipped herself up in the luggage. Anything. But she could hate herself for putting even an ounce of hope in the Dolans later. “I want to know what happened, besides just this. But we don’t have to right now, okay?” She took Deirdre’s hand and locked their fingers together before bringing it up to her lips. “The only thing I’m going to insist on is that you get out of those clothes. You’ve been traveling all day, and all your robes are back from the dry cleaners. I can get the shears, if your arms hurt.” She brought Deirdre’s hand up to cup her own cheek, to cradle it the way she did so often, in a way so firm and perfect, nuzzling pillows could never compare. “I’d like to get some stuff on your wounds, at least some fresh bandages, but we don’t have to do that tonight either, okay?” She said, pleading with her eyes. “You’re home with me. We’re together now. You don’t have to do anything else you don’t to tonight, my love. Just tell me what you need, and then I’ll grab the shears real quick, okay?”

She knew what Morgan thought, and she knew what she ought to say about it. She learned the ways she was supposed to defend her family, and her mother. The things she was supposed to tell herself about how the humans never understood them, how their family was all they had—it was their righteousness against the sin of humanity. There would be one victor, and only one side to take. Deirdre’s eyes drifted instead to the couch. It would be nice to sit, she thought. Her legs were swollen from walking and her body tired from the day. Could she ask to be cared for though? Did she have the right? She turned to Morgan, feeling her lips against her fingers, then her hand held against her face. “Why do you love me?” She questioned, drawing her hand away. Deirdre sighed and pulled her sweater off, tensing through the pain and embarrassment. There was no need to cut up a perfectly innocent sweater because of her weakness, no need for more to suffer by her failures. She let the fabric slip through her fingers and fall, suddenly cold in her bareness. “And why don’t I have to do anything else?” Her questions were not born of malice, but coated with frailty. She feared the answer, she feared to learn that somewhere, Morgan didn’t love her. She grasped blindly for sense and truth. The poor bandaging around her shoulder had come loose, the blood-soaked gauze slowly unweaving until it fell beside her sweater on the floor. She knew what Morgan thought, and she knew what she ought to say. “It’s not like that,” she repeated, but the rest of her usual speech felt too cruel for her girlfriend—words of how she didn’t understand, how she could never. It might have been the right thing to say, but it wasn’t what she wanted. If she could be allowed selfishness just once, it would be to spare Morgan from this pain. Deirdre pushed her heavy legs forward, pointing at the couch. “I’ll sit,” she said, “and you can bring what you want. And we can talk, if you want. If that’s okay. If you won’t be mad at me, or maybe only if you will.”

Morgan’s eyes watered as she took in what Deirdre’s family had done to her torso. No vital organs, nothing that would be visible over the right clothing. It was an exacting kind of torture, something that had been done with a great deal of practice, even refinement. Morgan took several tremulous breaths before she spoke again. She could not make this about herself. She could not ask why this was necessary, much less if it had something to do with her. She could not ask why this was happening still, if Deirdre was done with her training and on her own with her new life. She needed to be here, and lift Deirdre out of the pit her family had pushed her into. She had to try.

Morgan sniffled, blinking back tears, and reached back for Deirdre again. “I have a very long answer to that first question, and several letters I can take out for textual evidence, if that’s something you’d like to insist on. But we should probably get out of the foyer for that. And you don’t have to do anything else besides finish undressing because I love you, and I know something awful happened over there and you--it seems like you’re in the pit right now. And if I know anything about that, it’s that it’s so hard already getting out. It’s so much, and you came home early, and now you’re safe and you’re here with me, and I love you so very much, I couldn’t bear to ask anything more of you. But if you’re okay with me getting you your robe, changing your bandage, just taking care of you a little, then I will. The last thing I am, my love, is mad at you.” She squeezed her fingertips. “Go sit and finish with your clothes and and I’ll get everything else we might need so I don’t keep running for things. I’d much rather stay close to you instead.” She smiled, a wish of hope, and nodded encouragingly at Deirdre before backing slowly away to get all the supplies she might need tonight.

“And you don’t have a book somewhere, about how I’m just a curiosity or—“ Deirdre shook her head, “never mind.” She trusted Morgan, she had to. With what little was left of her, she had to. She had learned that all of her life was deserved suffering, unavoidable pain, she had to believe that the goodness of her relationship with Morgan was true, in some way, for one of them. That at least, of all things, Morgan was happy. Her fingers left Morgan’s and she curled them around the open air, trying to find her again; scared that if she left, she might never come back. Her plea sat silently in her eyes, burning into Morgan’s back. She didn’t know much about being in a pit, she was sure she must have been born in one—in quicksand, where the only place she could be pulled was down. But she moved to the couch, undressing herself slowly on the way until she could curl up naked against the fabric. Hot blood poured down from her shoulder; the wound never had got the care or attention it needed, but her wounds rarely did. She healed just quick enough to be able to ignore them, and she so often cared for herself that way. It felt strange and wrong to let Morgan do anything else to her, but she wasn’t so sure that she knew best anymore. “Nothing terrible happened to me,” she explained to no one, reaching down to poke one of her smaller bruises. There was a dull ache where she pressed, but consumed so quickly by numbness that she thought she must have imagined it to begin with. She must have imagined it all. It wasn’t like Morgan was thinking, it wasn’t that bad. She poked another and found no pain. When Morgan came back, she would tell her of her findings, that she really just must have fallen from a horse, and it didn’t hurt. But unbeknownst to her, her shoulder painted a different story against the fabric, bleeding free and wild—begging for attention. It left an ever-growing sheet of red, eagerly awaiting Morgan’s return.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Morgan assured Deirdre. And while she did run from one room to the next, collecting all the comforts and distractions she thought they might possibly want. Pie, first aid, scented soap, epsom salts, and a basin of water. Old essential oils she’d kept, a book, a blanket, the silk robe Deirdre seemed to favor the most, and more besides. She came into the great room with them all and set them down as neatly between the coffee table and the floor near the couch as she could manage. “That wasn’t too long, right? When I said something awful, I didn’t actually mean your-- your shoulder!” Morgan nearly toppled the water basin as she grabbed the first aid bin and rushed to Deirdre’s side. “I didn’t realize it was still bleeding, I’m so sorry, my love. Here, let me.” She wet one of the towels she’d brought and hovered it over the wound. “It looks deep, but I’ll go as gentle as I can, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t notice before.” The couch might be done for, but it was hardly one of a kind. They could replace it with another just like it if they really wanted. Morgan began to clean the stain dripping down her arm and back. “Do you still want me to tell you…?” She asked, voice wavering as the blood diluted to pink and spread over her freckled back. “Why I love you so much, Deirdre?”

Deirdre felt much more like herself, surrounded by her things and the sensations she loved. She felt the most like herself around Morgan, hearing her voice float through the air—every quiver and climbing pitch. But the more she felt like herself, the more pain swelled in her body and mind, and the less she wanted to be herself. Deirdre reached over to the coffee table and grabbed her robe as Morgan fussed about, smiling at what she felt were misplaced antics. She draped the robe across her legs, grinning. “It’s okay,” she assured, her amusement falling away when she turned to look at what she’d done to their couch. She paled, throat burning with the threat of bile. Her mother hated mess, she was so particular about the way things had to be, and she especially hated blood. Deirdre always had to clean up after; scrub floors until she’d worn them so far down that they turned into another color altogether, upholster furniture when it couldn’t be saved. Sometimes it was enough, most of the time it wasn’t. She closed her eyes. “Will I believe it if you tell me? I don’t think it matters if I don’t believe it.” She said solemnly, then added, “but will you tell me anyway? Can you? Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Morgan murmured. She swept Deirdre’s hair off her back and over her shoulder and planted a tender kiss at the nape of her neck. Lingering there, lips brushing against her skin, she said, “If I promise you, you’ll have to believe me, though, right? Because then you’d be able to tell if it was a lie. Hm?” She continued to clean the wound, adding soap to the surrounding area so it was properly clean. “I promise I love you because being around you makes me feel calmer, and lighter, no matter how else either of us are feeling. I promise I love you because everything’s better when we’re together. I love you because you’re silly and strange, and because you’re serious and wise and sad--I promise that too. I promise I love you because you surprise me, and because you have so many distinct faces, getting to know you is like learning a secret language. My favorite one, obviously. And I promise I love you because you believe in me, and hope, and because you understand the world as it is even better than me…” She pressed and patted the wound with the dry end of the towel and squeezed antibiotic ointment onto the spot and fashioned a new bandage from their copious supplies. And as she went, she continued to promise her reasons: Because of the time she threw a fit in a bowling alley, because she liked pie, because she listened and wanted to understand her, because of the weekend they spent watching every adaptation of Pride and Prejudice in existence, and the volumes of Mary Oliver they read, and each way Deirdre held her. For the pain she carried, for the kindness within her, for her mischief, for the time she took her to a farm, all the stories she told, the letters she wrote, every word she’d ever spoken, even the ones made in fear and frustration. “And, you know, you’re so full of surprises, I think I’d be just as delighted to see you change. I already have and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, you know? So I guess this is just a really long, absurd way of telling you something you told me in one of your letters when I asked you the same thing. I love you because I want to know you, Deirdre. And then I love you because I do. Loving you changed my life! And somehow it’s one of the easiest things I’ve learned to do, even if I’m still learning it. And I promise you that this is true.” She pressed the bandage tape in place and let her fingers skate tenderly across the rest of her shoulders and down her back.

To hear Morgan talk, Deirdre would have thought she was meant for grander things after all. She waited for the resounding revelation to ring through her, just the way the truth of her love did. But doubt clung tight, digging its claws too deep for Morgan’s kindness. She listened to each word and repeated them in her head with each pause. She wanted it to be true so desperately, that she could be allowed to have this. That there was no such thing as pain, that something good could come of her. Her mother’s words bayed louder. Deirdre opened her eyes. When she was sure Morgan’s hands were done with the bandaging, she spun to face her girlfriend and drew her tightly into her arms. She might just have undone Morgan’s work right there, but the pang of guilt was quickly washed by the roar of affection. She felt so much like herself again, that she wept. “You couldn’t have said just one thing, could you?” She laughed, drawing her into a quick, but hungry kiss. She could have stewed in her sadness, she could have mulled in her curled up body alone, but her love for Morgan proved again to be too large for containment—too important for silence. “I know I’m not meant for love, I know I’m not supposed to have you, I know I’m supposed to hurt but I...I just want to be good. Good enough to keep you. So good that we can forget that I’m not made for this in the first place. I love you. I want you so badly, Morgan. I want us.” She pulled back, pressing her hand against Morgan’s bandage to make sure it was still in the place she secured it. “I know that now, I thought about it on the plane over. That even though this is more than I should have, I still want it. I still want to try for it. I made that decision the day I told you how I felt; I make it happily again everyday. My mother, she can—“ Deirdre swallowed. She can what? She dreaded to finish the sentence, in all her excitement, she dared to say something she would regret. Pain and panic shot through and she fell back with a wince. Her fervour died, and she dissolved back into a slump. “My best childhood memories are with my great-great-grandmother. We took walks, preserved fruits, went fishing but caught nothing—and each day ended with screaming at jars. Which never worked well, but it was so much better than what my mother had me do. I loved those days. It turns out she didn’t care for them, or me.” Deirdre turned her head, finding something interesting in their blank walls. “I’m not meant to be loved. I’m just not. Not by anyone. That’s not what banshees get, not my kind. I know you just explained it, but it just—one day, maybe it’ll go away for you. That’s usually what happens. It’d be okay, if it did. If it was better for you if it did. I’ll be okay with that. I’m just happy you’re here with me now, I won’t take that for granted.”

“If I said just one thing, it wouldn’t have been the whole truth,” Morgan said, her voice lilting up with delight as Deirdre’s arms found their way around her at last. “I think I still missed a few things, but I can get back to you with them later if you want.” As they parted, she smiled, full of relief and affection, and tumbed away her love’s tears from her cheeks, covering the damp spots with firm, fresh kisses. “I’m yours, Deirdre, I’m already yours. You have me, and we’re together. I want the same thing, you and me. You love me so well, so well I’d swear if I didn’t know better that you were made for me, or if I was for you. We fit like we were sometimes, don’t we?” The affection stored up from their time apart was bursting out of her so quickly, she was stumbling over Deirdre’s words. She cradled her face, so dear, so missed in the past few days. Nothing else really did compare. “Yes, my love--?” She prompted.

But whatever light had burst out of Deirdre deflated quickly, Morgan stayed close, curling up in the space between her arm and her waist. She laid her head very carefully on her shoulder, away from the bandage she had just fixed. “Hey…” she whispered, dusting her fingers over her collarbones. “I’m sorry, my love. I know how you loved her. I can only imagine…” She kissed her collarbone. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more for you, that this cycle is so...isolated and cold and so much less than what I want for you. You know I don’t think that’s true, that you’re fixed to exist without love. All the problems we’ve ever had, they weren’t really to do with you. It was...the world, and expectations, and fears we were saddled with, and me stupidly telling you every other week how I felt, and...anyways. Even if that’s true, that just means you are even more of a miracle than anyone realizes already. My miracle love, Deirdre.” She kissed her shoulder, light as a breath. “And it’s okay if that goes away for you someday. That wouldn’t make what we have right now any less special or true or beautiful. It’s all okay. I’m yours as long as you’ll keep me. I love you, beyond anything I know how to express.” She kissed her again and let her cheek rest thoughtfully against Deirdre’s body. “Can I get anything for you? I brought a little of everything, and I don’t think this is enough to count as a real welcome home.”

It was so strange now to think of the things her family said, Morgan sounded so right—felt so right. How could this have been something she wasn’t meant for? Deirdre sighed. She wasn’t exactly sure what strange magic, what divine luck, had her allowed to hold and love Morgan, and had Morgan able to love her back. Whatever it was, she thanked it. Whatever it was, she would always try to be worthy of it. But that didn’t change the truth. “She was kind to me where no one else was. I did love her. I thought she–maybe that was my mistake. And it wasn’t stupid. Your honesty, I mean. It wasn’t stupid. I appreciated it.” She smiled, leaning her head against Morgan’s. “I know you don’t think it’s true, I know that somewhere in your head is some magical equation where my happiness makes sense to you. I wish I knew it, but I wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not the truth; the truth is that I’m made to suffer. Banshees are a legacy of pain….you can’t—“ she swallowed, her heart thumping against its cage. Some part of her mind begged to keep this tucked away; she loved Morgan’s gentle words, her fantastical concepts of affection and freedom. When they were apart, she played them back in her head. That she was good, that she deserved good, that she could have it. But it wasn’t true. “You can’t train a banshee without hurting her. You have to do it, she has to be tortured. I went—I promised Regan I would find a better way, but that’s the only way. That’s the only way to make it work. Everything my mother did to me was right, everything she continues to do is right.” Deirdre stiffened, reaching her healthy arm across to find Morgan’s hand to hold. “All I am, and all I ever will be, is just some thing designed for pain.” She tightened her grip on her girlfriend’s hand, knowing that the only reason she knew how to press this hard was because of all the pain she caused—every animal and human that cried and whimpered under her. She drew her hand away and tugged her robe on the best she could from her angle. “I know what you said about it, I know what you think about it. I love the words that you say, I don’t want you to stop thinking that...but it’s not true. I’m sorry. You hoped so much for me, and it wasn’t true.” She gave up the idea of resting her injured side and lifted that arm up too, holding Morgan close to her. “I don’t want anything much, just you. I’m sorry I can’t hold you better right now. It’ll heal quickly to the point where I can move around in a day or two, it usually does. It’s really not that bad.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Morgan whispered. “You have so much love in you--even if it turns out she didn’t know how to appreciate it, it wasn’t a mistake.” Her eyes welled to hear the rest of Deirdre’s words. She shook her head, her hand fluttering to touch and comfort Deirdre where she was still soft and physically unharmed. “Don’t talk like that,” she whispered. “That’s not who you are, Deirdre, you aren’t like that…” Her voice cracked as Deirdre strained her arm to bring her closer and hold her as best she could, as she apologised for not being better after having the ‘truth’ beaten into her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she sniffled. For a moment she could say no more. The effort of swallowing back her tears was too much and she had to give it her all, face pressed into her love’s cheek.

“Listen to me, as much as you can, okay? You are not a thing,” She said at last. “You are not some toy to be beaten by the universe or anyone else. Maybe fate insists on traumatizing you, maybe the pain of carrying your power makes it hard to master without suffering, but you are not a thing. You are the most incredible woman I have ever met, and I will fight anyone who insists that it’s any other way. And I’m sorry we can’t help Regan the way you wanted to. It’s not fair, and she’s not going to understand that you’re doing your best, and she’s not going to understand that not having patience is only going to make worse, but even if banshees have to suffer trials and pain, I can’t believe that any of them were meant to be deprived of love altogether, especially you, especially now. There is no reason good enough for this to still be happening to you now.” She kissed Deirdre’s cheek and straightened up so she could look into her face.

“Before you say anything else, I need to tell you about what I saw in the mirrors when I went to the carnival with Skylar. I told you it was mostly awful, and I didn’t know how to talk about it, and that’s all true, but there was one good thing I saw. One good future--” Morgan brushed back her love’s hair with careful, tender fingers. “I saw a little girl who looked so much like you. She had gangly legs and freckles down her pale skin and brown hair and eyes like yours. She must have been...maybe thirteen, maybe younger? But she um…” Morgan gave a tearful laugh. “She had the most beautiful wings. They were so big, the tops went over her head when they were spread, and they fluttered so fast like they couldn’t keep still. They were brown and black and fuzzy at the ends, like a moth. And she was with me, and she was happy. Whatever her life was like, she was so happy, she was showing off these bones she’d knotted into her hair. It was such a mess, but she was...thrilled. And I don’t know why I shouldn’t believe in that little girl any less than I should believe in how fate-fucked I was by my curse. I don’t see why she should be any less real than my death. And I don’t see why you shouldn’t know about her, or why we shouldn’t try to strike a better balance with her someday. Maybe there’s nothing perfect, nothing like what you should have, my love, but maybe there’s still something a little better too.”

Deirdre leaned back, assuming that there was nothing new to be added. She would thank Morgan for her optimism, for her hope, she would think of it fondly as a dream—her words were sweet, and often a balm, but she knew the truth better now. It throbbed in her shoulder, stung against her sides. She winced through pain to hold Morgan tighter and tell her it was okay. Slowly, she lifted her hand to wipe Morgan’s tears away but was halted as she spoke again. Deirdre listened carefully, though she didn’t need to be told to; Morgan’s voice was honey, and she always adored hearing her thoughts. Deirdre smiled, reaching her hand across finally to wipe her tears. What she hadn’t expected was Morgan to shift, to look at her with such seriousness that Deirdre would’ve thought she held some groundbreaking secret. And by all accounts, she did. Deirdre’s hand dropped, her face scrunched together with confusion. “I don’t understand...do I turn into a child and–“ Heat rose to Deirdre’s face, flush spread across her cheeks and down her shoulders. She straightened out of her slump, blinking wide eyes. “Like a–like a daughter?” They had never spoken of having children before, and Deirdre never considered it, but the thought fluttered around her now like the faint buzz of hope. “Is that...something you want...one day? With m—I mean, we could if you—if that—“

But she quickly realized she wasn’t focusing on the aspect Morgan wanted to, and Deirdre grew silent as she mulled it over. The redness across her face died, and her slouch crept back. Her eyes dropped to the floor. It sounded too good to be true, that her and Morgan would have a happy family—a girl of 13, with beautiful wings and eyes and hair like the kind Deirdre got from her own mother. She felt sick, suddenly, imagining being a mother with her legacy, a mother like the one she had. “Did you see me?” She asked, then closed her eyes, trying to picture the scene for herself. She could see Morgan, happy, that idea came to her easily, but the vision of the child was muddy. She couldn’t see herself at all. “Maybe that’s it.” She opened her eyes, “maybe that’s how that works. If I’m not there.” Deirdre couldn’t think to raise a child like she had been, she couldn’t think of an alternative when she knew there wasn’t one either. There was no such thing as a happy child under the Dolan legacy, they weren’t meant to be happy. Her hand snapped up to her mouth, refusing bile that choked up, burning through her insides. Deirdre glanced up, wetness gathering in her eyes. “It isn’t possible,” she breathed, “I can’t have a–I won’t do what my mother did and there’s–there’s no other way. I don’t even want to do this to Regan! I can’t have a daughter! Do you know how much she’ll—a-and if she has wings that means she’s already—she already—“ The child has screamed, the words Deirdre read in her great-great-grandmother’s journal sparked to mind. Would she be like that? Some farce of care and affection? Her shoulder throbbed, her sides burned. Suddenly each injury she’d endured spring to memory and Deirdre winced, shutting her eyes. “Was she happy? Were you happy?”

“They wouldn’t speak to me,” Morgan admitted gently as Deirdre grew nervous, even excited. None of the visions had, least of all the one Morgan had wanted to hear from most. “I don’t know how big a part I had in her life, but I would be so happy, however you’d want me to--” But the rest was setting in, and it wasn’t with the measure of relief Morgan had hoped for. “Hey--” Morgan put her hand to Deirdre’s cheek. Her chest was ruined with bruises, she didn’t dare upset them with her touch. “Breathe, my love. You’re okay, and you’re safe.” She sniffled, her face matching Deirdre’s anguish. Whatever they did to her, whatever else she learned, it had wrecked all the hope she’d built up over the last six months. The grip of that place was so strong, Morgan wasn’t sure if surpassing the distance between then and now by twofold would be enough to make it slacken. Morgan didn’t have even half as many reasons to be afraid, and she had wondered at the same possibilities that Deirdre had. Where was the catch? Had Deirdre died? Was this just a visit from lonely Aunt Morgan or whatever children Deirdre had would call her? Was she some young Dolan cousin they were fostering away from the hold of her family? Was this a single moment of respite in a life marked with more torment than relief?

She hadn’t had the voice to ask in that moment, and her mirror self hadn’t offered any guidance. “Here’s what I know,” she said, tilting Deirdre’s face towards her in the hope that she would open her eyes. “In all the images I saw, it was only ever just me, like the picture had been cropped, you know? All of them, even my death, except for her. I know she was happy. Whatever she’d seen since getting her wings, she was still able to be happy, at least some of the time. And I know she felt loved. And somehow, she was ours. I’ve thought of so many ways she might’ve come to us, I have, but I know we were close and she was ours. And I think...she wouldn’t tell me, but I think you must have been there somewhere, because that other me was too smug and happy for you not to be. But don’t-- we don’t know how many years away that is, if that’s even something you would want to risk. I could’ve been a hundred in that picture for all I know. And I would be just as happy like this, with you and me and our friends and the cats. Maybe a cow someday.” She gave a tearful laugh and brushed her lips against Deirdre’s. “We don’t have to do anything,” she assured her. “I just want you to know because I think about her sometimes, especially when you’re sad. I want you to know because I believe in her. Even if that’s not what you choose, I still believe she’s possible. That’s all, my love.”

Deirdre barked in laughter, nervous and eager to expel the anxiety that twisted inside her. The cruel comedy of Morgan’s mirror vision wasn’t lost on her; that none offered any answers, and certainly not the one that reflected back hope. “Of course they wouldn’t,” her laughter died into a gentle chuckle--which hurt less against her ribs. “Sounds about right for White Crest, there’s no such thing as a good vision that tells you all of its secrets, is there?” Deirdre shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. If she allowed it, she could have gotten swept up in that idea and all its goodness. To know she had a daughter with Morgan, to know that all three of them must have been happy. To know that there was a life that existed somewhere; a place just for them. She tried believing it as she looked into Morgan’s earnest eyes. “You say that but...I just...I can’t.” Despite the pain, she pulled Morgan into her arms, as tightly as she could, as if she might try to transfer hope and optimism from her. As if she might feel it somehow, and she was desperate to feel it. She buried her face into Morgan’s hair, as if it might be there instead. “It sounds so good, Morgan. I--” She dreaded to say she wanted it, fearing with knowing delusion that her mother would barge in and take it from her. She knew her place in the world, she knew her family’s legacy. In her memory, she could see perfectly the place in the catacombs where her daughter would be buried; sullen, solemn and surrounded by women who lived and died by Fate and suffering. She didn’t know what the girl with the beautiful moth wings would look like, but she could picture her grave and the scars against her body. Her fingers twitched with the memory of broken bones and unattended cuts.

“I wish I could believe it.” Deirdre pulled back, smiling softly. “Thank you for telling me about her. Maybe she’ll---maybe I’ll be able to think about her someday, like she might be real to us. But what I know is that it just...isn’t possible. Pain is...everything that a banshee is. Everything I’m good for.” In her quieter moments, a daughter was a question she asked tentatively to herself. Usually she tried to imagine where she and Morgan would be living then; a cottage in the woods, a grand lakeside mansion? Her fantasy never could move past picking out a location, now it died before it truly began. Her mother said it best: there was no such thing as a better, kinder way. There was just the one way, the way she’d been raised. “I’m not even supposed to be happy like this. I keep wondering when someone will come to take it all away from me.” Like everything else she loved, everything else that brought her peace. Like the moments with her great-great-grandmother, tainted forever by her own words. She leaned back, holding out her arms. “A daughter sounds nice. Our daughter. That sounds nice. Even if it’s a hundred years from now...maybe especially. We’d be together for a hundred years then.” But trying to repeat it to herself didn’t make it sound any more true. She sighed, and leaned further back, gesturing slowly. “Lay down with me, my love? I’ve missed you, I couldn’t sleep much without you with me.”

Morgan let herself be held, murmuring only that Deirdre shouldn’t strain her shoulder, she’d just put her back together. Truth be told, she only had a fraction of sense left to argue the point. Deirdre holding her meant she knew enough of the truth to reach for her, she believed enough to try and feel comfort, to know that everything Morgan had said about love was true. But more than that, Morgan had missed the feel of her body, and her own felt sharp and agitated inside at having to hold back. “I’ll believe in her for the both of us,” she whispered, punctuating her phrases with tender kisses so soft she could only hope they were truly making contact. “You believed in my future when I couldn’t, I can do the same for you. If you want her, I’ll believe in her for us, just as much as I believe in you, Deirdre.”

Morgan trailed her kisses along her banshee’s jaw, curving up to her lips for a chaste kiss that lingered with sentimental longing. “You always have, and always will, be so much more than pain, Deirdre. I know too much about you to be convinced otherwise. And happiness suits you just--” Another kiss, longer than before. “So well. And you’re not going to tell me your smile dimples are some kind of mistake.” Another. “We don’t have to decide or commit to anything tonight, okay? Although a hundred years with you does have a very nice ring to it.” She summoned her warmest smile for Deirdre and ran her fingers along her face and neck where she was harmed the least. If she covered her with enough affection, maybe she could distract Deirdre from the aches that marked her body or dull the memories of her mother’s violence. It was a pipe dream, one she knew too much about to truly believe in it. But she combed her fingers through Deirdre’s hair, just grazing her scalp with her filed down nails and said sweetly, “I thought you’d never ask, babe. Just let me take care of us real quick.” She slid off her lap and to the floor, tidying more floor space for when Deirdre decided she had the energy to try the stairs on her awful legs. She checked the lids on the water and the juice and the pie and fixed up the first aid bin. Then she fished out the fluffy pillows, one for Deirdre’s head, which she tucked in herself, another for her feet, which she silently insisted on with a firm look. There was a blanket, and a book, though Morgan suspected her love was not much longer for the waking world. Her pain and the bitter strength that went into bracing herself against it, told Morgan of their endurance in the corners of her eyes and the hollow droop of her body.

“I feel like this is a real golden opportunity to weasel out a promise to let me take care of you tomorrow,” she said, soft and light to turn Deirdre’s mind away from possible nightmares. “But I’m just going to pout and crawl in beside you and hope you missed me so much, you’ll just give me my way.” She did just that as she spoke, tucking herself in the way she fit best. “At least let me do something til you fall sleep,” she whispered against her neck. “I didn’t even bother going to our bed while you were gone. I was out here, wishing you to come back, thinking of all the songs and poems I’d give you, and how much more we’d talk…”

I’m your mother, I know you best. Deirdre closed her eyes, letting Morgan’s voice wash the rest away. She never felt more loved than she did with her, more understood or more safe. If love truly was something she wasn’t designed for, why didn’t Morgan agree? She opened her eyes and expected an answer, but there was just Morgan assuring her, even though she couldn’t accept the words. No matter how hard she tried, pain thrummed in her body and her mother’s voice jolted across her mind. Her pain wasn’t old, some faint memory of childhood, she’d be tortured all her life—that was her duty and that was the nature of a banshee’s control. But the way Morgan said it, so simple and earnest, she could believe that it must be true somewhere. In another world, maybe. But it felt too far away from her pit of quicksand. She kissed her back, gently as heavy thoughts pushed her mind away, then more urgent as her love swelled back. And she did love Morgan, more than she knew how to say, more than any pain or torture she would face. Enough, even, to silence doubt as it crept in her mind. “I don’t think I knew love at all before you,” she sighed, smiling—dimpled—as Morgan shuffled around. Predictably, it seemed, she shot Morgan a look about the foot pillow just as she shot one back. She laughed to herself and allowed it as she turned her flushed face away. Part of her knew what these simple acts meant, how much they shared with each other and how much more was understood silently and accepted with affection. Another part refused to question her mother’s assertion. In the end, she didn’t want to think about it. All she wanted to do was hold Morgan, and pretend like this was something she could be worthy of, one day. She didn’t need to tell Morgan that she thought the pillows, blanket, books, pie and what not, were unnecessary, she knew she would have done just the same if their roles were reversed. And she knew, more than that, that Morgan understood her. Even the parts Deirdre couldn’t see for herself. “I love you,” she blurted with another smile. “I might not be meant for this, but I’m glad I’m here with you. That I thought to try in the first place. You make me happy, Morgan. Happier than I’ve ever been. A hundred years with you does have a nice ring to it. So does two hundred. Or three.” She grinned, shifting her pulsating body to fit Morgan better, the way they did best. So did four hundred years, or five, or even more than that. She’d find a way, somehow, if Morgan wanted it too. “I won’t say any of this is a mistake, it’s not. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If pain is what I’m meant for, I won’t let it be our legacy. I want to be good to you.”

With Morgan finally in her arms, Deirdre relaxed, holding her as close as her pain-stricken body would allow. She throbbed with ache and fatigue, but held no desire to cut their night short. “While I enjoy your weaseling, there’s none required. Ask and I’ll listen, always. Even if it does involve...” she glanced down and pouted, “foot pillows.” Deirdre turned her head back and pressed a kiss to her girlfriend. “Mhm, tell me about the book you were reading. Did you manage to finish it? Did it get better in the third act like you hoped?” Deirdre closed her eyes again, and for the first time since leaving for Ireland, she did so out of contentment instead of fear. She wasn’t escaping the vision of reality, but letting it lull her along. Though her legacy remained unchanged, and her duty just as heavy, she felt peace again. It didn’t matter how terrible her world was supposed to be, because it never was with Morgan. Here the world was kind and gentle. It believed in her and in bright futures. She was in love, and loved just the same back.

And it was the best, kindest way to be.

#wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #domestic abuse tw #how do i love you #//it's soft #medical blood tw #wickedswriting

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introvertmagick666 · 5 years ago

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Story #2 Welcome to your new home pt 4

The noises from the grand hall, from a cat screeching till a vase getting broken alerted Christine. She took off, leaving the guy name Leviathan though he prefer Levi in the room as she went to the commotion. Arriving at the foyer, Satan was holding a familiar black ball of fur wearing a cute outfit with a bow.

"You imbeciles, you broke the vase!" Satan yelled.

Mammon held a broom and dust pan, ready to sweep it up. "Relax, it can't be that expensive."

"T-That's the vase Lord Diavolo bought as a house warming present for us!" Asmo panicked.

An immense dread filled the room, "Oh no, if Lucifer founds out the vase broke." Mammon gulped.

"We all will be in for it." Satan responded. He tried to calm down the cat in his arms, "Shh, its okay you cute little thing."

Christine cleared her throat, "I see you met Moggie."

Their heads turn, seeing Christine standing there as she walked over to grab her cat out of Satan arms. Moggie was a black cat she rescued as a kitten. She was about seven years old, and boy was she fluffy and fat. Also lazy, and is okay with being carried around. The blue eye cat meowed, purring at her.

"What happened?" She asked.

Satan sighed, "Well, the Little D's dropped your cat off and apparently let her out of her carrier when they were done. Well, Beel tried to pet her with Mammon chasing after to try to pet and maybe sell it till they both scruff me knocking over the vase and me too the floor."

"I wouldn't sell someone cat!" Mammon replied, pointing the broom at Satan.

"I just wanted to pet the cute thing, I didn't mean for it too run off." Beel looked down sad.

"Is that so?" A new male voice spoke.

A crack of lighting and a boom of thunder scared the boys entirely as standing behind the door, with black hair that had a bit of a gray in the front roots stood. His clothing was rather stylish, but his red eyes and brow furrow at the occupants.

"Ahhh!!!" Everyone, except Christine screamed.

He face palmed his forehead, "Honestly, I leave for a couple of hours for a meeting with Lord Diavolo and come home to a vase we have being broken."

Everyone was tensed, Asmo was hiding behind Beel, Mammon was shaking by Satan, Levi stood in front of Christine in case something happened. Christine can tell this guy was the head of the house, and had a rather unique taste in clothes. While, the other brothers wore comfortable clothes, this guy was rather business formal.

"It was his fault, Lucifer!" Mammon pointed at Beel.

"Its your fault two, you scumbag." Asmo yelled.

A chorus of the blaming game was on, before Lucifer silenced the room. There, everyone shut up as they stared at his demon form. Christine was stun, he knew from her Aunt that he was a beautiful man when he was once an angel, though no one seen his demon form much. His four black wings flap, his clothing shifted to a suit and tie with peacock like symbols all over his suit.

"Silence!" He yelled, the house shook.

Everyone trembled, but, being determine to not be afraid Christine approached Lucifer. Hand her cat to Satan, standing in front of the brothers which Beel placed his arm out to shield her.

Christine bowed, "I'm truly sorry for what myself, and my cat had done to your lovely vase. I believe my cat arrival had the brothers excited, and she didn't mean for them to break the vase. My arrival here, also stirred for excitement also."

Lucifer looked at her, did a human just approached him and apologize. They heard him sigh, as he calm down reverting back into his comfortable business formal suit. "Well, this is rather new for me. Please, don't apologize on my brothers behalf."

A gloved finger lifted her chin, raising to meet her eyes. "I must though, because of me and my cat a valuable vase was broken."

She heard him chuckle, "Well, I accept your forgiveness. But, as for my brothers." He smiled, a wicked evil one at Mammon, Satan, and Beel. "You three, in my studies. Now!"

They scurried, leaving her, Asmo, and Levi in the foyer with Lucifer. He laughed, which was uneasy for everyone. After awhile, the storm outside and inside the manor calm down. Christine slipped on a comfy robe, fully being done with a hot bath steeping in rose oil and soap. Moggie slept in her bed, which was propped up by the foot board. She rubbed the feline fur, looking at the papers Lucifer handed her pin on her wall. She won't meet, Lord Diavolo till the day after tomorrow so she can get comfortable in her new surroundings. As, she turned she noticed a bouquet of white and purple flowers in a light blue vase on her dresser. Huh, she thought. She walked over to it, grabbing the card in the pick and opening it, it read:

'Welcome to your new home. Sign by, Lucifer the 1st brother.'

The end for part one of who knows series of the prologue of Christine meeting the brothers, next story is her meeting Lord Diavolo and maybe MC. If you see the hashtag prologue for oc its the prologue and not current stuff otherwise the hashtag current will be there...thank you for reading thus far

#Obey me #Obey me: shall we date #Obey me Oc #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Satan #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me prologue for oc #oc

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caps-lockdown · 5 years ago

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Party Crashers (One Shot)

Steve Rogers x Reader where her friends jokingly send him an invite to his fan mail address for her birthday party. And Tony finds it and forces him to attend the birthday party. Reader being 100% oblivious to all of this until he literally walks in the door! 🤣🤣🤣

Here it is as requested by @katurrade my wonderful friend! Ask and you shall receive lovely! Hope you like it!

Party Crashers One Shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Rating:PG:13 (For jokes, booze, language, the usual) Pretty much all fluff, but there is a slight panic attack (although poorly written I can assure you)

Summary: You reluctantly agree to letting your friends throw you a birthday party, but when they send an invite to your favorite Avenger, how will things pan out?

Words: 5,576

It is AU in the sense that I’m having Tony live through endgame, and obviously Steve didn’t go back in time. Because I can’t move on. I don’t own anything but the reader and her family and friends. And the cat.

(Also the house pictured is NOT MINE. I wish it was, but sadly no. Just used it for imagining the party venue. And the dress isn’t mine either, but I can see myself owning it before the house.)

It’s also in Y/N L/N format. Enjoy!

Party Crashers

Two days before your party

“I’m. Not. Going. Stark. ” Steve Roger’s tone had a sense of finality to it, his body in a tense stance as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the patriotic themed party invitation that Tony was holding. A huge grin plastered on the billionaire’s face.

“Yes. You. Are. Rogers.” The man adjusted his glasses as he brought the invitation to his line of sight. Steve had tried to conceal the bright blue and red card when he got it in his fan mail that morning, but of course Stark being the snoop that he naturally was, he found it and brought it to everyone’s attention later in the Tower. “Look it’ll be good to keep in the fan’s good graces. After everything that’s happened recently, we could use the good PR.”

The blonde man sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. Everything that had happened with Thanos was over and done with, but yet the people were still terrified and on edge. Rightfully so too. He didn’t understand how going to some grown woman’s birthday celebration was going to help, especially when he had never met her. So he thought.

“Did you read the note that was attached? It’s quite cute. Ahem.” Steve rolled his eyes as Tony cleared his throat, developing a shrill feminine voice as he read it aloud to the rest of the room. “Dear Captain America. You don’t know us but our friend Y/N has a birthday coming up and we figured since you both share the same birthday it would be awesome if we invited you! We just got her back and wanted to make up for missing her these last five years. You’re her absolute favorite superhero and she’s totally had a crush on you ever since you saved her life during the Battle of New York. Not that she’ll ever tell you that. Anyways you don’t have to RSVP or anything, and you aren’t required to take pictures. Hell you could show up, say hi, and leave with cake for all we care. Hope to see you!

Stacy and Jim Higgins” The rest of the avengers were laughing at the annoyed blonde’s face when Stark finished.

“They even included a photo!” Bucky and Sam were the first to look at the picture the brunette man was holding, Sam letting out a long winded “Daaaaang” upon seeing the woman’s face. Steve had to admit that Y/N was very attractive, immediately noticing her thousand watt smile as she snuggled what he was assuming to be her pet cat.

“Tony I don’t want to do this..” Steve tried to reason with him, losing all hope when his friend typed the number on the invite into his phone, tossing the taller man the device and making a “go on” motion with his hands as it began to ring.

Rogers was beginning to think of all the ways he could get away with killing the asshole philanthropist when he heard a voice call from the other side of the line. “Hello?”

“Yes...uhm uh is this Stacy?”

“Who’s askin?”

“It’s Steve Rogers. I’m…uh.”

“OH MY GOD NO FUCKING WAY! JIM GUESS WHO’S ON THE HORN? CAPTAIN FUCKING AMERICA!!! No…No I’m not kidding you asshole.” Steve couldn’t help but give a nervous chuckle as the female voice proceeded to call the male voice a bunch of inappropriate names. He heard her take a deep breath and continue. “Sorry bout that Mister America Sir. To what do I owe the pleasure of your phone call?” He shook his head, smiling as the woman made an attempt to sound polite.

“I just wanted to RSVP for Y/N’s birthday party. Fourth of July right?”

“Yea! Five o’clock at the address on the invite! You can show up whenever though, oh man Y/N is going to FREAK OUT! Thank you so so much for doing this! I know you must be really busy. Dealing with everything going on around here.”

“It’s no problem at all…” Tony smacked the man’s arm as he grimaced, biting back a few choice words for his teammate. “I’m looking forward to it.” His comment sounded forced and fake but the woman only giggled, buying his terrible performance.

“Great! I won’t tell her you’re coming, but we can’t wait to see you! Have a good night!”

“Of course, you too.” Steve’s face was void of all emotion as he threw the phone at Tony head on, clearly trying to wipe the satisfied expression off his face.

“There that wasn’t so hard was it Rogers?”

“Go to hell Stark.” The blonde man muttered, the other raising a hand to his chest, feigning hurt feelings.

“Language Cap. You kiss your mother with that mouth? It’s not like I’m going to make you go alone. I want to see this train wreck first hand.” Mentally exhausted from today’s turn of events Steve didn’t even bother with a retort, walking out of the room to head to his bedroom. He was too old for this crap.

Day of Your Party

Lake George, New York

“No, No, I specifically told you Patty NO FIREWORKS! Y/N gets all jumpy and she’s bringing Tigger too…yes, her cat. YOU ARE NOT MESSING THIS UP FOR US PATRICIA! I WILL END YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE WITH A TABLESPOON OF GASOLINE AND A MATCH! Do NOT try me today! Tell your mom I said hello. See you soon!”

Stacy ended the phone call with a huff, her eyes sweeping the large group of people that were attempting to set up last minute decorations for your birthday. Of course they would have it out at their astonishing lake side house in upper New York, away from the city and away from the seas of family reunions at Central Park. Considering the holiday, Stacy was hell bent on making sure no explosions of any kind would be happening today. She wanted everything to be perfect for you, and she wasn’t above murdering your cousin to obtain that goal. She didn’t care if she was only eleven years old.

“You threatening children again honey?” Jim quirked an thick eyebrow at his wife, watching the woman deflate just an inch before she ran off to scream at someone for hanging the wrong colored lantern above one of the large tables. He was fairly certain his wife was going to have a stroke when all of this was over. He could hope anyway. She had been a nightmare planning this whole affair for you, and that was only because you had eventually given in to her demands. It was like negotiating with the government. And he had willing married her.

He laughed as she opted to forcefully take the lantern from his brother Tyler, dragging the chair to another table and hanging it up in its rightful spot. All it took though was one saucy wink in his direction and he could feel his body relax. She was going to be the death of him.

~~A short while later~~

“I hope there isn’t too many people Mel, you know I hate feeling crowded.” You pulled into the long driveway of your best friend’s home. Mel, your sister sat strangely quiet in the passenger seat, lovingly petting a sleeping Tigger in her lap. Before Thanos she was merely a teen, now a high school graduate and looking into medical school. Tigger was barely a year old and just starting to be harness trained, the orange tabby loving the outside and you didn’t have the heart to keep him inside all the time. Now older, he still loved being outside but had gotten pudgy in your years away. You had missed out on so much, but Mel was never this quiet before. In fact, she had pretty much been silent the entire four hour drive to Lake George, only saying a few words here and there as you rambled on. “Why are you being so damn quiet? It’s creeping me out.”

Your sister only smiled at you, her eyes misted over just a bit as she shook her head. “I’ve just missed hearing you talk sis. Five years…” A small sob escaped her when you threw your car into park, reaching over to pull her into a hug.

“Hey now, it was five years for me too alright? We’re together again yeah?” Brushing the tear off her cheek you held back your own when Tigger let out a cranky mewl. That was one thing you would never get tired of. A joyful laugh left your mouth as you began to break away from the embrace, looking into your sister’s brown eyes. “Alright get out of here before you make me ruin my makeup. And just so we’re clear I expect a full blown alien conspiracy lecture tomorrow on the way home.” You jokingly scolded, watching her light up before taking the cat and dashing out of the car. Well at least she had stayed the ball of energy you had remembered.

Stepping out of your vehicle before locking the doors, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the house in front of you.

“I see you guys finished the remodel!” You called out when you entered the foyer.

“Y/N! You look amazing!!” Stacy yelled, coming to give you the biggest hug as if you hadn’t been back for months now and she hadn’t just seen you a couple days ago. “Where did you get that banging dress? Did they have one in purple?!”

You lightly shoved your friend, looking down at your outfit for the day.

“HEY EVERYONE, Y/N’S HERE!” A large amount of screams were heard throughout the house and soon you were being flogged by tons of family and friends. Most of them you had seen since you got back, but all of them at once was kind of suffocating. You tried to hide your nerves as you greeted the seemingly endless crowd of smiling, teary faces.

“Happy birthday Y/N!”

“You look great!”

“You got a boyfriend yet?”

“How’s work?” Holding your temple, you started to struggle to breathe, overwhelmed by all of the questions and closeness. A knock at the door seemed to stop everyone in their tracks, and you smiled gratefully as Stacy swooped in to shoo them all away.

“Let our girl breathe a little! Fuck! Buncha vultures.” Your brunette friend whispered the last part, you giggling as she led you away from the prying eyes and invasive questions. It had been nearly a year since you had come back, it wasn’t as if it was just yesterday or anything. Taking a seat on the back porch, you gladly took the mojito Jim handed to you while Stacy went to get the door, opening it widely and immediately looking confused.

“You…you aren’t Captain America.” She managed to get out as Tony Stark took off his sunglasses, reaching to take her hand and giving her a grand smile.

“Well spotted. I’m not. Tony Stark. I however, was under the assumption he was already here. “

“He’s not with you?” Your friend asked as he went to dart his eyes to his phone, a frown on his features as he went to call the avenger in question, holding a finger up to Stacy.

“He didn’t want to carpool and save the environment. He insisted he took his bike. Maybe he took a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Excuse me.” That was a blatant lie, as Tony had told Steve specifically to take his bike and offer Y/N a ride as an attempt to break the ice. Perhaps the good captain was in fact lost. He listened as the phone rang, clucking his tongue in disapproval as it went to voicemail.

“Sorry Stac, looks like you just have me for right now. I’m more than positive he’ll be here soon. I know he wouldn’t miss something like this. He loves birthday cake, as do I. But you know war heroes, always fashionably late. Shall we?” Your friend could only nod slowly, the information sinking in and Stark taking his cue to head into the large home. “Your home is stunning.”

“Thanks. Y/N should be out back.” Stacy waved him on and Tony took his time enjoying the lovely large windows and high ceilings. He also took the time to send a very strongly worded text message to Steve about punctuality, and the fact he should have beaten Stark here considering Rogers had left nearly two hours before he had.

It didn’t take him long to find you, halfway through your glass and staring out onto the massive backyard. People were playing volley ball, four or five men were manning the grill, women laughing in groups as they caught up. Even surrounded by everyone you still felt a little isolated. Not a soul paying attention to you. Noticing you were almost out of alcohol he backtracked into the house, grabbing a couple fresh minty drinks and heading back out.

“Y/N I presume?” Tony’s voice shook you out of your daydreaming, you jumping at recognizing his face. Iron Man Tony-fucking-Stark was standing just to your right, and you placed a hand over your chest in a poor attempt to steady your heart beat.

“Uhmnh…Yea….Yea that’s me.” You choked out, taking the billionaire’s drink offering and setting it down before coming back up to grasp his hand and giving it a firm shake. “I’m Y/N.”

“You sure?” His jab made you blush, you finishing your first drink before moving your steel straw into the next one. The brunette man smiled, sipping on his own drink and nodding at it in approval.

“What…what are you doing here?” Your question was blurted out at a rapid speed, the skin on your neck tingling again as Tony looked down to meet your eyes. You could tell that he had been waiting on you to ask, as it wasn’t everyday random world saving superheroes showed up to a woman’s birthday party.

“We got an invite from Stacy and her husband, but superhero business would have it that only I could make it tonight. I’m sorry if you were expecting someone taller. With blonde hair and devastating blue eyes.” You sputtered into your glass, giving Tony an incredulous look while he laughed at you. What had your friends mentioned in that invitation?

“No um, this is really wonderful. Thank..thank you for coming.” You nearly squeaked, trying to guzzle down the rest of your drink and standing from your chair. Jim signaled it was time to eat, Stacy starting to hand people red, white, and blue plates and napkins while the masses began to form a line for food. “I guess that’s our cue. Everyone will be really excited to meet you. And in case I don’t get the chance, thank you. Ya know, for saving the world.”

“All in a day’s work Y/N. Let’s get some grub, I’m starving.” You laughed as Tony extended his arm, helping you down the stairs into the party space, people offering him thanks and asking for pictures once they caught on to who he was. “No no, I’m just here for the free food and Y/N’s birthday cake. But maybe we’ll take a few photos after yeah?”

The two of you took a seat at the large long picnic table after piling your plates with ribs, potato salad, corn on the cob, and other fourth of July staples. Tony kept everyone laughing, telling stories to you and the twenty four other people that were there to celebrate. You secretly wished that you could be this outgoing, most of the time shying away from social interaction and people altogether. It would certainly help you and your lackluster personal life.

After everyone was on the brink of a food coma, Tony suggested the game of charades to help burn off some of the food to make room for cake. With it being after seven, some of the guests opted to leave for the evening, wishing you well and stealing a couple of photos with Tony before exiting. None of them seemed to notice the motorcycle parked alongside the driveway.

Steve’s eyes watched with amusement as you attempted to use your cat to imitate a machine gun, shouting Scarface quotes and Tony being the first to answer correctly. His breath was taken away by how beautiful you were in person, the picture being five years older after all. He loved the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, and how your smiles always looked warm and inviting, even when you were clearly not doing the best at charades. Steeling his nerve he climbed off his bike, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms onto his pants and heading up to the front door of the large home. He took in a deep breath and knocked, staring into the rich oak and waiting.

“I’ll get it!” You shouted, hopping off the couch and dodging popcorn Mel was throwing at you along the way. You stuck your tongue out playfully, turning to open the door and finding yourself face to face with freedom in the flesh.

“Happy birthday Y/N.” His stunning blue eyes and even more attractive smile was too much for you and the room began to spin. “I’m Steve.”

You took his hand, suddenly feeling really light headed. His expression changed to one of concern as you took a few fumbling steps back, his strong arm instinctively reaching out to grip your waist and steady you.

“Hey you’re alright. I’ve got you.” His words had your brain going into overdrive, your mind flooding with the memory of the only other time you had heard him say that.

~May 4th, 2012~

“Why the hell should I take orders from you?!”

You heard the cop ask the man in the blue suit, you hiding behind a nearby car as you watched him interact with the officer, chaos erupting throughout the city. The entire office you worked in had evacuated in a panic, but you were one of the last ones to leave, narrowly escaping death a few times over just getting out of the building. Your eyes were glued to the man, never seeing him before in your life. He was extremely handsome from what you could tell, and clearly he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You watched as he proceeded to defeat a few of the strange creatures easily, and you couldn’t help but let out a raspy laugh as the officer quickly changed his tune.

“I need men in those buildings. Lead the people down and away from the streets. We’re gonna set up a perimeter all the way down to 39th street.” He had said the last bit into his radio, walking away and you gladly decided it was time to get your ass out of there. Standing up and headed towards the street you began running towards the nearest subway entrance. Your heart was hammering in your throat and you were sure you would have to throw out your heels and now ripped to hell dress when this was over. Turning a corner you let out a blood curdling scream as a truck came barreling through the air, you being directly in its way.

You shut your eyes and awaited death, but it never came. Instead you were grabbed roughly and tucked in between a set of buildings, a shriek leaving your lungs as you watched the truck go flying by. Your hands shot to cover your face as your panicked sobs came out before you could stop them, realizing you were alive.

“Hey you’re alright, I’ve got you.” Your hands were brought down from your face and you looked up to see the hero in blue staring intently at you, brushing some of your now loosened hair away from your face. You were certain your makeup was smeared along with dirt and dust from all of the debris floating around the city, but he only continued staring into your eyes.

“Boy do you ever.” Was all you could get out, a small smile lighting up the mystery man’s features as he grabbed your hand, looking into the street before nodding to you.

“Good. Now let’s get you to safety Doll.” You swooned and fought to keep up with the man as he started jogging back into the street, careful to help you dodge and duck the ugly looking creatures along the way. Stopping at the subway entrance he gave you a once over, making sure you weren’t bleeding as you fought a heart attack from all the cardio today had put you through. His hands on your shoulders weren’t helping things.

“You get down there and you stay safe alright miss?” You could only nod like an moron again, watching him turn to walk away.

“Hey wait!” He turned around at your newly found voice, you pointing to an alley that wasn’t under attack. “You’ll get to where you’re going faster if you take that way. It’ll lead you back to where you saved me.”

He cracked a smile, appreciating your kindness as he took off. You got all the way down the stairs before realizing you never got to thank him. Or learn his stupid name.

~Now~

“Boy do you ever.” Your words came out in a whisper, his gaze turning to one of calculation as you smiled. There was no way he could have remembered saving you. He has saved thousands, millions of people in the past, and you weren’t that memorable.

“You…you were the woman I saved from the flying truck..weren’t you?” His voice was soft as he whispered back. You nodded with wide eyes, taking note how his arm hadn’t detached itself from your waist yet. Not that you minded.

“You remember me?” You stuttered out, trying to keep your shocked nerves at bay.

“Doll I couldn’t forget you even if I tried. Those directions saved my skin that day. I’m glad to see you survived.”

“Because of you! I didn’t even know trucks could fly.” Your comment made him laugh out loud, his arm leaving your waist only to cover his stomach as he filled the house up with joy. Everyone else laughed nervously, clearly not having heard the conversation between you two and therefore not having the slightest idea what was so funny.

“I see you cut your hair, your picture doesn’t do you justice you know.”His normal voice and remark set your face on fire, you whipping your head to look at your best friend, who only sheepishly shrugged and avoided making eye contact with you. “But I like it. Suits you.” Receiving another compliment from the blonde had you grinning like a goofball.

“Thank you….and uh thanks, for saving my life all of those years ago. I never got the chance to do it back then.” You rambled, before widening your eyes again and taking a breath. “And thanks for helping bring back everyone from the decimation too! I mean I was part of that and I know everyone is really grateful and all.” Finishing your long winded spiel you began studying the designs in the hard cherry wood floor, embarrassed at how the Captain only continued to chuckle at you.

“You’re welcome…and you’re welcome.” He beamed at you, Tony loudly coughing to bring the two of you out of whatever bubble you seemed to be in together.

“This is ADORABLE to watch. Seriously. But uh, I was promised cake and I’m not leaving until I get some.” Stark whined, your friends all agreeing before wandering into the kitchen, you motioning for Steve to follow. Stacy smiled warmly at you as she took the glad cake topper off, your mouth watering at the beautiful cake she had made. It was three layers, all different swirls of red white and blue adorning it along with simple gold stars.

“Oh Stac…it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Hey that means we can sing happy birthday to both of you!” Jim clapped Steve on the back, shaking his hand as he went to light the one huge candle that sat on top of the cake.

“As long as you don’t sing Jim I think our ears will be okay.” Mel quipped, everyone laughing as they began singing to the two of you. Your eyes welled up with tears, looking at all of the faces of people you honestly weren’t sure you’d ever see again. And two of the people that helped make that happen were here as well. How about that. Once everyone had a piece of cake you all took to sitting outside on the back porch again, watching the summer sun begin to set off in the distance. It reflected off the lake beautifully, the reds and oranges in the sky extending over the water.

“I’ve missed how peaceful it is out here Stacy. You and Jim have an absolute paradise out here.” Your friends nodded, both too busy with cake to really take in the splendor.

“I think this cake is paradise.” Tony muffled out, mouth full of the sugary treat, Steve’s shaking of his head had you and Mel giggling into your forks. “You have to get me the recipe so my wife can make it. Or we can just pay you to make it.”

“Anything for one of the guys who saved the world. I’ll write it down for ya.” Stacy’s smirk made you chuckle, her fingers snaking out to take your clean plate from you. Walking back into the kitchen, the now very happy Stark following her, Mel sighed as she looked at her watch.

“It’s not even ten yet! What are we going to do!?” Her complaint reminded you how much younger she actually was, you perfectly fine with calling it a night. Your ears perked up at the sound of soft jazz music beginning to pour out of the speakers located on the corner of the deck, Jim turning on the assortment of lanterns. The whole back yard was aglow with twinkling lights and you started to subconsciously sway to the beat. Steve’s jaw working as he began to walk over to you, shrugging out of the brown leather jacket he had been wearing and setting on a chair.

“Well I know what Y/N and I are going to do.” Steve stuck his hand out to you, you smiling timidly before reaching yours to grasp his. “Care to dance, Doll?”

“Well I’m not going to say no.” He laughed at that, bringing you over to the side of the deck that was serving as a makeshift dance floor, Jim and Stacy following your lead when she returned from the kitchen. You got a chance to take in his outfit, nice gray slacks and a simple blue button up shirt rolled up at the elbows. It wasn’t much but he didn’t need much when he looked like he had been carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself.

“I have to admit, I don’t have that much practice with dancing.” The blonde admitted, your heart fluttering as a flush crept over his face. You squeezed his hand reassuringly as he dropped his other one to sit on high on your waist.

“Is the great Captain America flustered right now?” You giggled, allowing him to spin you around. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. But for the record…” You gingerly took his hand at your waist, lowering it a little to where it sat just above your hip. “Your hand will be a lot more comfortable here. And you should relax some. I don’t bite.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, you both swaying to the music in a comfortable silence as it played on, Jim making sure the songs stayed slow so you wouldn’t part ways so quickly. Eventually you began making small talk, asking him about his life and interests, Steve obviously very interested in what you had been up to since Thanos’ defeat. You found him extremely easy to talk to, your jokes making him laugh, his eyes crinkling with joy as the time passed.

“So we might as well start making wedding invitations now.” Mel uttered to Tony when he curiously eyed the Captain, your sister and Stark looking to each other before chuckling. “She’s not going to let him go now that they’ve met officially.”

“That’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing. About him. Maybe he’ll find that life I told him to get.” Mel laughed at the brunette, both of them nodding to the other couple to vacate the dance floor. Stacy couldn’t help the sly smile as you and Steve continued to talk, so enamored in each other you didn’t notice everyone else leaving the back yard to give you some privacy. Ten minutes later the next song came to a close, Steve attempting to lower you into a small dip that made your knees weak in more ways than one.

“Thanks for the dance Y/N.”

“Dances Mister Rogers, and back at you. They were lovely. Now where did everyone…. “ You began to look around, a slight familiar panic setting in as your eyes searched for your friends and the billionaire. You sighed in exasperation as you watched them scatter. Failing miserably at making themselves look busy and like they hadn’t been watching you two. “Go.”

“I’m sure they mean well.” Steve’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your own.

“Sure yea. They’re probably in there planning our first date.”

“Our first date?” You went to cover your face with your hands, a high pitch squeak coming out when you came to terms with the fact you had said that out loud.

“OhmygodI’msososorry” You rushed out, continuing to hide your face as you were certain you were the brightest shade of red in the rainbow.

“Y/N it’s alright…”

“No it’s not. You’re out there saving the world, and I’m sure that coming to this dumb party my exhausting friends probably blackmailed you into was the last thing on your to do list. And then I have to go and ruin a perfectly nice moment by opening my big mouth and asking you out when knowing my luck you’re already dating some stunning Amazonian woman who can cook and makes you stupid happy!” Anger boiled in your veins as the blonde could only stare at you, partially concerned you might combust, and partially endeared that you clearly had a big crush on him.

“For the record, Tony made me come tonight. But you’re the sole reason I’ve stayed.” Steve took your clenched hand, giving it a soft squeeze and the noise that died in the back of your throat couldn’t have been remotely human. “And secondly, I’m single, and extremely flattered. But I’m afraid there’s a small problem.”

“You’re afraid I’m crazy and will probably burn down your house if you ignore me for too long?” He blinked at you, taking a moment to let that sentence sink in before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t know if you’re a cup of coffee or dinner and a movie kind of girl. “ His grin had you seeing fireworks and holy star spangled banner Steve Rogers was asking you out! Quickly jolting out of your over-excitement you managed a coy giggle, you removing your hand from his before placing it on his right cheek. Bringing yourself up to your tiptoes you allowed your lips to lightly kiss his left cheek, feeling the warmth radiate through his skin upon contact.

“Well in your case Steve, I’m both. Dinner tomorrow night when I get back into town?”

His eyes didn’t leave yours, you sliding your hand away only to have him take it again. Your heart raced as he placed a chaste kiss on your knuckle, grinning at you like a love struck puppy.

“I’ll pick you up on the bike at seven o clock. Hope you like Italian.”

“I do.” You nodded, you immediately missing his hand when he let it go.

“Great, then it’s a date.”

“So it is.” You bit back a girlish scream internally as he began to walk away, before turning around and bashfully asking for your phone number. You typed it into his phone, laughing the entire time. Everyone gathered outside for a quick photo with the two Avengers, Steve staying right next to you, a hand on your waist and the two of you looking nothing short of smitten with each other. You gave both of them a quick hug goodbye, Tony’s being longer because he complained about you not dancing with him at all and he deserved better treatment because he was there first.

“Goodnight Y/N. Happy Birthday.” You smiled at the blonde, giggling as Tony had to physically grab the back of Steve’s jacket to pull him out of the doorway.

“Happy birthday Steve. See you tomorrow.” You waved them on, leaning against the frame as the two men became shapes in the dark. It wasn’t long after you heard the rumble of a motorcycle and a car start up, headlights pulling down the road as they drove off.

“I’m sorry they had to go.” Mel patted your shoulder as you shut the door, locking the bolt and turning off the porch light. You smiled at your sister saucily, throwing her a wink after she shut the blinds behind the couch.

“Me too, but god did I love watching him leave.”

Her response was a pillow. To your face.

The End

Tag List: @kaytizzle @giggleberts @cuffski

#steve rogers x reader #the avengers #marvel #fanfic #fluff #captain america #fanfiction

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rainythefox · 5 years ago

Text

Nightfall (Ch.9)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 9: The Goddaughter

Claire couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. The new, two-story brick home in the fancy neighborhood was just as quiet and expensive as the other homes on the block on this chilly morning, only Claire knew the evil inside this one. She was just here the other day, breaking in to try and find something to expose Wesker, and ended up nearly being ripped to shreds by his guard dog instead. She wasn’t here to break in this time. Oddly enough, as Claire stepped up to the front door and rang the doorbell, she felt she would’ve preferred dealing with the attacking Doberman over the corrupt STARS Captain.

She heard Odin bark once, but it was faint and sounded like it had happened on the upper floor. Still, she flinched from the awful memories of snapping jaws inches from her face.

William had stopped by yesterday evening, relaying a message from Wesker to meet him at his house after Chris was at work. Claire let her brother take his truck because Jill was off of work today and just gave the excuse that she would most likely stay home. When in reality, she was about to go see what his boss wanted with her.

William wasn’t able to give her anymore information when he gave her the message and left. And that created a whole new problem. Chris had spotted William leaving.

Claire could tell her brother was starting to grow suspicious. Between her behavior and seeing William, Chris was beginning to realize something was amiss. He had good instincts; it was what made him a good cop. She had to figure out a way to keep him far off the trail, or they would both be dead - courteous of her brother’s double-dealing supervisor.

Ignoring the nippy wind, wondering if Ada had found out anything yet, the door opened, making her heart rate spike considerably. Here goes nothing...

She glared at Wesker when he greeted her with his usual sneer, magnified by his lack of shades, his icy-grey eyes, bewitching and dangerous, a stopping force all on their own. “Ms. Redfield, nice of you to drop by on this lovely morning."

“It's not by choice,” she grumbled and pushed by him when he gestured for her to come inside. “What do you want?”

She looked around the foyer and living room, tense from having her back to him as he shut the door. He didn’t answer right away, but she nearly leapt out of her skin when his hands brushed up her back, his voice purring in her ear.

“From you, dear heart? Where to even begin?”

He took her jacket off of her and hung it up. Still reeling from his words, Claire was stiff as a board as he wrapped his strong arm around her lower back and escorted her further inside. Some kind of charged electricity sparked under her skin from the contact. She finally got a grip on herself, ignoring her stomach as it flipped in a way she would rather not admit. The younger Redfield sibling moved away from him and went over to the den area, facing him and keeping her back to a couch.

“William gave me a message to meet you here after Chris was gone. He didn’t say why.”

“That’s because I never told him why.”

Wesker wore more formal, black clothes like she saw him wearing in NEST the other day. She hated that she found him even more attractive in such attire. The college student kept herself from gawking, instead she folded her arms and gave him a dirty look. “Well?”

He instantly reacted to her animosity with a dark smirk, as though her fire sparked something within him. Claire was starting to get the feeling that Wesker enjoyed her temper and defiance, as if he got some sort of sick gratification from it. It aggravated her even more, but at the same time she knew she couldn’t let him goad her. It’s what he wanted.

And though Claire had kept her eyes from wandering over Wesker’s chic outfit and toned body, he didn’t even try and hide his roaming eyes. “You look quite lovely today, Claire.”

Again with her first name. There was that light, fluttering sensation in her chest again. Claire hadn’t realized it at first, but she had backed up right into the sofa when Wesker took a couple of steps in her direction. Stop messing with me, you asshole!

Claire opened her mouth, about to give him a slew of colorful, unladylike words, when the Doberman trotted down the stairs into the den, tags jingling on his chain collar. Odin gave her one short look before his snout upturned towards the stairs, alert, his docked tail wagging before he sat on his haunches.

Something else came down the stairs a bit slower, emerging into the den with soft steps. The Redfield girl gasped, not at all expecting a child. The little girl spotted Claire staring and dashed the rest of the way to Wesker, using him as cover.

The girl peeked from behind him, gripping his shirt tight. She had to be around nine or ten years old, her blonde hair in a messy bun, loose strands hanging around her cute face. Her blue eyes were curious but shy. She wore jeans and a light blue shirt and white vest. She didn’t have shoes on, only socks, and there was a golden pendant necklace around her neck.

Claire’s inner motherly instincts kicked right in. The girl was precious and Claire had no clue why she was in a place like this, hiding behind a man like Albert Wesker as though he was her guardian.

She slightly bent over, smiling, and gently waved. “Hello there.”

Her soft greeting delighted the bashful girl and she came out a little further, although still kept halfway behind Wesker, gripping his clothes like a lifeline. “Hi!”

Claire glared at Wesker. “Kidnapping children now?”

“Charming,” he mocked. “She’s my goddaughter. Sherry, where are your manners?”

The name instantly clicked, and Claire remembered. So this is William and Annette’s daughter? She’s adorable!

“Oh, right…” the little girl mumbled. She smiled at Claire again. “I’m Sherry. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Claire gave her a big, friendly smile in return. “I’m Claire. It’s nice to meet you too, Sherry.”

Sherry blushed, slightly retreating behind Wesker. “I like your name!” She looked up at the tall, silent man she was using as a shield. “She’s really pretty, Uncle Albert!”

Wesker’s eyes were locked onto Claire, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “She is, isn’t she?”

Claire shivered but quickly focused back on the girl. There was a strange, hushed excitement to Sherry that she couldn’t quite understand. It was as if she was shy, but, at the same time, was really intrigued by Claire. The younger Redfield felt a peculiar, warming connection right away with the child…as though their fates were somehow connected.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

Claire’s mind blew a gasket, horrified at the girl’s implication. “W-what?! No!”

She was about to unleash onto this little girl what kind of a monster she was hiding behind, but then quickly bit her tongue. Sherry was a child. There was no way she could even begin to understand. She looked at her godparent as though she idolized him. Wesker seemed to have everyone fooled. Everyone thought he was a good man, until, of course, they stumbled upon him in the woods blowing a man’s head off.

Claire sighed, took a deep breath, and faked a smile. “No, sweetie. It’s not like that.” She gave Wesker a hard look. “And it’s never going to happen.”

Wesker smirked, his eyes entrapping her, as though he knew something she didn’t. Claire forced herself to look away, feeling awfully jittery for a moment.

“Oh…I was hoping you would become my aunt and we could play.”

Claire’s forced smile derailed. She wasn’t sure what to think about that. Wesker’s goddaughter peeked halfway out from behind him, curious yet insecure. Claire had a feeling the little girl didn’t have many friends and didn’t get much attention from her family, if her parents and Wesker were anything to go by.

Claire stooped to Sherry’s level, smiling. “We don’t need to be related to play. How about being friends instead?” She extended her hand.

Sherry came out a tad bit further, eyeing Claire and her offered hand. She glanced up at her guardian, unsure. Finally, Wesker stepped out of the way. The girl froze, watching him, as if afraid her wall was gone to leave her out in the open unprotected. Wesker patted her head and gently pushed her closer to Claire.

“Go ahead. She doesn’t bite, Sherry.”

As if that was the only reassurance she needed, the young girl reached out and took Claire’s hand, beaming. They shook hands. Their moment was soon ruined by the phone as it started ringing on the stand on one of the end tables. Sherry’s smile disappeared and soon became disheartened, gazing up at Wesker. The STARS Captain checked his watch with a scowl and moved towards the phone. As he passed by the girls, he petted Sherry’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked, watching as Wesker answered the phone.

Sherry sighed. “Daddy. He’s running late again. Or got held up and can’t come get me. I thought you were him when I heard the doorbell, even though he usually just walks in.”

Claire frowned. “Well, what about your mom?”

“She’s busy all the time, too. Like Daddy. They work at Umbrella and are making a new medicine to help people…but they work all the time and I don’t get to spend much time with them.”

At this point, Claire wasn’t even sure if William and Annette were working on any kind of medicine at all, let alone anything that could help people. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

Wesker’s goddaughter shrugged with a weak smile. “It’s okay. Uncle Albert helps take care of me when he isn’t busy. He comes and gets me from school when my parents forget. He sometimes helps them make new medicine too, but mostly he just keeps me, Daddy, and Mommy safe and protects the city.”

You poor, naive little girl…if only you knew…

Then Sherry’s words clicked and she looked at the Birkins’ daughter. “Wait, Wesker makes medicine, too?”

Sherry nodded. “Yeah. He’s really, really smart! Him and Daddy are two of the best doctors working for Umbrella…as Daddy likes to brag.”

Claire logged it away. It was definitely something she could use in digging up dirt on Wesker. There was more than his corruption as an officer of the law. He was also in the same shady business as William and Annette, whatever Umbrella had to do with it. She wondered exactly how many jobs he had…

“He really likes you.”

Claire shook from her thoughts and stared at Sherry’s cute, curious face. “I could tell when he let you in. You look cute together!” The girl suddenly gasped, cupping her cheeks. “Your babies would be so adorable! I could be like a big sister to them! And we could play together!”

The college student almost fell over backwards from the shock of Sherry jubilating at the idea of her having any sort of physical relationship with her “uncle”, let alone having offspring together. Her stomach jerked queasily. Despite her disgust, Claire had to give Sherry props for being so easily excited. She must’ve gotten it from her equally whimsical father.

Ah, to be that innocent again. Claire weakly smiled, trying to avoid that subject with the girl. She had come to the conclusion that Wesker liking anyone was a) highly unlikely and b) not a good thing in general, even if the Birkins told her otherwise.

She decided to see what else Sherry could inform her about Wesker. “So uh, what else does he do? Besides make medicine and protect the city?”

Claire had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at such a ridiculous notion. The only thing Albert Wesker protected was himself and his own interests, no matter how many innocent people got in the way.

Sherry pursed her lips in thought. “Hmm...he does a lot of things. He does some kind of pest control, I think? Daddy said he got rid of a big rat a few days ago. Mommy says that Uncle Albert is a workaholic like they are. But I don’t know...seems like I see him more than them sometimes.”

Human pest control, sweetie. You poor thing...doesn’t sound like your parents deserve any Parent of the Year awards!

She’d like to give William and Annette a piece of her mind the next time she saw them. Sherry was so sweet and well-mannered for someone half-raised by self-absorbed parents and half-raised by a manipulative psychopath.

Odin trotted over, nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He licked Sherry’s face, making her giggle. She hugged the Doberman. “This is Odin. He’s Uncle Albert’s dog and I love him. We’re best friends!”

“Yeah...we’re well acquainted. Aren't we, boy?” Claire replied, reminded of how the dog almost tore her throat out. Sherry would never know it, but her backpack had saved Claire’s life the other day.

Odin snorted in response, but showed no signs of aggression, sitting next to Sherry and yawning.

They heard the phone click on the receiver. Sherry looked to Wesker expectantly as he returned to them. Claire remained kneeled in front of the girl, tensing as the corrupt STARS Captain came up behind her.

“Your mother is on her way, Sherry. You should go upstairs and get your things.”

Sherry frowned. “But Daddy promised he would take me this time.”

Wesker sighed. “I know he did, darling. Go on, now.”

“Yes, sir.” Sherry gave one last dispirited smile to Claire and left back upstairs. Odin followed right behind her.

Claire stood, watching the girl depart before turning to Wesker. There was a strange look in his eyes as they followed Sherry up the stairs, but Claire couldn’t read Wesker like William could, and so she was lost on what it could be.

He finally looked at her, lips quirking. “Precious, isn’t she?”

“You seriously don’t seem the type to like kids.”

“I don’t,” Wesker admitted. “But Sherry is the exception.”

Claire snorted. “Exception or not, you shouldn’t have kids let alone be a godparent to someone else’s. Not sure what William was thinking.”

Wesker softly chuckled. “I have no intentions...although,” he looked her over again with a dark, suggestive leer. “With the right partner, perhaps I would change my mind.”

It was a deliberate jab to provoke her. Claire glared at him, ignoring her heart that flailed madly in her rib cage after her stomach did a low pitch and rolled. The younger Redfield refused to take the bait, biting her tongue. She didn’t trust how her body reacted to his words at all.

“Whatever. Sherry’s way too sweet to be in the Birkins’ care or yours. She deserves better.”

“She does deserve better.”

Claire was surprised by his words, his eyes lingering on the staircase for a moment before he turned and slightly glared at her. “But life never goes how we expect it to, does it, dear heart?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

She wished her life had just stayed the same, instead of getting caught in this spider web of conspiracy, deception, and blackmail.

Wesker took her necklace into his fingers, rubbing his thumb along the silver feather pendant and turquoise stone. His eyes found hers, and he squeezed the pendant shut in his hand, tugging her towards him using the small chain. So close, Claire's hands braced his solid chest to give her a small buffer.

“And that is why I make sure I hold all the cards and have complete control over my fate. I am no longer the ruled, I am the ruler.” Wesker dipped to whisper in her ear. “And you, dear heart, will help me get even more power.”

His lips grazed her temple as he pulled back, still clenching the necklace and keeping her close. The chill that came over her was more thrilling than she wanted to admit, and according to Wesker’s dark smirk he had sensed it too. Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me?

The doorbell chimed. Claire’s heart nearly burst, relieved in the interruption because she was convinced something was about to happen.

Sherry bounded down the stairs with a bag, the Doberman still tailing her. She paused at the bottom step, noticing Wesker and Claire’s close proximity.

“Did you get everything, darling?” Wesker asked, eyes not leaving Claire’s.

Claire was confused until she heard the soft voice and spotted Sherry coming back into the den. “Yes, Uncle Albert.”

“Good. Get your shoes on.”

Wesker stepped away from Claire, his fingers brushing her collarbone when he let her necklace go. He went to the door and answered it. Annette entered the house, looking mostly the same from when Claire saw her last, except maybe more tired. The older woman paused when she noticed Claire, surprised, but she contained it and shot a suspicious glare to Wesker’s back.

Sherry pulled on her boots after retrieving them from the foyer. She grinned at her mother. “Hi Mommy!”

Annette, distracted, looked between Wesker and Claire, and that made the college student even more uncomfortable. She then presented her daughter with a listless smile.

“Did you behave for Albert?”

“Yes, I did.”

Annette motioned to Claire with the same smile, though with added wariness. “Claire...It’s, uhh, good to see you again.”

In other words she was surprised Claire was still alive. Claire didn’t blame her, although that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. “You too, Annette. You’re daughter is very sweet.”

“Oh, right. Yes...she is.” Annette turned to her daughter just as she cinched the last strap on her boots. “Come along, Sherry. We need to go.”

Sherry got up and shouldered her bag. “All set!”

Annette looked relieved. “Good. Albert, thank you. William will stop by later, assuming he still isn’t at the estate in that ridiculous meeting. Claire...take care. Sherry, let’s go.”

The little girl frowned, glancing between her mother’s retreating back and Wesker and Claire. She sighed, trudging along behind Annette but soon paused and looked back at them.

“Bye, Uncle Albert. Bye, Claire. It was nice meeting you. I hope I get to see you again.”

That hit Claire right in the feels, and she felt torn over it. She wanted away from Wesker, the Birkins, and whatever they were a part of. She wanted her life back to normal, meaning no Sherry. But on the other hand, there was something about the young girl that Claire was drawn to. She wanted to see Sherry again also.

Claire smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again real soon. Take care, Sherry.”

The girl was ecstatic at that, looking the happiest Claire had seen her yet. Annette hollered at her from the door.

“She’s a keeper, Uncle Albert!” Sherry added cheekily before joining her mother.

Claire flushed, paralyzed. Sherry giggled and hugged Odin before leaving with Annette. Once that front door shut, trapping her alone with Albert Wesker, he turned to her with a conceited and, dare she infer, sensual smirk. Her nerves turned to ice, although she suddenly felt feverish.

“I agree, Sherry. She is a keeper.”

Chris, Forest, Brad, Joseph, and Enrico walked back to the STARS office. Chris yawned. It was still early in the morning, but their day had commenced in chaos, having had two different emergencies to deal with. A freeway accident with a tipped over bus and an active shooter in southern Arklay County. None of them had even gotten their morning coffee in them yet.

“Good work, boys. Maybe we can finally take a breather,” Enrico said.

Brad rubbed his back. “Good. I need one.”

Joseph snickered. “What’s wrong, Chickenheart? Your ass still hurting where you busted it on the ice goin’ for cover?”

“Very funny, Joe.”

Forest wrapped his muscular arm around Brad’s neck and scrubbed his knuckles hard into his scalp. “Aw, we’re just fuckin’ with ya, Vickers. You did good!”

Try as he might, Brad couldn’t escape the taller, stronger Bravo member. Finally, Forest let go and dodged a swipe from Brad with a chuckle. The flustered Alpha pilot straightened his yellow vest with a glare to Forest and Joseph. Chris grabbed them both and banged their heads together.

“Knock it off, you dicks,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks, Redfield,” Enrico huffed and gave Frost and Speyer a mild glare. “You two knuckleheads have already given me a damn headache.”

They entered the STARS Office. Richard waved at them from his desk where he filled out a report on his computer.

“Aiken, anymore calls?” Enrico asked.

“No, sir. Been quiet.”

“Good.” Enrico pointed at Joseph. “Frost, go make some coffee and see if there’s anything left from the breakfast bar.”

Joseph groaned. “Why am I always the errand boy?”

“Because you get on my nerves and Wesker’s nerves, that’s why. Now go.”

“You couldn’t tell me while we were downstairs closer to the break room?”

“Nope.”

Joseph muttered under his breath and started to leave the office.

Forest hollered at him just as he sat down at his desk. “Make it extra strong, errand boy!”

Joseph flipped him off as he slipped out the door, earning him a chuckle from his Bravo friend. Brad took a seat next to Richard and Chris went to his own desk. He frowned at the empty desk beside him. Jill’s hat sat on her desk as well as a photo of her Golden Retriever, Bella. It was rare for them to have different days off, but this time of year always had Alpha and Bravo Team’s schedules mixed up.

Before he got busy and forgot again, he opened up the drawer to her desk and dropped a bag of her favorite candy inside. He closed it and signed into his computer. It was strangely quiet in the STARS office. Enrico had locked himself away in Wesker’s office and without Joseph around, the rest of them were quietly doing their work. It was strange to have Wesker, Barry, and Jill missing all in one shift. Kenneth and Edward wouldn’t be in until later.

Brad must’ve read Chris’s mind. “It feels like something’s missing…it’s too quiet.”

Forest snorted. “Course it is! We don’t have Chris and Jill yakking away behind us, no Barry laughing at his own jokes, and no Wesker scolding Frost or barking orders. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. Won’t be long before Marini gets on our asses again.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “As if you enjoy anything of the sort, Forest.”

“Chris does seem like a sad puppy without Jill around,” Richard noted.

The sharpshooter glared at them. “I’m working. What are you guys doing, exactly?”

He ignored their laughs and entered the license plate number that was on the BMW that he saw at his house yesterday. As the information pulled up, Joseph returned and announced that the coffee was brewing. Forest mumbled something about the STARS office needing to replace the coffee pot that Edward accidentally broke a couple weeks ago and left downstairs to go get some. If anyone left with Forest, Chris didn’t notice, too absorbed in the profile the license plate brought up.

Vehicle is a 1997 BMW M3…everything is up to date…Registered to William Birkin of Raccoon City, Colorado. Chris did a separate search for William Birkin in their database. Not much came up. Age 35. Married. Type O blood. Height: 5’10’’, Weight: 147lbs. Blond hair, blue eyes. Licensed under the Umbrella Corporation as a medical researcher. No records, no flags.

There was a picture on profile, looking to be a few years old, but it was definitely him. He didn’t look threatening, but something just didn’t sit right with Chris. He wondered how Claire could know this man. Surely she wasn’t seeing him romantically as he was married. Claire wasn’t like that. Maybe she didn’t know?

It might not even be like that…don’t jump to conclusions. Jill’s right…this could all be harmless. Maybe he’s just a friend.

Still…he did not like the feeling in his gut looking at the man’s seemingly innocent picture. It was hard to decide if it was his innate instincts as a cop or his overprotective devotion as a big brother. Unfortunately, Chris couldn’t do much else beside keep a closer eye on his sister and see if anything else came on his radar. Claire was still acting strange…hiding something. He was sure this man had something to do with it. Sighing, he closed the profile and got back to his other work. He remained distracted for the rest of the morning.

Before leaving for lunch, Chris had found Ralph Hendricks again and asked his neighbor and fellow brother-in-uniform to keep an eye out for anything else unusual at his house, especially if it involved that silver BMW and the man that drove it. Ralph, sensing Chris’s worry, assured him he would do what he could. That made the older Redfield feel better and drove home to enjoy some lunch with his sister.

He unlocked the door and went inside. Chris usually took his lunch with Jill, and so he was sure Claire would be surprised. The house was warm, but he didn’t see her when he came inside. The television wasn’t on, it was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Sis, you here?” When there came no answer, he hollered again with a frown. “Claire?”

He checked the house. She was gone. Trying to remain calm, Chris thought where she could have gone without the truck. He searched for a note but found none. He had to rationalize this. Maybe a friend came and picked her up...

Or maybe that guy in the BMW?

Chris paced, knowing he was overreacting. He couldn’t call his STARS teammates in to help him look for her once more, especially since last time it turned out she had been just fine. Barry was out of town with Robert, and Wesker would probably wring his neck if he called him on his day off again. He decided that calling Jill would be best. She would talk him down and help him to clear his head.

He picked up the phone with a heavy sigh. If only he could get rid of the terrible feeling in his gut. You have to quit doing this…Claire’s an adult. She’s out there living her life. And you cannot be there to protect her all the time. She knows how to take care of herself. She’s probably just out there having fun. Quit worrying!

Claire was not having fun. This was torture. The silence ate at her, the small, confined space that smelled of leather and his cologne was dizzying. Every nerve under her skin thrummed, from what she didn’t know. Demanding her to move, to escape, to fight. Or perhaps respond to a darker urge she refused to acknowledge, pushed to the farthest corner of her mind.

“You’re more restless than William, and that’s saying something.”

The college student fell out of her thoughts, not realizing she had been so fidgety in the passenger seat of Wesker’s car. His look was that of mild amusement, genuinely less snide than usual.

Claire glared at him. “Can you blame me? Stuck in a car with an evil asshole like you. What are we even doing here anyway?”

“Waiting...some of us more patiently than others.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

He stared out the tinted windows, elbow resting on the side panel of his door with his chin propped on his knuckles. He had taken his sunglasses off again when they had parked here over half an hour ago, observing and waiting patiently. Apparently, this man had the patience of a saint - and Wesker having any saint-like qualities, wasn’t that the epitome of irony?

They were in southern Raccoon, on the east side of Circular River, south of Cider District where all of Raccoon City’s schools were. It was mostly warehouses and old apartment complexes around here. It wasn’t the poorest part of town, but Wesker’s XK8 was out of place in this area, and Claire had no idea what he was waiting for.

Claire had tried to behave, be good like Ada and the Birkins suggested, but her defiance soon got the better of her being stuck in that car with him, with nothing to do but go mad. So she deliberately fidgeted and made noise, anything she thought that would get under his skin.

After a bit, certain that her antics weren’t working, the STARS Captain soon glowered her way. “If you wish to irritate me, perhaps you should take pointers from Will. But let’s be honest here, Ms. Redfield, I know you are above such petty antics. If you have something to say, then say it.”

Claire didn’t break his intimidating gaze, glaring at him in return. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Feel better?”

“I will if I get the chance to kill you.”

Wesker’s smirk knotted her stomach again. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, dear heart.”

Smug prick…

Claire leaned back against her seat, folding her arms. “Why the hell am I even here? Surely, you can ruin someone else’s life without me?”

“I can. But why do that when I have pawns...and pleasant company...like you?” He smiled wryly at her glare. “Don’t worry yourself, my dear. No one will get hurt...today.”

“How can you be like this? My brother and the STARS look up to you, respect you! The city relies on you...Sherry adores you. How can you do this to them? Do you not feel anything?”

Wesker closed his eyes for a moment but remained impassive. “You’re wasting your time trying to understand me, Ms. Redfield.”

Claire wasn’t about to let him dissuade her that easily. She had a feeling her prying would get her in trouble, but damned if trouble wasn’t her middle name. “I have nothing better to do. So...hate the world? Trying to prove something? Issues? Emotional trauma? Revenge?”

She tried to read him for any kind of reaction, even if only minuscule. Though he was probably just a psychopath and nothing more, Claire had a feeling it was more than that. His relationship with the Birkins and apparent physical attraction to her proved that. It was something much deeper. The signs were there, what little the Birkins and Wesker himself had revealed to her.

I am no longer the ruled, I am the ruler. Wesker was obsessed with power and control. Something had to have made him that way.

Unfortunately, if the corrupt STARS Captain gave any reaction to her prying, she had missed it. If only she could read him like William could...

Wesker sighed, as if he heard this all before. “Since I know you are wondering it, I had a standard childhood.”

“Oh yeah? Parents? Siblings?”

He half-rolled his eyes. “My parents died long ago. I have a sister but we were raised separately.”

Now we're getting somewhere!

“That’s not a standard childhood,” Claire stated.

He looked at her and for half a second the college student swore she could see a little into this man’s darkened soul. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

The nerve he hit was sharp and sudden, like a knife digging underneath her fingernail. She scowled, no longer able to keep his gaze. She should’ve known he would’ve turned it right back around on her.

“Car accident, correct?”

Claire flinched, certain he would ridicule her for her loss and heartache on the subject. “Yeah.”

Say it...I dare you! Just give me a reason to pound your face in...

“I’m sorry, dear heart.”

Claire’s head snapped to gape at him so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. Completely taken by shock, he didn’t present her with anything further on the words she would have never thought to ever hear come out of his mouth, let alone sincerely.

“Ah, right on time,” Wesker eventually said after a long bout of silence. “You see that man crossing the street ahead?”

Claire suppressed the turmoil of thoughts swirling in her head over their recent conversation and looked. She did see someone crossing the street; a younger man, tall and skinny, wearing mostly black, baggy clothes. He looked like a typical hoodlum, covered in tattoos, a cigarette lazily poking out from his lips.

“Yeah.”

“He will get inside that parked Ford Taurus. I need for you to join him.”

“What? I don’t even know the guy!”

Sure enough, the hoodlum got into the driver side of the parked car just up ahead.

Wesker looked to her, lips twitching in amusement. “He’s expecting you, dear heart. Just say ‘not the gravy’ and he will do the rest.”

Claire gawked at him. “Not...the gravy? Are you kidding me?”

Wesker sighed. “Do I wish I was. William’s code, not mine.”

“Oh…” she mumbled. She wasn’t really surprised since it was William. Still, she wasn’t fond of the idea of sitting in the car of a total stranger with no weapon on her. Granted, she was sure she could pummel the guy easily enough, but one couldn’t be too careful.

Wesker must have sensed her unease. “The sooner you do this, the sooner we can leave. Meaning one step closer to you going home. Trust me, Claire, as long as I have you, no one will touch a hair on your head.”

Unless it’s your Russian Colonel friend, right?

The Devil might as well have been telling her to trust him. Still, there was something about his tone that did make her feel a little safer...a little. The younger Redfield slowly opened the door to the black luxury car and stepped out.

Taking a deep breath, really wishing she could have her gun or knife on her, she walked down the slushy sidewalk. A lot of the snow had melted from the sun being out for a couple of days, but more snow - and cloudy gloominess - was inbound. The dropping temps tonight would for sure turn this slush into more ice.

Reaching the car, Claire slowly pulled the handle to the passenger door and slipped inside. The interior was ragged and smelled of cigarette smoke. The guy had been sitting patiently this whole time with his hands in his pockets. He looked at her, only mild surprise coming over him and he gave her a one-over. If Claire had to guess, this seemingly normal looking hoodlum was an informant of some kind.

Claire sighed. “Not the gravy.”

The guy nodded, eyes scanning around them for a moment before he reached inside his coat and pulled out a small white envelope. He offered it to her. Claire studied it for a couple of heartbeats and then grabbed it. When she tried to pull it away, he tightened his hold on it.

“They only stayin’ for another week. If he gonna hit ‘em, he better hit ‘em fast.”

Claire swallowed. “Got it.”

The informant let the envelope go. He reached up and turned the keys to his ignition. Claire was sure that was her signal to leave and got out of the car. She barely shut the door before the sedan pulled away from the curb, loud music blaring even through the rolled up windows. Claire watched him go for only a second before turning and going back to Wesker’s car.

Once she was back inside his much nicer vehicle, shutting the door to contain the warmth from the heater, she immediately presented him the envelope. The STARS Captain took it, their fingers brushing, and Claire wasn’t sure whether he deliberately did it or not. He had already placed his sunglasses back on.

“He said they are only staying for a week and if you are going to hit them, you better do it fast.”

Wesker smirked as he opened the envelope and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. He unfolded it and read through it while Claire remained quiet, waiting.

“Hmm, interesting,” he mused. “I may get to cut the head off of more than one snake.”

Claire had no idea what he was planning or who it involved, but she knew it meant people were going to get hurt or killed. Or exploited if Wesker had his way. These “snakes” had to be problems or threats to him somehow. Or perhaps obstacles to a bigger prize. Her stomach soured just thinking about what he could do to these people, innocent or not.

All she knew was that she was sitting right next to her snake. And it was constricting around her, each new coil making it harder to breath, pulling her closer, poised to strike with venomous fangs. Claire had heard plenty of rattlesnakes growing up. She didn’t hear a rattler, but she sure felt the same cold weight of dread plummet in her stomach hearing one often produced.

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #clairexwesker #ChrisxJill #Claire Redfield #Chris Redfield #Albert Wesker #Jill Valentine #William Birkin #annette birkin #sherry birkin #fanfiction

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chibinightowl · 6 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter Seven

Almost done! A big thanks to @myfavrobin because without you, this chapter wouldn’t have been whipped into shape!

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

~*~*~

And as in uffish thought he stood, the Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, came whiffling through the tulgey wood, and burbled as it came!

Well, that’s one thing the poem definitely has wrong. This version of the Jabberwocky doesn’t burble. It cackles, the sound of which makes nails on a chalkboard seem like the finest symphony orchestra.

Jason comes up with a new name for the creature, one that will probably fit better than he cares to think about once he has a chance to see it.

The Jokerwocky.

Abruptly, he stands and heads to the top of the stairs, his long strides eating up the short distance.

“Are you crazy?” Tim-Cat hisses. He follows and manages to snag his claws in the back of Jason’s jacket before he descends. “The Red Knight could be anywhere.”

“Thought you could sense him?” Jason tries to shrug off the Cat, but he doesn’t let go.

“I can’t. Not him. The Red Queen has done something to his aura. He’s like that dark spot you see if you look at the sun for too long. There’s nothing until he’s right on top of you.”

“That has to suck for you.”

Tim-Cat scoffs. “I have no idea who he is, so yes, it does. Anyway, will you just slow down? This is a trap, in case you’d forgotten.”

He hasn’t. But he’s sick and tired of these goddamned games. “Yeah, it is. But is it for me or for you? The Red Queen doesn’t have a fucking clue who I am, so everything that’s happened since I got here has to be directed toward the White Queen, and by extension, you. Or do the Tweedles get kidnapped on a regular basis?” Dick still can’t quite live down his old nickname of Boy Hostage, no matter how old he’s gotten. No one comes even close to the number of times he’s been taken captive, on purpose or not.

The Cheshire Cat’s grip tightens. “What you’re speaking of is an act of war. There hasn’t been one since the Court of Cards toppled and the Red and White factions took power.”

Yet again, Jason marvels over the depth and richness of the world he’s dreamed up. When this is over (it has to be over soon, it has to be), he might just have to write this shit down, if only for his own amusement.

“I’m surprised your Knight’s death didn’t start a new one.”

“The White Queen wouldn’t let me.” Tim-Cat’s tone says exactly what he still thinks about that and Jason can’t blame him. If the roles were reversed and something happened to his Tim… well, it’s not gonna be pretty.

“I’ll lead then,” Jason replies. “No one here expects me. Just watch my back and take any opportunity you see to grab the sword.”

Tim-Cat growls low in his throat and presses his lips to Jason’s in a brief yet fierce kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with those sharp fangs. “I know better than to warn you about not doing anything dangerous, so don’t do anything stupid.”

Jason grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

~*~*~

There’s something missing when Jason saunters into the parlor like he owns it the place. All the hideously rich furniture and presumptuous paintings are there and exactly as he remembers. Even the curtains match his memories. A surprisingly cheerful fire is laid in the fireplace, glowing warmly against the gloom.

No, what has him stopping short is the annoying lack of anyone in the room besides him.

What the hell is going on?

“I thought for sure she’d be in here,” Tim-Cat mutters behind him. “Why else have a fire when the rest of the house is dark?”

“This is Harley Quinn or your world’s version of her,” Jason replies, cautiously stepping further into the room to look around. “I never pretend to understand what’s going on in that head.”

The Cheshire Cat slinks his way around him and stops, planting hands on hips as he frowns. “What are we missing?”

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

It still echoes from everywhere and nowhere, a disembodied voice that, in an odd way, really does burble. If you called sending shivers down your spine and icepicks into your brain a proper burble. Jason would much rather hear a burbling brook in some idyllic countryside than this shit.

He’s had enough. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouts into the void that is the empty house. “No one wants to hear your shitty laugh!”

The silence is even more disturbing than before.

Tim-Cat wheels around and smacks him. “I swear, you must be mad. That’s the Jabberwocky!”

“Who can die just like anyone else with the right piece of equipment,” Jason retorts. They need to find that sword so they can get the fuck out of this nightmare. “I’m sick of this little game. Besides, I think know where they are.”

The Cat pales. “Where?”

“In the cave beneath the house.”

“The what?”

Jason jerks his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“How do you even know…?”

He places a hand on the door frame and looks back at the disgruntled cat. Tim’s tail lashes wild from side to side, the only sign of his agitation. “Because I know the inside of this place like the back of my own goddamned hand.”

To prove it, Jason marches out of the room, across the foyer, and heads deeper into the house, his steps unerringly heading toward a room that in the waking world is Bruce’s study.

It’s almost annoying that it still is when he opens the door. Doubts he had about this being something other than a dream start to dissipate, leaving behind questions over just how fucked up his head really is.

The study is almost pitch black, the only light coming from a freshly cracked glowstick and the occasional lightning from the storm still churning overhead. But all the furniture is as it should be, and Jason is tempted to take a closer look at the pictures hanging on the wall. Is there one of him, locked in stasis as the world moves on around him? Or are portraits here like in Harry Potter and the images come to life?

He’s crossing enough genres that it’s entirely plausible.

Tim-Cat is cautious as he peers around him, eyes luminous in the eerie blue glow. “What is this place?”

A number of answers come to mind, but Jason picks the most honest one. “A place where, for the first time in my life, I was given magic.”

“You’re a magician?”

“Not literal magic,” he explains. “But at the time, it sure felt like it.”

Call him a sap, but Tim makes him feel the same way and not just because of what he can do with his tongue.

Jason digs through his jacket and finds his actual flashlight. No point in hiding their presence anymore, not that they were doing that stellar of a job anymore. “Here, it’ll probably be pitch black down there.”

Tim-Cat holds it up curiously. “What is this?”

“A light that won’t go out.” It’s got the Batman seal of approval on it, it sure as fuck better not go out because of a cheap-ass battery or shitty bulb. “Click that little switch.”

“Oh wow,” the Cheshire Cat breathes as he complies, the strong beam of light illuminating the far side of the study where an old grandfather clock rests tall and proud against the wall.

“Hold it right there,” Jason instructs, crossing the study in a few swift strides to stand in front of the oh-so-familiar clock and adjust the time.

For some reason, his heart starts pounding, the beat loud in his ears. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, maybe it’s the anticipation of finally getting to punch something. Hell, maybe it’s the fact that this dream quest/hallucination will be over soon. Whatever it is, the adrenaline rush is welcome.

Especially since the Red Knight lunges out of the clock entrance as soon as Jason opens it, sword in hand and ready to make his life fucking hurt.

“Goddammit!”

He ducks under the initial strike, hearing Tim-Cat’s surprised shout and not being able to do a damn thing about it as he focuses on not getting sliced with a sword that’s making a very strange noise every time the Red Knight swings.

Almost like…

Jason dances out of the way again, doing his best to stay out of range of the blade that’s going snicker-snack.

“He’s got the vorpal sword!” Tim-Cat cries out, voice laced with indignation and rage. “He’s using my Knight’s sword!”

The outburst draws the attention of the Red Knight. He pauses, gaze shifting from Jason to the Cheshire Cat. A low growl is heard from under his helmet and he lunges to the right to try and get around Jason.

He’s not fast enough.

“Nice try, buddy.” Jason slams into him, trying to force the man off balance enough to trip him, but it doesn’t work. The Knight recovers his footing but tries again to move past him toward Tim-Cat.

Jason feels rather smug that he called it earlier, that all of this is a trap of some sort for the Cheshire Cat, emissary or whatever he is, of the White Queen. “He’s after you, Cat! Get outta here!”

“Like hell I will!” Tim-Cat shadows his footsteps, keeping the light aimed at the Red Knight as he bounces around the room, as much at ease on the furniture as he is on the floor.

Once again, Jason wishes he had his own hood with him. The protection it provides would even the odds as the vorpal sword gives the Red Knight a much longer reach. He’s at a disadvantage unless he can get in close. Faster than conscious thought, he analyzes the Knight’s movements, his armor, looking for a weakness. He’s good, Jason will grant him that. Very good. What he needs is a distraction, something to make his opponent sloppy.

That gives him an idea. “What the fuck’s got you riled up, huh? Pissed off about your pet kitty?”

Behind him, Tim-Cat makes a strangled sound. “What are you doing?”

“What I do best.” Jason avoids another swing and instantly ducks low, trying for a leg swipe that fails as the blade follows after him. He rolls away and bounces back to his feet. “That was me, fucker. What kind of owner are you, leaving a poor, defenseless Bandersnatch out in the rain?”

The Red Knight doesn’t say a word, but his breathing grows more ragged and his swings more and more erratic the longer Jason runs his mouth. Despite that, he doesn’t provide an opening, his offense seamlessly blending into defense the few times Jason attempts an attack.

And then it's there.

But the opening isn’t there for him. It’s for the Cheshire Cat.

Tim-Cat leaps from his perch on the desk, claws extended, leaving the flashlight behind. He lands on the Red Knight’s back with a feral howl, slashing at the material comprising the Knight’s armor. “Give it back! Give it back!” he growls, sending shreds of metal and fabric everywhere.

Jason is momentarily startled because those very same claws were digging into his shoulders this morning, but then he’s moving, taking that step into the reach of the sword and grabbing hold of the Knight’s wrist, wrenching it wide and away from him.

They struggle for control, the Knight not completely out of the game yet even with the Cheshire Cat still wreaking havoc from behind. The Knight tries to redirect them, crowding closer to the still open doorway leading down into the cave, but Jason plants his feet, adjusts his grip, and sends the helmeted man head over heels.

Tim-Cat jumps gracefully from his back to land on his feet, pivoting smoothly to kick the vorpal sword out of the Knight’s hand. “If this sword belongs to anyone, it’s me,” he hisses, picking it up while staying well out of reach.

Jason can’t fault that logic, but he’s got other things to deal with. He’s quick to follow the Red Knight to the floor, pinning him and making a point to drive his knee into the shredded remains of what looks like a flak jacket. There’s no time to question the material, out of place as it is in this dreamscape, as the Knight finally makes a sound, a harsh grunt that turns into a growl.

The cowled helm turns toward the Cheshire Cat. “Mine,” a deep voice rasps out.

“Nice try, asshat,” Jason replies, digging his knee in harder to force another pained grunt. “But that sword belongs to the White Knight.”

Technically, it probably belongs to the White Queen, but he has no plans to get between Tim-Cat and Babs when they try and figure that out.

“Mine,” the Red Knight says again, this time trying to inch his way along the floor toward the Cheshire Cat despite being immobilized.

“Single-minded, aren’t cha?” Jason comments. He has his hands full trying to keep the Knight still. The big man twists and squirms just like he does whenever Dick or Bruce manages to pin him on the training mats. Dick, the annoying fucker, likes to sit on him.

“He sure is,” Tim-Cat replies. He carefully tucks the sword into his belt and picks up the flashlight, shining it in the Knight's face. “This is the first time any of us have managed to get this close to the Red Knight. The White Queen will be generous in her reward if we find out who's under that helmet.”

“Whatever, just make it fast. I can't secure him without your help.”

“Mine,” the Knight growls, sounding more frustrated than before.

“That shiny piece of metal doesn't belong to you, big guy,” Jason replies, adjusting his grip while contending with a wild buck from the man beneath him. Looks like he's not the only one on an adrenaline fueled high. “This’ll be a lot easier if we tie him up. I got cuffs and zip-ties in my outer pocket. Grab ‘em for me, will ya?”

“I have no idea what a zip-tie is,” Tim-Cat states, but he gamely digs through Jason’s pockets anyway.

“You’re doin’ just fine.” Jason guides his partner through how to use the sturdy, Bat-approved, pieces of plastic. Once the Red Knight’s absolutely wicked gauntlets are removed, his hands are easily secured. However, when the Cheshire Cat tackles his legs, the bound man doesn’t make easy for him.

“We could just kill him,” Tim-Cat snarls after a near miss with a heavily booted foot. “For all we know, he’s the one who killed my Knight in the first place.”

The callousness takes Jason aback as he finally releases the Red Knight and kicks him solidly in the ribs to keep him from moving. The knees of his uniform are wet and tacky with blood. “You mean you don’t know who killed him?”

“The White Queen never told me who it was.” Tim-Cat’s voice takes on a sorrowful tone before firming once again. “Maybe she’ll let me have this one’s head.”

Jason rests a hand on the Cat’s shoulder, forcing him to look up. “Hey. Far be it for me to tell you not to take your revenge, but I just gotta point out a little something.”

“What?” Tim-Cat asks warily.

“Revenge won’t bring back the mome-raths.”

The Cheshire Cat chokes back a sob, brushing away tears that suddenly glisten in his bright blue eyes. “You’re right,” he says after a moment. “You’re completely right.”

“It happens sometimes.” Jason shrugs, then nods toward the Red Knight who has finally stopped squirming. “Let’s unmask him.”

He straddles the broad back and feels around for the hidden catches in the helmet while Tim-Cat holds the light steady. Oddly enough, they’re in the same place he has them on his own hood.

Jason’s guts suddenly feel like lead and his hands tremble faintly as he draws off the Red Knight’s helm. It can’t be. Even his brain won’t do that to him.

Right?

Tim-Cat gasps and drops the flashlight, falling to his knees as his already pale skin loses what little color it had.

The Knight coughs and raises his head, glaring balefully as he tries to buck Jason off him again. “Mine,” he growls, eyes locked on the Cheshire Cat. “My Cat.”

Jason knows without even looking who the Red Knight is, who he’s been fighting since he leapt out from the clock. The irony isn’t lost on him.

He’s been battling himself.

Okay, so his subconscious really is that jacked up because what the fuck? This is so much deeper than Jason wants to explore, not right now when he’s so close to the end.

Tears are streaming down Tim-Cat’s face as he falls to his knees before the bound Red Knight. “What happened to you? I can’t... I can’t sense you!”

Jason shoves his own feeling about everything to the side to deal with later. He’s got an idea thanks to another Wonderland-themed villain back home. “Even without the helmet?”

The Cheshire Cat doesn’t even spare him a glance. “No,” he replies after a moment.

“Hmm...” Jason removes a glove and runs a hand through the Knight’s matted hair. Just above his left ear, he finds a small lump that shouldn’t be there. “Gimme that light, would ya?”

Tim-Cat numbly complies.

The Knight doesn’t like any of this and continues to struggle toward his cat.

“Hold still, would ya? If I’m right, I know why you’re not in your right mind anymore.” Jason angles the light over the bump and pushes away the hair as best he can.

Sure enough, there’s a scar, about an inch long and as thick as Tim’s pinky.

“What is it?” Tim-Cat asks, rousing himself from his grief. Considering what he said just before they unmasked the Knight, he’s probably feeling like a complete and utter ass.

“Something was done to his head. I’ve seen this in my world before, but always with hats.” Jason frowns and runs the pad of his finger lightly over the spot. There’s no give. “I can feel something under his skin.”

“Get it out,” Tim hisses.

“I’m not exactly prepared to do brain surgery, Cat. This could be right under the skin or have wires all over his brain. I don’t about you, but do you really want him to have permanent brain damage if I’m wrong?” He quietly shudders at the memory of Mad Hatter Brucie. The last thing he wants is to turn any version of himself into that.

“Then we need to get out of here and return to the White Queen.” Tim-Cat rise smoothly to his feet. “We have what we came for. Help me carry him.”

The thought of lugging the Red Knight all the way across the garden isn’t appealing in the slightest, but Jason can’t see another alternative. “I don’t want him fighting us the whole way,” he says instead. “Think you can calm him down? He’s reacting to you instead of the sword. I think...”

It’s vaguely reassuring that the Knight won’t take his eyes off his Cat. Even out of his mind, he knows the one he loves most. Do he and his Tim have this kind of bond? That’s actually kind of terrifying now that he thinks about it, but also rather reassuring.

“That’s easy enough to test.” Tim-Cat hands him the vorpal sword. “Now give me some space.”

Jason juggles the sword and the flashlight momentarily and stands, leaving the Knight to squirm around on the floor.

Sure enough, the Knight completely ignores Jason and the sword. “Mine,” he says again and tries to inch his way toward the Cheshire Cat.

“Was his vocabulary more extensive before all this?” Jason asks, trying not to be a complete and utter dick.

“It was.” Sadness etches itself across Tim-Cat’s face as he kneels again and brushes a claw over his Knight’s cheek. The large man presses against the touch as best he can. “He was the finest poet in the White Queen’s court.”

There’s a quiet dig there, but Jason pointedly ignores it. His Tim has no problem with how he speaks, fuck you very much. “Okay, let’s find something we can bind his back with and get the hell outta here.”

He glances toward the still-open clock and the dark abyss beyond. It’s like a gaping maw of nothingness, waiting to swallow anything that gets trapped in its grasping claws. A chill breeze moves the stagnant air in the study, damp and with a metallic tang that he knows all too well.

Blood.

Closing the door seems like a good idea. A really good idea. Keeping the light aimed away from it, Jason lays a hand on the grandfather clock and pushes with exactly the right amount of force learned through night after night of racing Bruce down to the cave after dinner so they could get ready for patrol.

It doesn’t move.

Frowning, Jason shoves harder.

Still nothing.

Tim-Cat looks up from his Knight. “This is the Red Queen’s castle. She can do whatever she wants in here.”

That much is obvious. Jason abandons the door and crosses the room to the window, his strides long and hurried. He’s starting to feel trapped. Trapped in this house, in this world, betrayed by his own mind.

He needs to get out of here. He needs to wake the fuck up.

One of the curtains is ripped from the window, heavy and dusty, but Jason doesn’t think the linen closet off the laundry will be any better and he doesn’t dare venture back upstairs to see if the house morphs back into Arkham Asylum or remains Wayne Manor. The Knight isn’t cooperative unless Tim-Cat is where he can see him, whispering soothing words and lightly caressing his cheek as Jason tends to his back.

There’s an almost childlike quality about the man. Innocent in a way, at least when he has what he wants.

Jason is self-aware enough to recognize he’s seeing a certain aspect of his personality here, one that never has a chance to appear these days. Or does it? He spares a moment to think about their quiet afternoons when they first wake up, where both of their guards are down, still muddled by sleep. Their video games and movie nights. Hell, even the occasional food fight when they both are feeling particularly sassy and are making dinner together.

What’s interesting to see is that each memory has Tim associated with it. Is he the key that fits into the lock that shields and protects that part of himself that had so few instances to reveal itself as a child?

When he wakes up, he’s got a hell of a lot to think about. Maybe he’ll even take the time to do it.

Jason sighs and finishes the quick dressing for the jagged slashes ripped into the Knight’s back by his lover’s claws. Those are going to hurt later and he’s sure the Cheshire Cat already feels guilty as hell. He rips another curtain from the window for the makeshift sling they’ll need to haul his dream-self around in. Considering the distance, they’ll need it, especially since the Cat insists they can take turns once they’re out of here.

“Assuming we get out of here in one piece,” Jason says in a low tone, glancing at the grandfather clock. It’s been deathly quiet since the Red Knight emerged from the stairwell leading down to the cave and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Tim-Cat follows his gaze. “I would sooner die than lose my Knight again,” he states evenly, almost as though he’s making a vow.

Jason frowns, but doesn’t poke. For all that this is just a dream, it’s sure as hell masquerading quite nicely as reality.

The Knight doesn’t like being so close to Jason once they get him into the sling but settles once Tim-Cat shushes him. “Mine,” he repeats, glaring at Jason.

“I know, buddy. I know. Don’t worry, I got my own Tim.”

It’s slow going as they make their way out of the room, even after stripping the Knight of most of his armor and weapons to lighten the load. Apparently even dream versions of himself are heavy as fuck. The vorpal sword is now sheathed and strapped at Jason’s waist. The argument that Tim-Cat should just teleport and take it directly to the White Queen fell on deaf ears.

“She tasked you with returning it, not me.”

Damn logic.

When they reach the foyer, it’s completely dark, the fire from the sitting room no longer burning cheerfully against the gloom. The darkness feels more oppressive than before. There’s a weight to it, one that drags and bites at his ankles with each step he takes. Jason swallows hard and gamely continues on toward the front door, the flashlight illuminating the way.

Something is watching them, waiting. Biding its time. He’s been in the game long enough to know.

Tim-Cat senses it too but doesn’t move from his spot at Jason’s side and keeps the light aimed on the door. His ears are upright, alert and twitching from side to side trying to pick out where the attack will come from.

They’re just a few steps from the door when the house itself groans, loud and low as the very foundations shake around them. Jason staggers, almost falling to his knees as the black and white tile cracks around them.

A voice speaks up, echoing around them so that it appears to come from everywhere.

“Ja-son. Jaaaa-son. Come out, come out wherever you are. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

Jesus Christ, he’d know that voice anywhere, even without the insane laughter at the end.

“Move.” Jason all but shoves his way forward and grabs hold of the doorknob.

“He’s been released!” Tim-Cat sounds frantic, eyes are wide and wild, neck craning as he tries to look around everywhere at once. “Oh, White Queen, the Jabberwocky is free.”

A second voice joins the cacophony, higher pitched, and no less mad.

“HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! Puddin’ wants to play!”

Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamned crutch. He’d almost forgotten about Harley. This dream has definitely reached nightmare-level proportions. He tries to open the door.

It’s locked and won’t budge.

“Fuck.” Jason yanks out one of his guns, ready to shoot the damned lock when the Knight speaks up.

“Sword.”

“Huh?” He looks over his shoulder at the Knight. They really could be twins, mirror images of each other.

“Sword,” the Knight repeats, gaze intent and oddly lucid compared to earlier.

What the hell does he have to lose? Jason holsters the gun and draws the vorpal sword instead. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters, silently praying he doesn’t break the sword on the lock. Swords aren’t exactly designed to break down doors.

Another chilling round of laughter echoes through the house and it shudders again. “Jason. Jaaaa-son. Why are you running away? You’re so much fun to plaaaaay with.”

Fuck. No.

Jason swings the sword, the downward stroke cutting right through the door with an audible snicker-snack.

“Again!” Tim-Cat and the Knight both cry out.

Another swing and the vorpal sword cuts through the wood like silk, the snicker-snack growing louder and louder with each stroke.

Jason sheathes the sword and kicks at the warped wood. Thick panels fall outwards, and Tim-Cat rushes through the gap, turning to pry at the loose boards to widen hole for him and the Knight.

The Jokerwocky’s and the Red Queen’s cackles grow closer. Jason can just imagine the Joker prowling the halls of Wayne Manor, rictus grin wide and those yellow eyes sharp with intent. To him, this is when the Joker is at his worst, because there is a keen intelligence behind that gaze, one that knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t give two fucks about it.

It’s the expression he wears when all he wants to see is the world burn.

“I have a crowbar with your name on it, little birdie. Which do you prefer? Forehand? Or backhand?”

Fuck this shit.

Jason takes a couple of steps back, puts his head down, and charges toward the door. The Red Knight shouts with unbridled glee as they crash through and onto the wide portico beyond.

Full night is upon them and the storm has mostly passed, leaving nothing but a full moon and hazy starlight to see by. The cool dampness from the rain is welcome in his lungs after the dry stale air of the house. Everything is still, nature herself cowering in fear over the presence of utter evil.

From outside, it looks like Arkham Asylum again.

Jason breathes deep but doesn’t stop moving. “Come on. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

Tim-Cat lopes down the stairs with easy grace, the flashlight leading the way.

Behind them, the house groans and the Jockerwocky’s cackle turns into a howl of rage.

“You’re not playing fair, bird boy! If it’s a whoopin’ you’re awantin’…”

They’re almost to the hedge when the bolt of lightning comes out of nowhere to strike the overgrown path behind them, knocking them to the ground. Jason struggles to regain his feet, but the Knight is heavy and is fighting against his bonds once again, groaning incoherently in Jason’s ear.

Tim-Cat bounces back up and rests a hand on his Knight. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “We’re going to be okay.”

Jason is seriously starting to doubt that. “Was that the Red Queen or the Jabberwocky?”

“I’ve no idea but get up and keeping moving. If we can make the garden, we’ll have a better chance at escaping.”

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

It sounds even closer than before.

Jason crawls his way upright and glances over his shoulder.

Standing on the wide portico before the broken door is the Joker. At the same time, it’s not as he seems to morph into some demonic hell beast before settling back into the more familiar human form. If Jason were to hazard a guess, it’s almost as though he can’t make up his mind over what form to take. The one from his worst nightmares or the one he expects to see given the situation.

His breath seizes in his chest.

The Joker can’t decide on a form because his own mind can’t figure out which is more terrifying. This hallucination is clearly gearing up for some epic climax and has stalled because his own subconscious doesn’t know what it wants to be afraid of more.

He’s in complete control if he can just make a fucking decision.

Jason strips the shoulder rig carrying the Knight from his shoulders and lowers the man to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Tim-Cat asks as Jason cuts the bindings from the Knight’s feet. “We need to run. Now.”

“Yeah, you do. And as strong as you are, you can’t carry him alone.” Jason gives the Knight a firm look. “Listen to me, buddy. I know you’re in there. I know what it’s like to be trapped with no fucking way out. But there is always a way. Don’t stop fighting whatever it is that’s in your head. You have your Cat back and he’ll do his damnedest to help save you. Listen to him and you’ll soon be free.”

That odd clarity returns to the Red Knight’s, no, the White Knight’s eyes. “Mine,” he says, glancing at Tim-Cat.

“He’s all yours. I have my own waiting for me back home.” Jason helps the Knight stand and Tim-Cat takes his hand.

“You’re going to fight the Jabberwocky.” It’s not a question and they both know it.

“Yeah, I am. He’s been in my nightmares long enough.” Jason draws the vorpal sword and salutes the Cheshire Cat and the White Knight. “It’s been real, Cat. Now go and save your Knight.”

Tim-Cat nods solemnly. “Maybe you’re not quite the asshole you’d like everyone to believe.”

Jason smirks, knowing it’ll get under the Cat’s skin because it sure as hell does with his Tim. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The Cheshire Cat returns his smirk and rises up on his toes to kiss the corner of Jason’s mouth. “Don’t die.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

Nodding, the Cat takes a firmer hold of his Knight and together, they disappear through the tunnel in the hedge.

Jason takes a deep breath. He really hopes he’s right about this because if he’s not, then he’s just signed his fucking death warrant for the second time. There’s no waking up from this, not if it goes south, fast. Raising the vorpal sword, he walks back up the path toward the house and the still flickering Joker. Harley is nowhere to be seen, but that doesn't mean she isn't lurking around, waiting for her own chance to strike. No use worrying about it now.

“Okay, you piece of shit. You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

#chibinightowl writes #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason in Wonderland #JayTim

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lokis-lady-death · 6 years ago

Text

Interview with a God Pt 14

Tom Hiddleston/Loki x reader

Prompt: I have always heard people joke that Tom Hiddleston is actually Loki playing Tom playing Loki. So, let’s write about it XD

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8 , Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Interview with a God Part 14 (1 of 3 part finale!)

You woke up the next morning, nude, wrapped in Loki’s arms and a blanket. At your slight stir, he pulled you closer against him, kissing the back of your head even while he was still asleep. You sighed, realizing there was no fighting it. You managed to turn and face him despite his grip.

Smiling to yourself, you were just in awe of how peaceful the god looked in his sleep. His black hair cascading over his porcelain skin, the sharpness of his cheekbones. You couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and touch him. Just to remind yourself that this was real. That he was real.

“Hm…” Loki hummed as turned into your hand. His eyes didn’t open, but his grip loosened enough that you were able to move. But you didn’t want to . You stayed there, petting his face, his hair. Just admiring him. “I can see why cats insist on this,” he said barely above a whisper.

“You’re a god, can’t you just turn into a cat if you’d like?”

Loki let out a laugh at your comment, finally opening those bright green eyes to take you in. “You have a peculiar view of what being a god is. You think we just go around turning into cats?”

“I would. Turn into a cat and sleep all day.” You smiled up at him while he kissed your forehead.

“Cats also don’t have to attend parties.”

Letting out a gasp you remembered Chris’s party. “Oh, I have to find something to wear…”

“We can go shopping after we have something to eat.”

“We could order room service again,” you suggest, looking over at the plates from last night’s dinner.

With a laugh, Loki admitted, “The only reason we did that is because neither of us wanted to get dressed to go out to eat.”

“I don’t believe that feeling has changed.”

He laughed again before picking up the phone. “Alright, darling, room service it is.”

But it turned out to be lunch time. “I had no idea we slept so late!” you exclaimed after you were done eating. “I rarely sleep past nine on the weekends.”

“Well… We were up rather late.” Loki offered you a wink as he sipped his coffee and you felt your face fluster. “Now, about tonight’s dress.”

*****

The sun went down and it was officially time for the party. You sat in the back of the escalade in the dress Tom bought you, shifting slightly, unsure of yourself. “Are you sure it’s not a too much?” You asked several times. The dress was red and classic style, hugging you in just the right ways.

Tom himself was in a black suit, adjusting the collar as he said, “No, I believe you’re absolutely incredible.” He reached to take your hand, pulling you into his lap. “Would you like me to show you how incredible I think you are?” And before you could utter another word of doubt, his mouth was on yours.

Your kiss was cut short when the car came to a stop and Dave opened the door. “You two have your smiles ready, there’s quite the crowd,” he warned.

Immediately leaving the car, you and Tom were bombarded with photographers.

“You look great tonight, Tommy!” you heard one yell, another saying in your direction, “We love your dress!”

Your face lit up and you laughed nervously, feeling just a little less so when Tom’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you in.

“Give her another kiss!”

Leading you past them to the hotel doors, Tom asked, “Is this something you could get use to, darling?”

“Pictures? Sure. I’m a girl in the twenty first century, we’re bred for having our pictures taken.”

“It’ll be like this every time they know where we’re going. They’ll be there, waiting for us. Lighting the way with their little cameras…” Tom’s voice softened and he looked down before passing the foyer. “It’s a lot, I know. It’s troublesome. It’s taken some getting used to on my part. But…”

You silenced him with a kiss, feeling the cameras light up on the other side of the glass doors. “I have no problems with us getting our picture taken.” He smiled back at you before taking a deep breath. “Right. Well. Shall we?” and opened the doors for you.

The party was certainly not what you expected. Initially you knew it wouldn’t be that small of a gathering, but it looked like the entire hotel was set up for the event. The massive room had a full size bar, a stage with a band, even an onslaught of staff waiting on the various celebrities. The lights were dimmed, lit simply by candles on the tables and lowlights against the walls. Grand chandeliers of crystals did little more than reflect the light from below.

“Our guests of honor have arrived!” Chris announced from the stage via microphone. Everyone turned to see the two of you and clapped. Now you were a bit embarrassed but Tom’s grip on your side helped. Chris held the freshly printed copy of People Magazine with Tom’s face plastered on the cover. A picture you had chosen. “Let’s hear it for the Sexiest Man Alive!”

The room went into an uproar and a slew of people surrounded you both, mostly asking how long you had known Tom and if you had any hand in picking him for SMA. It was nearly ten straight minutes of questions before you felt your nerves were on edge, but then a hand took yours and pulled you away.

Out of the peripheral of your vision, you saw something that was a bit out of place. A woman, skin as pale as a snow, a black skin tight gown, and a short matching birdcage veil. She looked like the bride of the dead. She locked eyes with you and, though you couldn’t explain it, you had a sudden rush of panic running through your veins.

But Tom’s voice got your attention. “Excuse us, It’s great seeing you all, Yes, thank you, it’s an honor really,” you heard him tell the group as he broke you both away. With a heavy sigh, you saw the relief of a little breathing room wash over his face.

“I’d think you were used to it all by now after your comment about the paparazzi,” you laughed. You heard the band play some classical mix of a modern song you couldn’t quite place.

“It doesn’t matter how often these things happen, it’s hard to get used to.” Tom looked down at you, taking in your smile, the light in your eyes. His hand came up and brushed your hair back before asking, “Would you like to dance, y/n?”

He led you by the hand to the dance floor and wrapped his arms around you. Your head laid on his chest, drowning out the rest of the world as he gently swayed the two of you back and forth to the music. His lips brushed the top of your head and you couldn’t help but look up.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked.

Tom watched you, holding onto your hand while he led you, then twirled you like a ballerina. “I’m thinking about a lot of things, darling,” he admitted through a grin.

“Like what?”

He brought you up against his body, his hand pressing your lower back as he leaned down to your ear. “I’m thinking about how beautiful you look in this dress… and how beautiful you’ll look once I rip it off you.”

Your cheeks flushed just as a hand clasped onto your shoulder.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite celebrity couple!” Chris announced, his tone just a bit slurred. He had obviously been drinking, lost behind his own toothy grinned merriment. “Might I borrow her?”

Tom scrunched his nose. “For what?”

“Company. Besides, you need to go socialize. And I would hate for her to get caught up in the millions of questions everyone has for you.” Before Tom could even offer an argument, Chris was leading you away and a few people were already spotting the opportunity to speak to the Sexiest Man Alive.

It was a bit surprising that Chris had brought you to the bar but you appreciated having a seat. You ordered a coke while Chris ordered a whiskey. You watched him drink but looked away when he caught you staring. He smiled before saying, “It gets less strange for you, you know. Being around gods. That’s what my wife says, anyway.”

“I don’t see how that’s true,” you admitted with an uneasy laugh. But then you thought and asked, “So your wife… Elsa. She knows?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a very honest husband if I kept that from her.”

You nodded, sure that must have been an obvious answer. “Is she…”

Chris’s brow quirked and he finished, “A goddess? No. But I don’t know a single one that could light a match next to her.” He smiled fondly thinking of her before adding with a wink, “She’s my oracle, ya know.”

“Oh,” you said dimly before realizing what he meant, “Ooooh!” You bit your lip and let the thought sink in as he chuckled. Taking a deep breath, Chris’s look became a bit more serious.

“Y/n… I was wondering. What all have you and Tom spoken about?”

“A lot of different things…” And the truth about why he wanted you away from Tom was finally coming.

Chris leaned in, the liquer clear on his breath, as he asked, “Has he… Has he told you what happened… to our mother?”

Like a deer in headlights, you felt a jolt run straight to your core as you nearly choke on your drink. You knew he wasn’t as secretive as Tom but you hadn’t expected the bluntness. “He told me…” How did you know what to tell him? Was there any point in lying? “He said Allfather made him leave Asgard because he believed Loki had something to do with it.”

Rather than look at you, Chris tilted the cup. “Did he ever tell you if he...?”

“No. But I don’t think he did.”

He looked at you, pushing, “And what makes you think that?”

“Just that I can tell by the way he talks about your mother that he cared about her. The same way I can tell he cares about you.”

Chris pulled back, his eyes going back to the whiskey in his hand. “Yes, well…. I have always believed he was innocent. I only wish he would at least tell me what happened.”

“What do you think happened?” You knew you might be pushing it, knew that if it was Tom he would have shut you down with only a look, but Chris wasn’t like that. There was a part of him that trusted you with this situation in a way Tom didn’t. You wish you understood why. There was no way to know why until you heard the story itself and who better than Thor.

“What I know for sure: a sister I knew nothing about contacted Loki, claiming to be born of the same mother as him. He invited her to come visit Asgard and before long, she started trying to ease her way into the throne.” He let out a sigh, trying to drink out of his already empty glass. He flagged down the bartender and instantly had a refill. “The next thing I hear is that our mother is dead, Hela was nowhere to be found, and Loki was left wounded.”

“What happened?”

“That, no one knows for sure. Allfather was away on an expedition while I was here. We were summoned home by the news that Mother was gone.” Chris closed his eyes for a moment. “Stabbed, once, straight through the chest.”

“Did Loki say if Hela attacked him?”

He shook his head. “No. That was what made it so much worse. He had wounds, obviously fighting someone. Mother only had the one mark. But the problem was… it was from one of Loki’s knives.”

“No…”

“I know what you’re thinking. Truth be told I’ve thought the same. But,” and this time he looked at you, “I have known Loki since he was a newborn. We grew up together. We fought battles side by side. You don’t spend your entire life with someone and one day they’re suddenly someone else. I just don’t believe that. I know my brother.”

“So what happened to Hela?”

“She slithered back to whatever dark hole she crawled out of, never to be seen again.”

“But why?”

“Hm?”

“Why would she just leave? Surely she did all of that for a reason.”

Chris took a deep swallow of his drink, sorting out his collected thoughts. “I think she simply hated Loki for being welcomed into Asgard. She grew up wherever she did, not in a palace, not with a loving mother, not with a respected father. I think she was just bitter and believed everything Loki had she deserved. And she was just as happy leaving him to clean up her mess… and our dead mother.”

It was just all so overwhelming. “But why does Allfather blame Loki? It’s clearly Hela’s doing!”

Apprehension covered the god of thunder’s face, wondering if maybe he had gone too far. But what was the harm of one more question? “Because he says he didn’t save mother. Says he didn’t fight hard enough. Even if he is to believe that Loki didn’t drive his own knife through Frigga’s chest, he caused it to happen. And that Hela being there was his fault. Allfather had kept her out of Asgard for a reason…” Chris let out a sigh, setting down his cup. “But Loki had no way of knowing that. Our father had a terrible habit of keeping secrets, expecting them to keep his world in tact. But in the end, as ironic as any story could be, it unraveled his family. His wife is dead, his illegitimate daughter is hiding, I’m spending my life protecting midgard and his only hope for an heir was banished from his kingdom.” This time Chris looked up, his eyes grave, his voice solomon. “Secrets are a terrible habit, one that I’m afraid Loki inherited from our father. For whatever reason, he has, to this day, kept our mother’s death a secret.”

“He told me he couldn’t tell because…” the sudden distinct attention Chris was giving you made you incredibly uncomfortable as you finished, “…he made a promise not to.”

By the flash on Chris’s face you knew this was news to him. You took a sip of your own drink, lost in a haze of thoughts. Just as Chris went to ask a question, someone from the hotel came to ask for his assistance with a guest at the party. “I’ll be just a moment,” he said. “We will be finishing this conversation, y/n.” Not a threat, but a promise.

You nodded and looked straight, contemplating if you should wait there or find Tom to possibly warn him that Chris would be wanting to talk to him about this. The thought did not settle your already shook nerves.

“Sweet girl. Sweet, but boring,” you heard a woman say smoothly as she rounded you on the barstool, her hand tracing over your shoulders. “Stay put,” she instructed and you sank back into your seat. “I need to take a good look at you.”

Part 15 is up!

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TAGS ARE CLOSED, STORY IS DOOOOOONE!!!! Feel free to ask to be on my ALL TAGS for future stories :D

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#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x oc #marvel fanfiction #marvel smutt #marvel #loki (marvel)#Lady Death Writes #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x oc

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afteriwake · 6 years ago

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The Paradigm Shift (4 & 5/14)

So I think I’m going to do the next two chapters at the same time, too, because I’m almost 99% sure chapter 7 is explicit and would be the one under the cut anyway. Then you all get to suffer and get one chapter a day for the rest of the story (sorry, @strangelock221b!)

The Paradigm Shift - After Moriarty almost kills Molly during a sexual encounter, he sends Moran to take care of things. But Moran has other ideas and Molly finds her life upended and changed forever.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 4 | Read Chapter 5 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

Chapter 4

She woke up to an empty bed and the few things she had brought with her from London having been put away. Toby was squarely in the center of the bed, sleeping in a patch of sunlight that had come in from the window. She panicked for just a moment about her surroundings but then it registered that she was safe and she relaxed. Seb would keep all of them safe, she knew that.

She realized the robe had slipped partially while she’d slept and that a quilt had been draped over her since she hadn’t gone under the covers when she’d fallen asleep. It was a T-shirt quilt, and she imagined it was something that was important to him to be at this place. It looked as though it was made up of various shirts and jerseys from schools she had never heard of. A Father’s Day present, perhaps? She’d have to ask.

She got dressed at a leisurely pace, enjoying the lack of tension in her body. She was definitely going to take advantage of the sauna as much as possible. She felt truly relaxed and even though she knew there were the bruises around her neck from the shag gone wrong, they didn’t hurt. She was still going to have to look at them, though, and that influenced her choice of clothing for the day. She had taken a few scarves to wrap around her neck when they were escaping London, and she picked a soft chiffon one that was bright yellow and matched the vest she chose to wear with a pair of yoga pants. She had gotten clothing more for comfort than anything else in her rush to leave.

She had the feeling if there was anything in her flat left in good condition she probably would never see it again. Jim was the type to be petty about losing his toys.

And then she felt hit with a wave of emotion she hadn’t been expecting and tears slipped down her cheeks. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest, and started sobbing into them. Her life was never going to be the same, ever, and this...this was what she had now.

She heard the door open softly but her crying continued, and after a moment she felt two strong arms wrap around her and Seb’s solid chest against her legs. She lowered her legs and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“Get it out,” he murmured, as though he’d been expecting this. And he wasn’t the only one comforting her; Toby came over to them and rubbed against her back in creature comforting style.

“I can’t go home,” she finally said between sobs.

“No, and I’m sorry for that,” he replied. “But this can be a home of sorts.”

“But it’s not my home,” she said as fresh tears sprung out of her eyes.

“I know,” he said. “Jim will pay, one way or another.”

“No!” She jerked her head up and looked at him. “Don’t do anything that could get you hurt, or worse. I just...I’m not worth it.”

“You very much are,” he said simply, kissing the top of her head gently. “Jim’s a monster, he needs to be put down. Once I know you’re safe, I’ll clean up the mess I helped make, but for now, I’ll give information to Holmes and his brother. You’re the priority. We all want you safe. Alright?”

She nodded and then the tears lessened but he held her close again. This was good and comforting and she hadn’t realized how sorely she needed this comfort until she had it. They were there in silence until she pulled away again. “I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. I was just waiting for the dam to burst.” He moved from in front of her and leaned against the bed next to her. “Groceries arrived while you were asleep. I figure I got most of your favourites. You can tell me what else to get. But I’ll handle the cooking right now. Curl up with Toby for a bit.”

“Alright,” she said, reaching behind her to pet Toby. Her cat moved around her and settled on her lap, and she picked him up and held him close when she went to lay back down on the bed. Seb drifted from the room as quietly as he had come in, leaving her alone with her cats and her thoughts.

Chapter 5

Molly finally got her first look at the kitchen a day later, when she woke up to see the bed was empty again. Seb had taken care of all the cooking the day before, or it had been her choices in takeaway that he’d brought upstairs. She’d hoped to pay him back for his hospitality and kindness with breakfast in bed but alas, that was not to be.

The fluffy white robe was now hers, she had found, seeing it was draped over the chair in front of the desk where her laptop and a few other things had gone. She wasn’t using the laptop just yet in case Jim had done something to it, but Seb had told her to bring it so even if he had she assumed it was fixable. She’d barely looked at anything more than the foyer once they’d arrived because she was so tired, but she had the feeling Seb wouldn’t mind if she explored just a bit. She made her way back downstairs for what felt like the first time in ages and saw there were wide windows. She knew the house was set back from the street but it had been dark when they’d arrived and she hadn’t realized how much light was being let in. Not that the windows were easy to get to; the foyer was taller than both floors of her home and the windows were up high, almost like skylights.

She finished getting to the bottom of the stairs and saw, like the upper floor, it was mostly one large floor plan that was rather open, aside from what looked like a downstairs loo. There were shelves lining almost every wall and books on the shelves. She went and fingered a few of the spines, seeing that there was a large assortment of types of books, things she would never have expected Seb to read.

To be honest, she didn’t think he was much of a bibliophile at all, come to think of it.

The books lined every inch of the open floor plan, which seemed to be divided by furniture more than anything else, usually meaning smaller waist-high bookshelves. She drifted through the one area where there was a large flat screen telly mounted on the wall and comfortable sofas, then to a dining area, and finally a kitchen, where Seb was standing in front of the stove,

“You have a lot of books,” she said, awe in her voice.

She could see the corner of his mouth go up in a grin. “This is my home base safehouse. It’s the closest to home I’ve ever had, really, aside from the farm.” He turned his head and nodded to a stool by the counter. Molly went and sat on it. “I had no idea how to raise my sister and her siblings at first. I just knew there was no way in hell I’d let them turn out like me.”

“They didn’t, from what you’ve told me,” she said.

“No, thank God,” he replied. “They were in San Diego and I asked if they wanted to stay in San Diego or move somewhere else. Or Caitlyn and Charlie at least. They wanted to stay in North County, but the only place I had down there was the farm. So we moved there. I had it fixed up and made ready for a teenager, a kid, and a toddler and that was where they stayed when I worked. Babysat well, of course.”

“Of course,” Molly said with a nod.

“eventually I got enough saved up to get the farm up and running with the help of a good manager. They loved the kids so they stayed at the farmhouse with us. Miguel and Marina retired when Caitlyn took over, but they taught her and her husband the ropes. That was about six years ago. Caitlyn redesigned the farmhouse and designed the place Miguel and Marina moved to as a thank you for everything they’d done.”

“And I’m assuming you paid for the construction?” Molly asked with a smile.

“Actually, Charlie did. The kids adored them. I think Caitlyn still babysits their grandkids from time to time since they stayed in Fallbrook.”

“Your family sounds so close,” she said.

“Unlike yours,” he said.

“Well, my mum and dad are dead and my brother was estranged long before my mum passed,” Molly said. “I doubt he’ll realize anything’s happened to me.”

“The others will, though,” he pointed out. “Holmes and his brother know the truth and I’m sure a suitable story will be told to everyone else.”

“I suppose,” she said, her good mood dimming.

“When he’s gone, you can go back to that life, or at least some of it,” Seb said. “That was the deal I worked out with the Holmes brothers, that this was all temporary for you. I don’t know what your home will be like or whether you can go back to Barts, but I think Mycroft will pull strings.”

“Why would he? I was shagging the enemy,” she said.

“I think they knew, and they know what kind of person Jim is,” Seb said. “You were in deep from the moment he picked you to get Holmes. It’s hard to escape his clutches.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“Look at this as kind of a vacation,” Seb said, pointing the spatula in his hand at her. “I promise I’ll try and make it at least a little enjoyable.”

“You swear?” Molly asked, the faintest of smiles crossing her face.

“I do.” Then he nodded to the skillet in front of him. “Hope you want a full English. I’m starved.”

“Strangely enough, so am I,” Molly said, her smile widening. Maybe it would all work out after all if this really was temporary. She’d just have to trust Seb.

Good thing she did already.

#sebolly #molly hooper #sebastian moran #fanfic #fanfiction #commissioned fic #multipart: the paradigm shift #moran x molly #strangelock221b

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purrincess-chat · 7 years ago

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Lady Luck CH 5: APRIL FOOLS

After many months of waiting, I have finally updated Lady Luck! Read it below, and forgive me for taking so long!

FF | AO3

Chapter 5

Fading orange light shone over Paris when Marinette and Alya made their way down the front steps of their building, dressed for a night of dancing and singing to their favorite rockstar. For once they’d convinced the boys to meet them at the venue which allowed for a peaceful walk to the subway. Or rather, as peaceful as a walk could be with Alya.

“So, things seem to be going well with you and tall, blond, and handsome,” She said with a knowing, scandalous smile.

“We went to dinner once, and I’ve met him for coffee twice this week. I’d hardly say we’re in a relationship,” Marinette shot back, rolling her eyes a little.

“I never said anything about a relationship.” Alya smirked, and Marinette felt her cheeks flush.

“We’re just friends, okay?” She insisted, descending down the steps of the subway quickly, forcing Alya to keep up.

“That’s more than you were willing to say about him two weeks ago.” Marinette chewed her cheek at that, averting her gaze grumpily. “I’ve known you since collége, M. I can read you like a book. You like him.”

“I don’t have time to be in a relationship right now.” Alya cocked an unconvinced brow, so Marinette shifted her weight a little. “Only a little…”

“I knew it!” Alya beamed as the doors slid open, and they climbed inside the car and grabbed onto the standing poles.

“I doubt it’ll go anywhere. He’s super nice and charming and all, sure, but ever since we’ve started hanging out, he’s not nearly as flirty anymore,” She said, shifting her gaze down to her feet and pursing her lips. “Not that I’m necessarily itching to be anything more than friends, but it seems like he isn’t interested in me romantically.”

“Well, if you’re not interested in being anything more then why do you seem upset?” Alya cocked a brow.

“I’m not upset. I just don’t understand why he tried so hard to get me to notice him if he just wanted to be my friend,” She said, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“Boys are strange. If you want something more with him, why don’t you make a move yourself?” The train car slowed to a stop before the doors slid open, and they followed a crowd out into the terminal.

“That’s just it, Alya. I don’t know what I want. On one hand, I really want to focus on school and starting my career, but on the other hand, I’m finding that I also really want to kiss his face…” She bit her lip as Alya giggled in delight, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You have always been like this, girl. You need to learn how to multitask. You can do both if you want, ya know.”

Marinette considered it a moment, pursing her lips, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see that mop of blond hair waving them over with a wide grin, and she felt her cheeks warm a little. Even if she did make a move and they became something more, she wasn’t certain how much time she could devote to him between school and work. Of course she suspected that he’d be very understanding and supportive, but it mattered to her how much attention she’d be able to give him in return. She shook herself a little, pushing the issue away. Alya was right; she thought too much.

“Ladies.” Adrien nodded when they approached before fixing his gaze on Marinette with a warm smile. “You look nice.”

“Oh, thank you,” She said, glancing down at her dark jeans and fitted Jagged Stone crop top to hide the flush to her cheeks.

Nino and Alya greeted each other with a kiss, embracing tightly with affectionate smiles while Marinette and Adrien stood by awkwardly avoiding eye contact. Marinette never thought it was possible for two people to be third wheels simultaneously, but somehow it was happening.

“So, did you ask her,” Nino said softly to Alya, nodding in Marinette’s direction.

“Oh, no, I totally forgot!” She leaned her head back, scrunching her face up.

“Ask me what?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Um, well, I was going to ask if it was alright if Nino stayed over at our place tonight, and if you could stay at your parent’s house, but I totally forgot,” Alya said, tapping her fist against her forehead. “It’s too late for tonight, but would you mind tomorrow?”

“She can stay at my place tonight,” Adrien piped up, and all heads snapped to face him.

“I-I wouldn’t want to put you out, Adrien,” Marinette said, holding up insistent hands.

“I don’t mind.” He fixed his gaze back on her with a friendly smile, and she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

“I mean, if it’s alright with you, I don’t mind,” She said softly, rocking back on her heels a little.

“Thanks, bro.” Nino punched Adrien’s arm appreciatively, but Alya shot Marinette a questioning look, cocking a brow as if to confirm that her friend was truly okay with the arrangements. Marinette shrugged and waved it away to say that she’d manage, so Alya accepted it with an apologetic wince.

“So, shall we go in?”

The venue was loud with the chatter when they entered and found their place, and Marinette clasped the railing, glancing anywhere but at the boy standing beside her. Sometimes she hated herself for being too nice, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like she expected a similar night to Alya and Nino out of him, in fact the thought of it made her heart palpate, so she had no reason to worry, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he offered so quickly.

It was a question that plagued her through most of the concert, no matter how hard she tried to push it away and enjoy herself. The room was crowded, and she spent most of the night with her shoulder pressed against his, feeling the firm ripple of his muscles anytime he moved. It didn’t help contain her rapid emotions, and the only thing keeping her from kissing his face was the fact that she refused to look at him, even if that meant she caught sight of her best friend making-out with her boyfriend more times than she cared to.

“Is something wrong?” The heat from his breath on her ear, startled her.

“No, it’s- everything is fine- I’m fine,” She replied smoothly, offering him an unconvincing smile, and he frowned.

“Is it because you don’t want to stay with me tonight?” His eyes burned into hers, so close that she could feel his breath kiss her cheeks.

She dared to steal a glance at his lips feeling her stomach clench with longing. They were too close. Too tempting, and for a moment she thought she’d close the distance between them. More than anything she wanted to grab those chiseled cheekbones and kiss him senseless, but if she did, she’d likely never be able to look at him again.

“It’s fine. I just don’t want to put you out,” She said, blinking to clear her head.

“I promise not to do anything weird to you or fill your hand with shaving cream then tickle your face with a feather. I just wanted to help out.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Marinette rolled her shoulders back a little, plastering on a sincere smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He seemed to accept that as he turned back to enjoy the show, and Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, placing her hands on her hips to air out her arms. Why did he make her so hot? It was those stupid gorgeous eyes of his. And his lips. And that soft hair… She shook herself, blowing a sigh between her lips. It was going to be a long night.

After the concert ended, she and Adrien stopped back by her apartment to grab a few things while Nino and Alya took the long way home. They made useless chit-chat about the show along the way, and the moment Adrien veered up the steps of a tasteful little house, she stopped short.

“You own a house?” Marinette’s eyebrows raised in surprise as Adrien dug for his keys. “In Paris?”

“Yeah, I bought it myself when I moved out on my own,” He said with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Why?”

“Nothing. It’s just not normal at our age.” He turned over his shoulder and flashed her a grin as he opened the door.

“I’m not normal.” He gestured her inside politely, shutting the door behind them as she marveled at the grand foyer. “Make yourself at home. The guest room is up the stairs and down the hall to the right.”

Marinette couldn’t find words, so she simply nodded and quietly made her way up, feeling slightly relieved that he offered the guest room. It seemed as if her hunch about the nature of their relationship was correct. Adrien only saw her as a friend and had no intentions of going beyond that, and if she were being honest, she still hadn’t decided if she truly wanted it herself. Of course, Adrien was polite and sweet and funny and, who was she kidding, drop-dead gorgeous, but fashion was her life, and there was no way she’d ever give that up for some boy, no matter how lost she got in his eyes.

The guest room was spacious and well-kept, much larger even than her bedroom at her parent’s house. Everything was perfectly in order, except for the plump black cat sprawled in the center of the bed snoozing peacefully. She set her bag down on the floor and carefully sat down on the edge, stretching to stroke his long fur gently.

“You must be the grumpy cat I’ve heard so much about,” She said with an amused giggle when he lifted his head and licked his lips before a low purr rumbled through his body. “Plagg, was it?”

“His favorite spot is behind the ears.” She jumped at the sound of his voice in the doorway, and straightened up abruptly. “He seems to really like you. That’s rare.”

“When you said he was grumpy, I expected some resistance when I tried to pet him,” She said, scratching under his chin while his delighted purrs filled the room. “But he’s just a big sweetheart.”

“He’s a good judge of character. You’re a really good person, Marinette, and I think he can tell,” Adrien remarked softly, running a hand down Plagg’s back as Marinette’s cheeks flushed. He scooped the ball of fluff up and leaned back against the bed, holding him up in the air before lowering him down onto his chest and resuming petting with both hands.

She supposed that statement could be taken either way. Adrien thought highly of her, but did that mean that he had feelings for her? Her head was spinning, and seeing him reclined on the bed with a content smile while he stroked and cooed at his cat only made her thoughts race faster. She had finally found her one weakness: gorgeous men snuggling cats.

“Oh, would you care for some wine?” He glanced at her and cocked an offering brow.

“Yes, wine would be lovely,” She replied without hesitation, and Adrien sat up, plopping his furry friend on the bed before getting up with Marinette following in tow.

“I’ll bring it into the other room. Why don’t you pick out a movie you like?” He suggested, pointing through the arched doorway across the foyer.

“Okay.” She nodded, picking awkwardly at a loose thread on her pants before retreating to the impressively decorated living room. Everything in his house seemed so classy and expensive, and if she were being honest, she was a little afraid to touch anything.

She stopped in front of a large wall lined with bookshelves of movie cases, and she felt her jaw drop a little. Adrien owned a wide variety of classics, foreign films, romantic-comedies, action films, and a surprising number of anime, she noticed with an amused smirk. It was almost too cute for words, and she silently cursed him for being so perfect.

“Find anything you like?” He asked, pacing into the room with an expensive bottle of chardonnay. “I hope white is okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She blinked a couple of times to clear her mind before turning back to the shelf. “You’ve got quite the collection.”

“I spent a lot of time indoors growing up, so I needed something to pass the time,” He said while he poured their drinks.

“Well, it’s quite impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much anime in my life,” She teased, flashing him a playful grin which he mirrored, setting down the bottle and striding over to offer her a glass.

“Laugh all you want but Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club was a romantic genius,” He said with a smooth laugh, and Marinette took a big sip of her drink, hoping the alcohol would aid in slowing down her rapidly flowing stream of conscious. It didn’t.

“I knew you were just a big dork underneath all that swagger,” She said, swirling her drink a little.

“Guilty.” He nodded proudly, and she bit her lip before randomly selecting a case from the shelf.

“I wanna watch this one.” She held it out to him, and Adrien accepted it, taking a sip of his wine as he examined the cover. “Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. You didn’t strike me as the type to be into kiddie superhero stuff.”

She felt her spine stiffen, suddenly regretting selecting without thinking. “Oh, uh, I don’t, or I mean, I don’t mind them, but we can watch something else if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s been a while since I’ve watched this, but I always liked it as a kid,” He said, popping it open and pacing over to his oversized TV, and Marinette slumped onto the couch, hanging her head a little in embarrassment.

“It was Alya’s favorite too. She made me watch it with her when we were in collége,” She replied, taking another healthy sip.

“Now that I can believe,” Adrien chuckled, plopping down beside her and draping an arm over the back of the couch. “It has its moments. The writing was a little lackluster at times, but the characters were fun.”

“Alya had a whole blog dedicated to it. She was obsessed with the whole love square thing.” She eyed his arm anxiously before downing the rest of her wine which Adrien promptly refilled for her before returning to his position.

Relax. She told herself. His arm wasn’t technically around her, so it didn’t mean anything. Guys always put their arms over the back of the couch, and it didn’t mean he was trying to make a move or anything. Besides, as she’d come to learn the hard way, he was usually much more direct in his approach.

“Ah, the love square,” He remarked with a nostalgic sigh. “I was totally into LadyNoir.”

“Alya’s favorite was Brilix. Sometimes she shouted at the TV over it.” Marinette smiled, thinking back on it, remembering all of the crazy fan theories Alya would stay up all night telling her about at their sleepovers. It distracted her briefly from her current arm-almost-touching-her-shoulder situation, but it didn’t last as long as she’d hoped.

“It is kind of ridiculous to me that they couldn’t recognize each other’s voices in and out of costume though. I mean, Ladybug looks the same! At least Chat Noir had different hair,” Adrien said with a grunt, pursing his lips as the opening credits played. “But I suppose that’s a trope that will never die in superhero worlds.”

“I dunno, I almost didn’t believe you were who you said you were when we first met. I don’t think it’s that farfetched.” She nudged his side a little with a smirk, and he laughed at that.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They fell into silence as the first episode started, and Marinette took another gulp of her wine, feeling her limbs gradually growing heavier, more relaxed. Her mind was slowing down, but when she leaned back, she could feel Adrien’s arm just brushing the back of her neck which he made no effort to move. She needed more wine.

After another glass, she was feeling significantly looser, and her mind was blissfully quiet as she focused most of her mental energy in not falling asleep against him and drooling on his shoulder. It was a surprisingly good incentive, and after a couple episodes, Adrien reached for the remote and turned it off, stretching his arms above his head with a groan.

“It’s getting late. I should turn in. You’re welcome to stay up and help yourself to whatever you want,” He said with a yawn.

“No, yeah, I should go to bed too. I have to open tomorrow at work.” She stood up at the same time he did, wobbling a little, but ultimately steadying herself.

They walked up together in silence, but Adrien paused outside the guest room door and turned to face her. Something in his expression made her heart skip and her head spin, and she was grateful to have alcohol to blame for why she leaned against the door for support.

“Tonight was a lot of fun. I’m glad we got to spend so much time together,” He said with a sincere smile that made her cheeks warm. “I want to get to know you more, Marinette.”

“Yeah, I’d like that too,” She said with a slight nod. She really wanted to kiss him. Like, really wanted to, but she supposed that wouldn’t be something a friend would do. Then again, she’d chugged enough wine to not particularly care so much.

“Good night, Marinette.” His tone was warm and soft, and before she could think better of it, she placed her hands on his chest and stretched up to touch her lips to his, lingering for one brief, sweet moment before abruptly pulling away. Adrien’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he stared at her in bewilderment, but before he could speak, she shoved open the door to the guest room and disappeared inside with a half-hearted “Good night” tossed over her shoulder as she slammed it shut in his face.

She leaned against it, wincing at her own smoothness before stumbling over to the bed and crawling under the sheets, hoping to die of shame in her sleep. There was no coming back from this. She’d have to move cities, assume a new identity and dye her hair. She’d miss her old life.

As she heard Adrien’s footsteps slowly retreat up the hall, she buried her face in her pillow with a moan. Alya was going to get quite the scoop tomorrow.

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #lady luck #my writing #april fools!

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luke-got-me-feeling-hemmotional · 7 years ago

Text

Christmas (Preference #4)

Luke

“Babe, do you want all the boxes down? Like things that aren’t for the tree?” Luke yells from the loft. “Uh, yeah, please.” You shout back, from the kitchen where you’re starting dinner. Luke nods to himself, and grabs a box, climbing down the ladder and sets down the box on the floor. After a while, Luke manages to bring all the boxes down and they’re all placed by the tree. Luke begged you for you to allow him to put the tree up these past couple of days, but you said it was too early, so now it being the 8th of December, you finally caved and agreed. So whilst you were at work, he went and got the tree and by the time you were home it was ready to decorate. “You ready?” Luke questions as you walk in, wearing a Christmas jumper, holding a cookie you bought on the way home. “Sure.” You nod and open up one of the boxes. “We should really get some new decorations baby, we’ve had the same ones more or less for the past 3 years.” You tell him as you peer into the other boxes. “I did get a small collection last year, from when I was on tour.” Luke replies, taking a bite of your cookie that you’d almost forgotten in your hand. “You got like 3.” You deadpan and take some fairy lights out. “More than you.” He sassily speaks and grabs the other end of the lights. “Should I put some music on?” You ask, as you take out your phone. “Yeah.” He shrugs and starts to wrap the lights around the branches, as the beginning beats of Christmas Time (Dont Let The Bells End) by The Darkness begin to play. “Why do we have so many glittery snowflakes?” You question, picking out some things to hang on the tree. “This is gonna be a bitch to clean up.” You add. “Okay all the lights and bead things are on the tree, now you can add whatever you want.” Luke announces as he takes the few steps over to you, running his hand down your back. “Wasn’t this your mum’s?” You ask, holding up a shiny reindeer. “Something like that.” He nods and picks up some red tinsel.“And that’s that.” You say as you place the star on the tree. Stepping down from the chair, walking over to Luke to admire your work, and he slings his arm lazily over your shoulders, his fingers subtly copying the beat of the song on your collarbone. “Does it look right to you?” He asks. “I think so.” You answer, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Wait, I know what will make it right.” You claim and leave the room for a second, coming back 5 minutes later with the cat and a framed picture of Draco Malfoy. Leaning the picture against the trunk and then putting the cat under the tree, all she does is sniff it. “Really brings it all together.” You purse your lips as you admire it. “Yeah, totally.” Luke replies unsurely. “What’s next?” Luke questions. “I want to put some fairy lights around the front door.” You tell him. “That would look cool.” He agrees and picks up the lights, following you into the foyer. “How on earth are we supposed to get these up there?” You ask as you look up. Your house has got really high ceilings, one of the main reason why you bought it to be honest. “Edna.” You call the cat, she comes trotting up to you guys, and you lift her up, seeing if she can reach it. “No?” You question, bring her to your chest. “You did good.” Luke compliments as he stokes under her chin. “Why dont you get on my shoulders, see if you can reach it from there.” He suggests. “Could work.” You nod and put the cat down. Luke kneels down by the stairs and you stand on the third step, putting one leg after the after on his shoulder. “You ready?” Luke asks. “Yep.” You answer and let out a little squeal when he stands up. “I’m gonna trip over this cat.” He mumbles as he walks over to the wall. “Okay, this is good.” You comment after a while of taping the lights to the wall. “We’re a good team.” Luke says. “Always have been, baby.” You tell him and press a kiss to his head.

Michael

Although everything is nicely decorated at your house, seen friends and family a lot recently, pretty much everything is perfect, you can’t help but feel lonely. You’re asleep with half a cold bed, there’s only one plate on the table, there’s always plenty of room on the sofa, and there’s only your shoes by the door. You’re missing your other half. The one that makes everything okay. You knew when you started getting close with Michael that he’d be gone a lot, but that was a fact you were willing to take on. Saying that, it does make the time you do have together, a lot more special. The last time he went, you bought a dog so the house wouldn’t feel so lonely. It’s not like you can just join him on tour whenever you fancied, you were tied down to your job, and you loved it too much to quit. Usually you and Michael decorate the tree and around the house together, but this year he wasn’t around, so you had to do it yourself, and it wasn’t the same. There were no laughs, there were no kisses that made you forget all about it, there was no Michael wrapping tinsel around you, there were no boys that come over towards the end of it, and there were no Christmas songs sung together. You tried to get into it, but it didn’t feel right without Michael. He said he’d be home by the 19th, and when he told you, you both got a little upset, because this time of year is always special for you two, but sometimes things happen and you can’t help it. Usually you’re alright with him going on tour for a long time, but this last stint has just gotten to you. It’s not like you’re sad all the time, you’re just down sometimes, and you miss not only Michael, but all the boys. Today your whole family and family friends, were at your parent’s house for a family Christmas type thing, because your family is spread out all over the country, and some people want to spend time with their own family on Christmas, so it’s the only time people can get together this time of year. You’re spending Christmas with Michael’s family this year, so you wanted to have a Christmas with your own family. The majority of the time you were happy, interacting with everyone but now that the meal is over, and everyone is spending time with their partner or family, you feel lonely. Just sitting in the corner with your dog and your phone, watching everyone be with their loved ones. “(Y/N) do you want anything else to eat?” Your mum asks you. “No thanks, I’m still recovering from lunch.” You joke and rub your stomach. “Alright, love.” She smiles and asks some distant cousin the same question. “You alright kiddo?” Your dad asks, sitting down next to you. “Yeah, I’m just missing Michael.” You sigh, petting Buster your black Labrador’s head. “He’ll be home soon enough.” He reassures. Your dad and Michael have always gotten on, which shocked you because when you bring home a boy who’s got dyed hair, an eyebrow piercing, and multiple tattoos, usually it doesn’t sit too well, but they got along really well, they could’ve talked forever if you didn’t pull Michael away from your dad that day. “Yeah, it’s just this Christmas hasn’t been the same this year, I know it’s only the 14th, still quite a lot of time left, but I like spending Christmas with Mikey, this is the first time he’s been away during the holidays and it doesn’t feel right.” You vent as Buster begins to readjust himself right on top of you, then looks up at you, asking what’s wrong, making you smile as stroke his side. “When’s he due home?” He questions. “19th.” You answer and the doorbell goes off, making Buster whip his attention towards the direction of the door. “A little birdie told me something else, go get it.” He teases and you look at him suspiciously, but get up anyway, the dog getting up with you and following you towards the door. “Who is it Buster?” You get him all excited and he starts jumping around, wagging his tail and his mouth wide open. Opening the door, you look up, being met with the person you haven’t seen in 5 months. “Michael!” You grin and step outside wrapping your arms around him, his arms doing the same to you. “You’re actually here.” You breath as you pull back from him, but still having your arms around his shoulders. “Yeah, I am.” He nods, using the same tone as you. “Can’t believe it.” He adds, holding your sides tight. “But you were supposed to be home on the 19th.” You remember. “Suprise.” He chuckles and connects your lips with his, something you’ve both been missing since he left. Michael tucks you closer towards him by your waist as you kiss him. “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips. “I love you too.” You repeat, as you always will, and he connects your lips again, but before it can get into anything serious, you feel some paws jump up at you both. “Oh I’m sorry.” You laugh and stroke his head. “How could I forget you?” Michael cooes and kneels down on the floor, beginning to fluff up his fur. “Did you miss me?” He chuckles as Buster goes crazy. “Looks as if he did.” You comment and Michael looks up at you, a smile growing on his face. He wraps his arm around your hips and rests his chin on your stomach. “Did you miss me?” He asks. “A lot, a lot more than I thought I would.” You confess, and run your hand through his hair. “Well I missed you a whole lot too.”

Calum

“Charlotte, baby, stop eating the batter.” You chuckle as she sticks her hand in the bowl, with a a little chocolate around her mouth, all she does is look at you with a curious look. “Finn you wanna change the song?” Calum asks your son, running his hand over your back as he walks past. “Yes, daddy.” He nods and picks up Calum’s phone with tiny chubby fingers, the beginning tune of Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass by All Time Low coming on, making you chuckle. “How come Char gets to eat the cake and I can’t?” Finn asks as he sees his sister. “Because I’m mummy’s favourite.” She smirks at him. “Here.” You take a wooden spoon with a little bit of batter on it and hold it to his mouth. “By the time we put it in the oven, there’s not gonna be any left.” Calum comments, walking towards you guys, lazily slinging his arm around your waist. “Charlotte, stop eating.” You stifle a laugh and take the bowl from her. “Come on, babygirl.” Calum smiles at her, picking her up from the stool she was on, taking her to the sink to wash her face and hand. “Mummy.” Finn mumbles against your leg. “Yes?” You raise an eyebrow. “When’s uncle Ash coming?” He looks up at you. “Soon, baby.” You assure stroking his head. “Uncle?” Charlotte questions. “Yeah, uncle Lulu is coming as well.” Calum tells her. “But first we’ve gotta finish this so no more eating.” You add and turn around, beginning to tip the mixture into a cake tin, with the help of Finn. “Okay, who don’t you and Charlotte go into the living room, and play with your remote control cars.” You suggest, and Finn bolts off the chair and runs off down the hall, Charlotte shortly following him. “You look pretty.” Calum mumbles, pressing himself against you from behind, placing his hands on your waist. “Thank you.” You chuckle, beginning to fill the sink up so you can do the washing up. It’s Christmas eve, and all the boys are coming over, it’s kinda a tradition that they come over on Christmas eve and you all eat a lot of food, and the boy’s bring over a present for Finn and Charlotte. “You look pretty cute too.” You add. “That’s nice.” He mumbles against neck, causing you to lean to the left slightly. “Yeah.” You agree, turning around so you’re facing him, and wrap his arms around his neck loosely. “I. Love. You.” Calum says between eveey peck. “I. Love. You. Too.” You do it back, making him smile. You brush your lips against his, making him groan appreciativly, tugging you slightly closer to him. Calum smiles into the kiss as Fairytail Of New York plays in the background, suddenly a remote control car interrupts you as it drives into your sock covered feet. You pull away from Calum and look behind him, seeing Michael and Finn, Michael with a smug smirk and Finn with a excited smile. “We have visitors.” You inform and walk out of his grip. “Hi Michael.” You drawl. “Hi Y/N.” He copies your tone. “Hey.” Calum greets, picking up Finn, whispering to him and he walks into the living room, you and Michael follow him in. “Hey guys.” You smile, watching Luke interact with Charlotte. “Hi.” Luke greets and uses Charlotte’s hand to wave at you, making her giggle. “So how’s your- oof.” Ashton gets cut off by Finn jumping on top of him. “How come every time you come over you steal my children from me?” Calum huffs sitting next to you. “And me.” You raise your hand. “I don’t know, I guess we’re the favourite.” Ashton shrugs. “Right Charlotte?” Luke asks. “Yeah.” She mumbles, playing with his necklace. “I need to finish washing up.” You inform and get up, letting go of Calum’s hand. “I’ll help you.” Calum says and stands up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “No funny business.” Michael smirks and you give him the finger. “Y/N, you are around children!” Ashton scolds. “Yeah, my children.” You tell him and head to the kitchen. After a while you’ve finished washing up and putting everything away, with some help with Calum, although you would’ve gotten through it all a lot faster if Calum wasn’t there because every other minute he wanted to either kiss, cuddle, or dance to the music, and by the time you were finished, the cake was done and you got a small flutter in your stomach, and a small smile made it’s way on your face. You told Calum to go into the lounge as you decorated the cake, your nerves building up. “Mummy!” Charlotte squeals and runs up to you, wrapping herself around your legs. “Uh, yeah?” You raise an eyebrow looking down. “Luke was tickling me.” She mumbles, glaring at Luke and he just smiles smugly at her. “I want to be the favourite uncle.” Michael whines as Charlotte goes over to Calum. “Well maybe you’ll be the favourite for this one.” You suppress a grin, avoiding their confused gazes. You leave the room for a second, coming back with a cake that has icing on it that read baby #3. Placing it on the coffee table, biting your lip as Calum reads it, his face lighting up. You’d been trying for a while now but haven’t had any luck, it’s nearly been a year and a half since you’d been trying. “No way.” He shakes his head with a grin, standing up, coming over to you. “Are we really having another baby?” He questions, holding your arms in his hands. “Yeah.” You nod with unshed tears in your eyes as you smile at him. His smile widens and he brings you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your head. “How long have you known?” He asks as you pull back. “A couple of days.” You answer, wiping away the few tears. “I love you so much.” He chuckles and connects your lips together. “Hear that Finn and Char, you’re gonna have another sibling.” Ashton tells them as Calum presses a hand to your stomach.

Ashton

“Come on Y/N it’s almost Christmas!” Ashton encourages you as you look up at him from your laptop, unamused. “I know.” You reply, going back to your laptop. “You’ve gotta get at least a little festive.” He claims. “Hey, I wore red lipstick the other day.” You tell him. “Okay, a lot to more than that.” He emphasises. “I live in a decorated house.” You offer. “Yeah, that I decorated.” He huffs. “I helped decorate the tree.” I inform. “Babe, you put like 3 baubles on and a bit of tinsel then ate a load of Quality Street.” Ashton corrects you. “I’m so festive in the eating department. I’ve eaten so many chocolate coins, Santas, Quality Street, Celebrations, Roses, and so many mince pies. Get off my dick.” You say, making him laugh. “I’ll give you that, but it’s not the type of festivity I’m looking for.” He tells you. “What do you want me to do? Wrap myself in fairy lights every morning? Add a little tinsel to my outfit? Use baubles as earnings? Wear antlers 24/7?” You question. “Wouldn’t mind it.” He shrugs. “You only listen to 3 Christmas songs, which are All I Want For Christmas Is You covered by My Chemical Romance, Thank God It’s Christmas by Queen, and Christmas Time (Don’t Let The Bells End) by The Darkness.” He sends you a knowing look. “I listen to Wonderful Christmastime and Fairy Tail Of New York, thank you very much.” You explain as Ashton puts on some Christmas music, making you sigh. “Like, how can you not like this?” Ashton asks as Last Christmas by Wham plays. “I never said I didn’t like it.” You claim. “Then why don’t you play it?” He raises an eyebrow, sitting next to you, slipping an arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know.” You shrug, leaning against him. “I’ve known you for almost 5 years now, and you never get into Christmas, you might go to a Christmas party, but you don’t dress up, you just drink and socialize. Isn’t there a picture of you where Luke wrapped some tinsel around you and you look so unimpressed?” Ashton laughs. “I just don’t get it, I don’t get the hype, it’s one day that’s hyped up for 24 days, and it’s always underwhelming on the day, and there’s always so much pressure for it to be a good one.” You explain your view point. “I can see that, I guess. What about when you were a kid?” Ashton questions. “I was kinda the same, never got into the festivities, I just got excited for the presents.” You reply. “You rarely ever go home for Christmas, since we’ve been dating you’ve only gone home twice.” Ashton points out. “2 reasons for it guess. One because usually I was working over Christmas and all my Jehovah friends would come round and we’d socialize and throw a mini party. Then second because my parents always argue on Christmas, they always do, and it ruins the whole day, and in a sense it’s kinda ruined the whole season for me. There’s always so much pressure for them to not and you end up skirting around certain topics and you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.” You explain. “Aw babe.” Ashton glances down at you with sympathy. “It’s fine, I’ve used to it, it’s not as bad as it seems because me and my siblings have some fun on our own.” I shrug. “Where are you spending Christmas this year? Last year you spent it with my family.” He questions. “Uh, I think my dad wants me to go down, but none of my siblings are going, I’ll feel bad if I don’t go because they’ll be on their own.” I sigh. “You’re always welcome with my family, you know.” He tells you. “I know.” You smile and peck his jaw line. “Now let’s dance to this song.” Ashton smirks, pulling your laptop off your lap and placing it on the coffee table. “Nooo.” You whine as Ashton drags you up and into the open space, as It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The year by Andy Williams plays. You stand still, your arms dangling by your side as Ashton dances around you as if he was in some kind of tribe. “Come on, dance.” Ashton giggles, clutching onto your forearms, shaking you a little. With an eyeroll and a huff, you befins to shuffle your feet, joining in halfheartedly as you laugh at Ashton’s dance moves. “No, you can’t grind to a Christmas song!” Ashton whines making you laugh. “Let me lead.” You chuckle and begin to dance with Ashton, taking the reins as Ashton has a goofy smile. “You’re cute, my little Grinch.” He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “You’re cute as well my little Who.”

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victorineb · 7 years ago

Text

Alana Finds Out: Twelfth Night

The lovely @ishxallxgood suggested that it would be entertaining if Alana discovered a suspiciously Will-like ornament (as featured top right of the banner above) amongst Hannibal’s Christmas decorations. Thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3.

Alana glared at him. His stupid curls. His ridiculous puppy eyes. His perky little nipples. And as for those wings! Tacky as hell.

Alana was standing in Hannibal’s study, into which she had wandered after finishing stripping the ridiculously over-antlered tree in his foyer. She’d come over to help him dismantle his extensive Christmas decorations, Hannibal having insisted that they must come down before Twelfth Night. Alana wasn’t sure of the punishment for failing to meet this deadline (possibly Santa returned to take back all your presents for retroactive naughtiness) but Hannibal had promised lunch as reward, and she thought there was a good chance she could lure him into bed later, so she hadn’t hesitated to get in her car.

Now, as she held a rather large and completely tasteless ornament that bore an unmistakeable resemblance to one Will Graham (or at least a sparkly, half-naked, fairy-winged version of him) she was beginning to regret it.

She’d been surprised to find any decorations in here at all – it wasn’t a room guests were permitted to enter, and Hannibal seemed to keep the lights and ornaments to the public areas of his house. And the Will-fairy did seem so completely out of place, sitting atop the mantelpiece, that Alana had thought at first that someone must have left it as a prank. But as she looked closer, she could see that not only had it been placed with care, a space clearly made for it, but that it was perfectly positioned so that it could be seen by the person seated behind the desk. And as soon as she was hit by the image of Hannibal gazing moonily at this fantasy version of Will, she realised that it was the same look he always had on his face when talking to Will. Or looking at Will. Or occupying the same general space as Will.

Dammit.

Even after Will had tried to have him killed, it had been that same look: the twinkle in his eyes, the softness around them, the little smile at the corners of his mouth. Hannibal was utterly smitten, and pining away so earnestly he’d ignored his every aesthetic impulse and spent actual money on this hideous, chintzy monument to his crush.

Really, it was almost sickeningly cute.

She was pissed, of course, to have been used as some sort of… stand-in? But it wasn’t as if she wasn’t guilty of using Hannibal for comfort too, after the pain and stress of believing Will to be lost to them. But now he was out, and she’d been wondering why she and Hannibal were continuing this thing between them. The sex was good, sure, but her heart wasn’t really in it, and she’d always had the sneaking suspicion that Hannibal was holding back.

Which made sense, now.

Oh god, did that mean he was thinking about Will while…

As she tried to force down that horrifying thought, her irritation grew, and she snatched up the offending ornament and marched down to the kitchen where Hannibal was fussing over that promised lunch. Advancing upon the counter, she thrust fairy-Will right into Hannibal’s face and snapped, “What the hell is this, Hannibal?”

Hannibal blinked at her, slow like a cat, before an expression of mild bewilderment settled on his face. “Forgive me, Alana, I’m not sure I understand. I believe it is a Christmas ornament.”

“A Christmas ornament that just happens to bear a remarkable, if wildly unrealistic resemblance to the FBI’s pet empath. You and I both know Will doesn’t have a body like that.”

Hannibal suddenly snatched the ornament from Alana’s hands, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I truly have no idea what you’re talking about, Alana, but it is terribly rude to insult someone when they are not here to defend themselves. Besides which, I am sure Will looks perfectly pleasant without his clothes on.”

“Given that some consideration, have we?” Alana snarked, crossing her arms and watching incredulously as Hannibal began to stroke the Will-fairy’s hair.

“Not to mention,” Hannibal continued coldly, ignoring her question completely, “how extremely rude it is to wander the rooms of someone’s house uninvited.”

“Oh really? Because I think that pales in comparison to using one of your oldest friends as a sex substitute!”

They stared each other down for a full minute, Alana practically vibrating with rage as Hannibal continued to fondle his be-winged Will proxy. Then something in Hannibal seemed to deflate and he dropped his eyes to the counter, setting the ornament down in front of him.

“I must apologise to you, Alana. You are not and will never be a substitute for anyone. But I have not been honest, to you or myself.”

The sincere regret in Hannibal’s voice softened Alana’s anger immediately. “Hannibal… when did you buy that thing?”

“I… believe it was not long after Will’s imprisonment.”

“Uh-huh. And how much time have you spent staring at it instead of working?”

Hannibal hesitated, reaching out to pet the ornament again before catching himself and placing his hands flat against the counter. “I had to move it out of my office, it was distracting me during appointments.”

Alana stared at him and then burst out into laughter. “Oh dear, you’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”

There was a smile tugging at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth. “I think, perhaps, I do.”

“Even after…” she gestured vaguely towards Hannibal’s wrists, “everything?”

A sly smile slid onto Hannibal’s face. “It is always good to know one has the attention of one’s beloved.”

“God, I always knew you were weird but…” Alana looked at Hannibal, considering. “Can lunch wait for a bit?”

Hannibal looked mildly disapproving for a second but relented with an only-slightly-put-upon, “It will keep reasonably well in the oven.”

“Good.” Alana grabbed his hand, pulled him round the counter and started in the direction of the living room, calling, “Don’t forget your boyfriend!” behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hannibal snarl a little but snatch up fairy-Will as he went past.

Once they reached their destination, Alana shoved Hannibal gently into a sofa, ignoring his protests, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She held her finger to her lips, shushing Hannibal who was watching her with a sort of tightly-held panic in his eyes. Which increased to outright terror when the call connected and she spoke.

“Hello, Will.”

“Alana? What’s going on?”

She arched an eyebrow at Hannibal, letting the corner of her mouth curl in a little smirk as she said, in a deadly serious tone, “I need you to come to Hannibal’s house.”

Hannibal’s mouth dropped open and he made to get up off the sofa but Alana planted her foot directly in the centre of his chest and shoved him back down again, only barely suppressing her laughter at the outraged expression on his face. Good day to wear pants.

Meanwhile, Will was objecting from the other end of the line. “Alana, why… what do you need me for? You don’t even want me going near Hannibal.”

Alana rolled her eyes and enunciated slowly for the benefit of the oblivious empath. “I need you. To come to Hannibal’s. Now.” And then, just to make damn sure the idiot fish took the bait: “He’s been acting… off. Not like himself today. He’s-”

And then she cut off both herself and the call.

“There, that ought to get his ass in gear.” She looked down at Hannibal. “And we’re broken up now, by the way.”

Hannibal was openly staring at her, seemingly stunned. After a moment, though, he tilted his head, scrutinising her carefully. “Do you intend some form of reckoning, Alana? Because if so, I must assure you that Will has no idea of my feelings, nor any inclination to reciprocate. He has done nothing to incur your wrath.”

Alana set herself down on the sofa next to him, leaned over, and flicked him on the nose. This caused Hannibal to do a perfect impression of an offended cat, right down to the way he scrunched up his face, and Alana spent several minutes giggling at him as a result. When she finally calmed down, she put her hand over Hannibal’s – who was pouting even more than usual – and rolled her eyes. “Come on, you can feed me lunch and tell me how long this little crush has been going on. And in return, I’ll tell you why I think you’re wrong about that whole reciprocation thing.”

Around an hour later, they were just finishing a rather illuminating lunch (which left Alana seriously questioning her observational skills), when the front door burst open and Will’s voice resounded through to them.

“Alana! Alana!”

“He just barges in without knocking?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Hannibal had the grace to look sheepish at the implication.

They both turned as Will rushed into the kitchen, a frantic expression on his face and one hand on his gun holster. Alana was impressed – she must really have been convincing on that phone call.

Slightly out of breath, Will skidded to a halt and stared, his eyes flicking between Alana and Hannibal, evidently trying to work out what the hell he was missing. Eventually, he grimaced and snarled out, “Ok, if this is some kind of weird couple-bonding activity, I don’t want anything to do with it and I will shoot anyone who insists.”

“We’re no longer a couple, actually,” Alana replied mildly, watching for Will’s response with interest (as was Hannibal, practically falling out of his seat leaning forward to hear).

Surprisingly, he didn’t immediately start screaming in frustration, but simply looked from one to the other with cool incredulity, his gaze lingering only a second too long on Hannibal. “Fine,” he said, finally. “So what, then, the fuck?”

“There’s something we need you to look at, in the living room,” Alana told him, rising to her feet and beginning to walk in that direction.

“O… kay. Don’t want to do the dishes first?”

“I believe they can wait,” Hannibal told him, voice a little weak, which drew a suspicious glance from Will (possibly more for the mess left behind than the voice). He followed along easily enough though, flanked by Alana in front and Hannibal behind.

As they entered the living room, Will let out a little bark of laughter as fairy-Will – seated carefully in the middle of the sofa – came into view. “The hell is that thing?” he asked incredulously.

Alana ignored the question and pointed at the seat to the left of mini-Will. “Sit,” she ordered Will, who quirked an eyebrow but obeyed without question. “And Hannibal, you sit there,” she added, pointing to the right cushion. Once both men were ensconced in a fairy-Will sandwich, she took the seat opposite them and gestured towards the offending ornament.

“I found him sitting in pride of place in Hannibal’s study. Any thoughts about that?”

Will, yet again, stared between Alana and Hannibal with a bewildered look on his face, but received no explanation in return. Finally, he looked back down at his miniature doppelganger and smirked.

“So, you want me to figure out who put it there? I’m really better with murderers than pranksters but I’ll give it a shot. I don’t suppose you’ll have had Price or Zeller over for dinner, because they’d be my first-”

“Nobody left it here,” Hannibal reprimanded him, albeit gently.

“Oh, so you…” Light dawned in Will’s eyes and he looked away from Hannibal, chastened. “It’s… very festive?” he added, weakly.

Alana threw her hands up and made a very pointedly exasperated noise. “Look closer, Will. Doesn’t it remind you of someone?”

Inevitably, instead of doing as suggested, Will did that thing with his eyebrows instead. Alana wondered if perhaps it was some rudimentary form of communication that came easier to him than words. She was just considering developing her own dialect consisting of picking up the fairy and beating Will about the head with it, when Hannibal gently lifted it and placed it in Will’s lap. They shared a glance and Alana rolled her eyes for possibly the thousandth time that day, before Will turned his attention to the ornament.

He traced a finger along its curls, unknowingly mirroring Hannibal’s touch. Hannibal himself was watching closely, his entire being seemingly focussed on and yearning for Will’s reaction.

Eventually – possibly encouraged by Alana’s none-too-subtle toe tapping – he carefully set fairy-Will on the floor by his feet and then dragged his eyes up to Hannibal, a blush colouring his cheeks.

“You bought this… brought this thing into your house… because it reminded you of me?”

Hannibal hesitated for a second and then purred, “In fact I find everything reminds me of you, dear Will. Rare is the moment you are not in my thoughts.”

“O-oh.” There was a pause, heavy with tension, and then a tiny smile appeared on Will’s face. “You know I don’t look like that without clothes, right?”

The noise that came out of Hannibal was one Alana had never heard him make before, nor anything remotely like it. It was almost a giggle, almost a whine, and Will looked equally as surprised by it until Hannibal leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

“Finally,” Alana muttered, averting her eyes a little. Or, attempting to: it became a little difficult not to stare when Will climbed into Hannibal’s lap and they both started moaning without any care for volume.

“Ok, you both are gross and it’s time for me to go.” She was reasonably certain neither of them heard her, given that Will seemed to be testing Hannibal’s reaction to hair-pulling (definitely favourable), and turned on her heel to leave. However, a thought struck her and she turned back to scoop fairy-Will up from the floor (carefully avoiding the bodies writhing on the sofa), and carried him out of the room with her.

“You’re coming with me, Will junior. You’re too young for that kind of party.”

#hannigram fic #hannibal fic #hannibal #hannigram #my fic #alana finds out #alana bloom #alana bloom is done with your hannigram nonsense

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