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heartsofbeskar · 3 years

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the red wolf

chapter one: two swords

oberyn martell x fem!reader

WARNINGS: mentions and descriptions of violence (GOT canon typical), talk of death, language

WORDS: 3.5K

EXCERPT: Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

A/N: this is in second person, but the reader insert character belongs to a canon house which of course implies physical characteristics, including her being white! (ik this is a problem for some reader inserts being coded white so i wanted to address it here)

masterlist

Your hands trembled as they threaded through the soft, red locks. You used to do this when she was younger, you recalled, when she couldn’t sleep or was feeling ill or had a frightful dream.

It wasn’t just a dream this time.

Her shaky breath was warm against your neck, and you pulled her head closer in against you. Tears fell down the front of your bodice and you swallowed thickly, as you felt a familiar burn behind your own eyes. You willed the tears not to fall.

“It isn’t fair,” came her voice, impossibly small, against your bare skin. Her hands gripped tightly into the dense fabric of your skirts. “He wasn’t a traitor.”

You shushed her gently, your free hand ghosting up and down her back. You longed for the days when she was small enough for you to collect her in your lap, hold her close to your breast, as your mother had done for you both.

Another sob wracked her body, and you squeezed your eyes painfully shut at the sound. You hated it, you hated this. How you couldn’t protect her, or your father, or your brothers, or anyone.

“Sansa,” you whispered, taking her face in your hands, tilting it up to look into yours. Your heart shattered again at the sight of her, skin glistening with her tears, eyes and lips swollen and flushed from crying. You rested your forehead against hers, thumbs stroking her over delicate features. “You cannot say those things outside of this room. Tell me you know this, please.”

Your voice broke on the last word, emotion clawing its way up your throat. You loathed to ask this of her, to harden her once trusting and open spirit even further, but you needed her to know it. You wouldn’t give the Lannisters any excuse to hurt her, too.

“I do,” she choked out, fresh tears spilling over. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her back into your arms.

Sunlight streamed through the window, the painted glass covering the two of you in an array of colours. When you had arrived in King’s Landing, you were sure it was the most beautiful place you had ever been. How could Winterfell compare to this sunlight and sea and splendor? But the longer you stayed, the more you saw that the beauty was but a thin layer, covering the stench of violence and greed.

“We are Starks, my sweet sister.” You resumed combing through Sansa’s long hair; you weren’t sure if it was a comfort to her or to you. “We will not yield.”

—

The great walls of Winterfell rose behind you, as your feet carried you through the tall grass that grew uncontrolled just outside the keep’s gates. Small creatures darted to and fro under its cover. A gentle wind blew across your face, pushing your hair to the side. You heard the call of a wild raven overhead.

Winter bounded past you, the direwolf’s strong limbs carrying him far ahead of you with ease, though his grey speckled coat made him easy to find against the late summer colours of the grass. He turned back to look at you, mouth wide open in a pant, then gave an impatient bark. You laughed, shaking your head.

“You know I cannot keep up!” You called out to him, as if he could understand your reply. But ever since Winter had been a small pup, brought to Winterfell by your brothers with the rest of the litter, it had felt like he could. All the time you had trained him, he had tilted his head at your affirmations and musings, and had burrowed into your side when you were upset. It was an inexplicable connection between the two of you.

He waited patiently for you now, tail wagging and legs bouncing in excitement. He always loved these excursions outside the walls, and it provided a convenient excuse for you. As much as you loved to blame Winter and his need to get out for air, the same desire always burned within you as well.

Your bow and arrow shifted across your back as you increased your pace. The tips of your fingers grazed across the flowers that periodically sprung up from the dense grass. You made a note to pick some on your way back, for Sansa and little Rickon. You knew they’d enjoy them.

The treeline seemed to swallow the sun overhead as you passed beneath it, relishing in the coolness of the air here. Of course, the air had become cooler and cooler with every day that passed now. Winter is coming, your father harped on. And he was right, as usual. The arrival of your first winter sent a trickle of excitement through your entire body whenever you dwelt on it. Mother and father and Uncle Benjen had told you stories of winter, of the endless white and sparkling ice which could drip from the overhangs in the courtyard.

Winter ran excited circles around you as you set your quiver against the ground. You signalled to him with your hand, a communication in the language only the two of you spoke, and he settled promptly down to the ground, back end still wiggling with excitement. But he knew the best was yet to come if he waited.

Pointing the bow at the ground, you pulled an arrow from the quiver, resting it and nocking it against the string. Hooking two of your fingers around the end of the arrow, you scanned your eyes across the shadowed forest floor.

Before long, a movement caught your eye. A small rabbit sat, just a few yards ahead of you, chewing on some of the greenery there. You brought the arrow slowly, silently, up to your eye level, barely daring to breathe, lest you scare timid the creature away. You gripped the bow tightly in your opposite hand. Bringing the string straight backwards to sit next to your face, you tried to envision the path once you released it. Taking one last deep breath, you snapped your fingers off the string.

The arrow flew, fast and long through the air, and finally — fell a few feet left of the rabbit, spooking it into running deeper into the woods.

“Shit,” you cursed, collecting the wayward projectile from where it had sunk into the earth.

“Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate that language.” A deep voice emerged from behind you, exciting Winter to stand and jump once around again.

“Father!” You gasped, whirling around. “I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t speak that way, I would never—”

He held up a hand to cut off your babble, a small smile settling on his time weathered face. “It’s alright. I have cursed too many times to reprimand it from any of my children.”

You mirrored his smile, moving to stand beside him. You looked down at your bow a little sheepishly. “I was just trying to practice a bit. You know how Jon and Robb like to tease.”

“I do.” He placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be out here alone, sweet.”

“I have Winter with me.”

He laughed at that, moving his hand now to scratch behind the ears of the direwolf still pacing eagerly between the two of you. Winter yipped in excitement, pushing up against his hand.

“Winter is about as ferocious as a newborn babe,” he teased. “The opposite of Greywind, might I add. Anyone but Robb approaches, and that wolf is on alert.”

“Winter just has a gentle heart, is all.” You drop to one knee, letting the direwolf nuzzle into your chest, stroking his soft ears.

“It’s not unlike the differences between you and Robb, truth be told. Strange, how you can share a womb with another living being, and yet grow to be so distinct.” He had a far away expression on his face when you looked up. You stood again, allowing him to grasp your hands in his.

“You’re not here just to chastise me for going beyond the walls.” You knew, too well, the expression on Ned Stark’s face when he had to speak of things he didn’t want to.

He nodded. “Sweet child … you know I have nothing but respect for you and your choices. But, I am afraid it has become an unavoidable truth. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we have decided that once we arrive in King’s Landing, we need to decide on a man for you to marry.”

Your face was impassive as you considered his words. You knew in any other family, in any other man’s house, you would have been wed as soon as you’d bled for the first time. But your father had allowed you to grow and mature past that, and you cherished those years, holding them close to your heart. You squeezed his hands.

“I know, Father. And I am happy to do my duty as the eldest daughter of the house. You needn't feel guilty — I know you won’t marry me to a monster.” Your lips quirked upwards. And it was true; you had the utmost trust in your father that he would choose someone kind, someone level headed. That he would make a match considering your wishes, too, and it would be a life you could grow to love a man in.

He sighed, shoulders sagging in relief. You wondered if the prospect of marrying his first daughter, his first child, was more difficult for him than it was for you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re a good daughter. But still a mediocre marksman; come, let me show you where you went wrong,” he said, picking up your discarded bow and quiver.

—

You longed to be in those woods now, with your wolf and your father and your bow. In your home. All the beauty and splendor and opulence of King’s Landing could never erase the horrors you’d endured here.

You glanced behind you, where Tyrion and her handmaiden were trying their best to implore Sansa to eat something. There was an impressive array of foods strewn about the small table, though your younger sister touched none of them.

As you watched, her handmaiden — whom you suspected was no handmaiden at all, given her incompetence at her job — rose from the table, shooting a glare at Lord Tyrion.

“She needs to eat,” she quipped, looking up at you briefly before she left, her light skirts swaying gently as she retreated down the garden path.

You turned and sat slowly in her vacated seat, saying nothing. Sansa didn’t spare you a glance, her eyes vacant as she continued to look at the table in front of her, not really seeing it.

“I can’t let you starve,” Tyrion implored. You bit back the remark on the edge of your tongue. How amusing it was to think of a Lannister caring for a Stark’s wellbeing. Even if it was the Stark he’d been wed to. “I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you.”

“How can you help me?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died.” This you knew to be true, as those past nights you had curled yourself around her, in her marital bed, unable to sleep, but equally unable to leave her alone in this place. Sansa continued.

“Do you know what they did to my brother? How they sewed his direwolf’s head onto his body?” You shut your eyes tightly, images of Robb coming unbidden to the back of your eyelids. His gentle smile, his awful jokes, his tenderness as you’d raised that very direwolf alongside your own. “And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the—”

“Sansa, please,” you choked out. You could not take any more, or surely the tears you had so desperately supressed for days would finally emerge. She sent a cool glance your way, but stopped.

Tyrion cast his eyes down; you could tell he was carefully considering his next words. Ever the silver tongue. “What happened to your family was a terrible crime. I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa … your mother would want you to carry on. Both of you. You know it’s true.”

Sansa didn’t make any indication she had heard his valiant speech. Good, you thought to yourself. She stood, hands lightly falling onto the edge of the table. “Will you pardon me, my Lord? I’d like to visit the godswood.”

“Of course,” Tyrion nodded enthusiastically, brows drawn together. The scar you knew he’d gotten during the Battle of Blackwater Bay was deep set above one eye. “Prayer can be helpful, I hear.”

“I don’t pray any more,” she said quietly, as she began walking away. “It’s the only place I go where people don’t talk to me.”

You watched her form as she walked away, knowing she wouldn’t want you to follow. Your heart felt like it was being crushed inside your chest at the sight of it, at the knowledge that you could do nothing for her pain. Nothing for your own pain, even.

Tyrion appeared conflicted, eyes looking between where his wife had now left, and you where you remained seated. You took a deep breath, straightening your back.

“You needn’t stay and pretend to care for me as well,” she quipped, jaw tense. “... my Lord.”

Another Lord, another Lannister even, would have struck you. But perhaps marrying your child sister had curbed that edge in Tyrion, for he said nothing else before taking his leave from you.

As he turned the corner in the path, you sighed, dropping your shoulders. You stood from the table, returning to your previous spot, overlooking the sea. You let out a shaking breath as you leaned against the short garden wall.

The sea churned beneath you, it's great waves smashing ferociously on the rocks below. It smelled of salt and wind and you tried desperately to fill your lungs with it, to wash away every other feeling inside of you.

“A wolf of winter in the summer gardens; a strange sight indeed.” A lilting, accented voice came up behind you. Turning, you saw a tall man adorned in mustard robes, accents of fine jewelry hanging from his neck, on his hands, wrists, everywhere you could see. His skin was tan, golden, in a way you had never seen before, and the top of his robe exposed the start of a golden chest. His neatly trimmed beard and hair were dark, but not as dark as his eyes, which bore into you now.

You noticed the red suns stitched into the fabric of his robes — House Martell. Your father would never forgive you if you forgot all those long lessons on the great families of Westeros.

“My Lord,” you inclined your head politely in his direction, willing your body into the proper posture. “You’ve arrived from Dorne, for the wedding I presume?”

The man raised an eyebrow at you, stepping closer, until he stood directly in front of you. One step forward and you would be in direct contact with the expanse of his chest.

“You paid attention to your schooling on Houses,” he said lightly. He reached down to grab one of your hands that hung by your side, bringing it slowly up to his lips. “I am Prince Oberyn, indeed of Dorne. Forgive my manners, but I do not believe I need an introduction to you, Lady Stark.”

His dark eyes held yours, as he leaned in further. You could feel his breath on your face. It was pleasantly warm, and smelled of … oranges? “I heard of the tragic events that befell your family, at the hands of your benefactors.” He spit the last word.

“I do not know what you mean,” you breathed out. You pleaded with him with your eyes, please don’t do this; don’t make me speak it where they can hear. “The Lannisters have been most kind and generous to me and my sister, more than we deserve even. My family …” You swallowed thickly; your skin felt hot despite the shade. “My family betrayed the crown, and has paid their price.”

Oberyn’s brows drew together in a worried expression as he studied your face. You didn’t look away from his gaze, holding him there, trying not to show a crack in the facade. He ran a light hand up your arm, and though he barely touched you, a shiver ran across your skin. It came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric there.

“Little wolf, I assure you that the Lannisters are no friends of mine.” Something dark flashed in his eyes, for only a moment, so fleeting you weren’t even sure it had been there. “They have ripped apart my family with their teeth, also.”

You felt that particular burn in your eyes, and you pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, willing it away. You eyed the man’s hand where it still sat on your shoulder.

“Yet you break bread with them, do you not?” Your eyes were glued onto his as they cast downwards. “You come peacefully to King’s Landing, you bring wedding gifts for King Joffrey, and you drink from their cups.”

Your breathing was heavy now, emotion you had pushed into the deepest parts of yourself leaking out. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. This was a Prince.

“I … I am sorry, Prince Oberyn, I should not have—” He cut you off, gently pressing a hand to the side of your face. The skin of his fingers was rough, calloused, no doubt from years of fighting.

“You do not need to apologize, little wolf.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here.”

The side of his mouth quirked upwards at that, one delicate brow arching. It transformed the planes of his face, and you found yourself transfixed on the shapes and textures set into his tanned skin.

“I do believe we are alone here, little wolf.” Teasing now, he used the nickname with purpose. You liked the shape of it on his lips, though you still fought the overwhelming urge to peer over your shoulder at whoever may be watching.

“You don’t understand, my Lord.” You shook your head again, and his hand fell from your cheek. “King’s Landing is a pit of snakes. And they are always — always — listening. You are a Prince of Dorne and I…” You didn’t finish. I am nothing but a stupid girl who waited too long to marry, is too old for the King, is tainted and stained with the stench of my family’s rebellion. I am doused in their blood, being made to drown in it.

Your palm felt wet, drawing your attention down. Opening it, you saw blood welling from the four small crescent shaped tears that now appeared in the delicate skin there. Oberyn’s eyes followed yours, and they softened at the sight, cupping your hand in both of his. They were so large around yours, and steady.

“I am a Prince of Dorne,” he said, his voice quiet, not looking at your face. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his robe, next to his chest. Gently, he wrapped it around the palm of your hand, seemingly unbothered by the blood which immediately began to blot onto it. Many moons had taught you that blood never came off. Tying it secure under your knuckles, he met your eyes, lifting your head with a finger under your chin. “And if this is indeed a pit of snakes, it is a good thing you are in the company of the Viper. Your words — all of your words — are safe with me, little wolf.”

You wanted so badly to believe him, to think that there was someone in this wretched place you could trust, outside of your sister. That a man was really looking upon you with kind, genuine eyes, for the first time since they’d taken your father’s head from his shoulders.

The sea crashed particularly forcefully below, startling you. He leaned back now, pulling his hands away from you, and you immediately missed their warmth. As if he had carried the Dornish sun within his very body, all the way to King’s Landing. He kissed your unwrapped hand again, briefly, and he sent you another smile before beginning to retreat, hands clasped behind his back.

At the mouth of the garden entrance, he turned halfway, face playful now. “I should like to make strolling in these gardens a daily habit whilst I’m here; there is so much to see. Would you care to join me in that?”

You nodded, smiling; a small one, but the first smile you remembered giving genuinely to someone in a long time.

A/N: aaah this was so fun to do that i ended up finishing it waaay sooner than i thought i would! so excited to see what people think!! also it will probably end up being oberyn x ellaria x reader bc... i love her and i love bisexuals

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories

#game of thrones #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #mywriting #the red wolf

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Fresh Squeeze 9

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic. Isabela, PR

Warnings: Cursing, implied drug use (marijuana), drinking, Anthony Ramos, Fluff. Poorly described performing, Plot. SMUT, Graphic depictions of sex. Mature themes and situations.18+. Dom! Daveed, unprotected sex (wrap it when you tap it folks), sex in da club, breeding kink.

Word Count: 5.5 K

Plot: It’s Linden’s birthday and her present is Daveed Diggs.

I PROMISE, my heaux, I meant for their first time to be all candlelight and rose petals and a nice bed, but… they just took over with their horny selves. Hope it’s okay. All mistakes my own.

Previous Chapter

------

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, you thought as you watched Daveed’s chocolate, muscled back retreat into his room.

Although you could feel yourself drawn to him like a magnet, you didn’t want to lose yourself to a relationship again. You’d worked too hard and come too far.

But this attraction was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You went to the kitchen, getting some water to quench your thirst. You decided to calm down by watching the waves as you drank.

In his room, Daveed laid out what he was going to wear, and take off, that night. He looked in his bag for his chains and then had a thought.

He opened his door to see you at the bar in the kitchen, drinking something and looking out at the surf.

Although he wanted to enjoy the view of you, he called your name and strolled out of his room.

“Linden!”

When you heard him call your name, you slowly turned around, not knowing whether to expect him to grab you and take you back to his room, or tell you that he’d decided that you should just be friends.

But all that anxiety was wiped away with that killer smile of his. You smiled back up at him hopefully.

You looked delectable to Daveed, but he came back out with a purpose. He nodded toward what was in his hand.

“Will you rock my chain?…”

He held it out, a 30 inch Cuban link chain that seemed kinda heavy. You looked at it and then at him, amused.

“What are we? In high school?”

Damn, Daveed sure did feel like it. You made him so unsure. So he played off his nerves and chuckled.

“Nah, far from it.”

But when he bit his lip you felt those adolescent butterflies that flew in your belly when your crush looked at you.

“I just like seeing you wear my stuff. Today it was….”

The vision of you wearing his cutoff jeans and fingering yourself while he talked you through an orgasm was making him firm.

“It was... Yeah.” Daveed gulped and mentally told himself to calm down.

Your face got warm as Daveed looked down at the chain in his hand and then held it out to you. You just stared at it.

“I dunno. What does this mean for this…relationship?” Shit, you were playing yourself. What made you say the “R” word?

You looked up at Daveed and his eyes lit up, even though he tried to hide it, you could tell. He just cleared his throat and made a joke.

“So, I just thought you could wear it tonight… It’s a loan. Not trying to give you any jewelry or nothing like that.”

His lopsided smile was everything. But you didn’t dare show how happy you were in that moment. But damn, you were happy.

Daveed didn’t want you to get offended like earlier, but he thought it was too late when he saw the pout on your face.

“You promised to get me some nipple clamps…”

All Daveed could do was stare at your lips; his mind blanked at the vision of you in sex jewelery.

All of his willpower was in this moment. He almost bent down and threw you over his shoulder to take to his room, but…

He laughed and smiled, all cool on the outside.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” HIs voice was an octave lower and your insides quivered at the tone.

You nodded at him, all wide eyed and ready to fuck. He cleared his throat again.

“Well, this is the best I can do. In a pinch.”

You flashed back to him manhandling you earlier, pinching and rolling your nipples just like you liked it.

A good Sir. So hot. And he had you right where he wanted you.

“So will you wear it?”

You reached and took the chain in your hand, its weight heavier than you’d imagined.

You looked up at him, then the chain, then back at him made him wish the night away so he could do what he wanted with you.

“Yes. Sir. “

The way you looked at him, innocent yet greedy. Damn he needed to fuck you. His dick pulsed and swelled, pulling blood from his brain, making him a little euphoric.

Fuck yeah. That hard dick dopamine.

You felt the control you had over him. The way his pretty brown eyes were blown the moment you said’ Sir’ did something you.

“If I offered to suck your dick, right now, would you tell me no again? I don’t like rejection, Daveed.”

“Linden!”

He grabbed you by the back of your neck and hip, and pulled you to him, pressing your barely clothed body to his, making you feel how hard you had gotten him through his swim trunks.

“You trying to control me is not going to work, sweetheart. I’m in control. As far as sucking my dick goes, I’ll tell you when, how and if you can even breathe.”

Daveed’s eyes searched yours, seeing the halfway here, halfway there look in your eyes.

He looked at your open mouth gasping for air and he took it, covering your mouth with his.

Then he pulled back.

“Got it?”

“Y-yes Sir.”

This time, the phrase served to calm him. He rested his forehead against yours. While he cupped your cheeks in his hands.

“Linden, are you SURE that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” He took a deep, ragged breath and looked down.

“I-I’m not sure I can control my…..baser tendencies with you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. I don’t want to think I’m…”

“Daveed, I’m grown. I know what I’m doing. I want this. I’ll take what you give me. I’ll take it all.” You smiled at him as he looked back up at you.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me. I don’t break easy.” You leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I told you what I like.”

You straightened up and stared straight into his eyes.

He knew you were trying it again. This time he just chuckled and kissed you on the forehead.

“Alright then. Patience….”

He didn’t finish the sentence because he just realized what he was going to add to the end of it. And he knew it was true, but it would just freak you out.

He let you go and then backed toward his room as you turned around and leaned against the bar to watch him go.

-----

An hour later, Ant, Rafael and Daveed were gone and you had showered and started to pick out your outfit for the night.

You decided that less was more, so you opted for a red bandeau top and jean shorts.

Daveed’s chain was so long that you could double it up as a choker, and you thought that was appropriate for the night.

You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard, so you threw your hair up in a messy bun and put on your gold hoop earrings.

Time in the sun had been good to you so you did minimal make-up. You surveyed your handiwork in the mirror.

You liked what you saw and if Daveed didn’t, well, it was his loss.

Despite your nerves, you reveled in the anticipation for tonight. But you also thought that you’d be okay if you just fell asleep in Daveed’s arms.

You cocked your head at your reflection.

What the hell was wrong with you? Did you want Daveed or not? Were you afraid of his dom ways or did they make you feel free? You didn’t know what the fuck was going on inside your brain.

So you just decided to go with what your body told you.

-----

“Goddam girl! If I wasn’t engaged, I would fuck you my damn self.”

You laughed at Jasmine whistling at you while Craig shook his head as you came out to them waiting on you in the living room. You put on your fanny pack and your high heeled sandals.

“Are you going to sing tonight, Jas?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not really feeling it, but I can't resist when Ant calls me up on stage. I’ll do one, maybe two.”

“Stop lying Jas. That silly grin on your face matches this bitch right here.”

You looked behind you because Craig was pointing in your direction.

“Who? Me?” The blood was draining from your face

“Don’t try it, you are already sprung on whatever Daveed did to you this afternoon. It’s over with. You might as well make wedding plans along with Jasmine.”

You shook your head, a little terrified at what Craig was saying. Jasmine and Craig were busy laughing but you were busy freaking out.

“No, it’s not like that…”

Craig looked into your eyes and saw that you were spooked.

“Okay, Lindy, I’m just kidding. Y’all just kickin it, I get it.”

He knew you were on edge. “Let’s get ready to go. I want to see a show and maybe find me someone to get sprung on .”

The mood was lightened a bit and ya’ll decided to depart.

-----

Three hours later:

You and Jasmine were turnt up close to the stage in a teeny weeny VIP section in the small club.

You had your drink in your hand and were feeling Anthony’s set. Daveed and Rafa were drinking and watching from the side of the stage.

“Why don’t you just go down there, take her back stage and kill all this tension, man.”

Rafael peeped Daveed clocking you.

Daveed grinned his shy grin at his friend.

“Nah, man. This feeling is everything.”

He made eye contact with you, winked and took a sip of his drink, sure that he looked cool even though his stomach was doing flips.

Rafa just smiled and drank some more himself, enjoying all of this playing out.

Craig was chatting some guy up at the bar and you and Jasmine were just enjoying the show.

Why do I push through the day/Like tomorrow's gonna figure it out, figure it out, figure it out/ Like someone else will figure it out, figure it out, figure it out..

You were singing louder than most of the crowd and Ant was laughing at you from the stage because you were loose and loving it. Your arms were spread out and you were swaying with the music.

Someone came up and embraced you from behind, swaying with you and you opened your eyes to see Jasmine’s face beside yours.

You grinned, turned around and started slow dancing with her, each of you singing and looking up at Anthony.

He looked over at Rafa and D. They just shook their heads.

He managed to finish the song before cracking up and said.

“Ay, where’s the bouncer, this chick is tryna steal my girl.”

Everyone looked at you when he pointed but you just flipped him off and then tried to kiss Jasmine on the cheek.

She turned her head at the last minute and you kissed her full on the lips. You two went with it and hammed it up for effect. It was a classic movie make out scene.

When you separated, Anthony was just staring at you two.

Daveed and Rafa came out on stage to get a better look and you could hear Craig shouting, “Get it, Ladies!” from the back of the club.

Ant’s eyes were wide and he said, “I think I just forgot the lyrics to all my songs.”

Everyone laughed and then he said, “But I’m having too much fun, yo, I don’t want my set to end, so let’s go “One More Hour.”

Everyone sang along for the intro and turned up for the chorus.

Let's go one more hour/ Lovin' this encounter/ Usually I'm gone now/I'm not ready/ I don't really wanna go

After that fun, Anthony called Jasmine up to the stage, and she gave you a wink as she went up.

It was so sweet watching her give him a peck on the cheek and him adjust the mic for her.

Jasmine’s voice. Was every. Thing.

You just stood in front of her on the floor as she sang on stage and you were just blown away. And when they sang together,

Cause they can write stories/ They can sing songs/But they don't make fairytales/ Sweeter than ours

You just about melted.

“Ok guys, we’re gonna take ten so my boys can get set up. Order a drink from the bar.”

Jasmine came down from the stage with you again.

“Our little smooch got Ant riled up! Zaddy gonna zick me down goot tonite!”

Jasmine was hyped and you laughed at her lust.

“Wingwoman activated!” You thought they were so cute together.

Her eyes were sparkling.

“Time to return the favor.”

Jasmine nodded her head and you looked behind you to catch Daveed checking you out.

She grabbed your hands. “Come up and sit in the wings with me!”

You knew what she was doing. “Oh no. I want to experience the show.”

“Trust. For the Boys, especially Daveed, you need up on the stage.”

You giggled, your drink and the fun getting you loose, and followed her on the stage.

Ant and Rafa approached. You couldn’t decipher the look on Anthony’s face.

“About you making out with my girl...”

He and Rafael looked at each other and Anthony broke out into a grin.

“Do it any time you like, as long as I get to watch.”

Rafa nodded vigorously as you and Jasmine broke up in laughter.

“Perv.”

You couldn’t handle Anthony’s antics tonight. Your nerves were everywhere. Rafa seemed to sense it and led you over to a stool.

“M’Lady,”

Rafael bowed and kissed your hand, keeping his eyes on you. You giggled.

“In all seriousness, though. You look amazing tonight.” His eyes were something.

“Thank you, Rafa.”

You smiled up at him, taking the fact that he was being extra smiley tonight. You could smell some of that premium PR indica.

Oh.

Rafael glanced behind you.

“Enjoy the show,” he said, before kissing your cheek and buzzing back to the mic.

Then you realized what was up.

Daveed was right there, standing behind you, radiating his heat.

"Hey.”

The subtle rich texture of his voice made the butterflies try to fly out of your throat, but you kept cool.

Daveed inhaled the scent of your hair. You were intoxicating. He didn’t need indica.

"Hey yourself."

You didn't turn around, but you could tell that he was smiling.

“I’m glad you’re right here for the set. You’ll be able to feel… the music so much more intensely.”

"Ah.”

Daveed moved even closer to you. You could feel his breath. He was leaning down near your bare shoulder and alllllmost kissing it, but instead coming so close as to cause a feeling to begin between your legs and travel up your spine to your neck which he was so close to.

The music started as he straightened up and began to say something in a low voice, meant for your ears only.

"I love what you’ve done with my chain. Looks like a choker. Beautiful. Makes me think about tonight.”

Your eyes closed, because those words were hot.

“Hmmm? What about it?”

You were trying to concentrate on Rafael hopping up and down. You were frozen to the stool, torn between wanting to hear what he was going to say and not wanting to at the same time.

"Mmmmm. About wrapping my hand around your throat and cutting off your breath while I dig out that indecision of yours. About making you so high that you forget about everything but us in that moment.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled a cleansing breath, because you felt like getting filthy. Right now. You decided to play coy.

"Maybe,” you responded. If you said too many more words, he would hear the trembling in your being. He sensed it anyway.

“Definitely,” he countered, so sure. You tried to get mad, but failed. You two remained in this crackling energy between you, even though you couldn’t see each other’s eyes.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, so you stretched and craned your head backwards to look up into his baby browns. You didn’t know it, but everyone in your crew was watching, mesmerized by the vibe between you. Y’all glowed together.

Daveed’s heart was beating an accelerated rhythm. He didn’t need to warm up with you here. Before he knew it he’d kissed you on the forehead, then jogged out on stage. He was so hyped.

“Awww!” Jasmine was smiling and clapping.

You rolled your eyes at her as the set began as she sat beside you.

“Don't front. I have never.” She looked you in the eye. “And I mean NEVER, seen D with anyone like that.”

You just shook your head. A little afraid of what she’d just said. You just pointed to the stage while she laughed at you.

——

You were very attentive as Daveed and Rafael worked the crowd. This was an entirely different side to them. You’d seen them act and seen videos of performances, but being here in person while they did music together was quite the scene.

Rafael’s virtuosity shined first. He performed “Bad Egg”, and you melted when he sang “Oxygen.” Then, Jasmine got out and helped

Jasmine helped the Boys out with “Program,” which was amazing and funny and awe inspiring. You and Anthony and Craig, who had joined you were busy jumping around and singing for the short song in the wings.

Rafa came off stage in mock outrage into your mini mosh pit. You were having a ball.

He grabbed a water bottle and raised his eyebrow at you.

“Wait for it.”

You had no idea what he was talking about.

Daveed took a swig of water and laughed into the mic. He cut his eyes over to you quickly and then back out to the audience.

“So I’m in a band called Clipping.” The crowd went wild. Daveed smiled as the opening noise of “Wriggle” came up on the sound system.

“We’re about to take a journey through some of our more ‘pop’ songs, if Clipping. songs could be called pop. That adorable fucking laugh.

And then it all changed as Daveed started spitting out words that you hadn’t noticed before tonight were highly sexual.

Is it tight enough, is it wet enough?..../You always hoped to experience domination/….ass up/ don’t move/ Don't move/ Get slapped/ Can't run/ Bring it back/ Tighten up/ Stay strapped/ Make it red/ Make it clap, clap/ Clamp that mouth shut, bounce for your boy

You tore your eyes away from him to the audience and saw that they were going crazy. You were hella impressed.

Everyone in this club knew the words or at least heavily vibed with the music.

And Daveed looked so happy, his finger indicating the cadence of the music and his smile getting wider and wider as the music crescendoed, then he started jumping and the experience was amazing. He rapped with his free hand and his whole body. He was a tall chocolate ball of energy.

The music started to transition to an all too familiar beat.

The minute Daveed spit the first line, the crowd went apeshit. He held his finger up to his lips and everyone got quiet.

Don’t move nothing/ Statue..

And this was the interactive part of the performance. Daveed jumped and moved so much that he was covered in sweat.

"Man, it's hot up here under these lights." Daveed lifted his shirt up to wipe his forehead. The crowd went crazy again.

You had never felt the urge to faint before just from a human being, but damn. You smirked as he glanced at you and ascertained your situation. He grinned, wiped his face some more and then took it completely off, throwing it toward the wings, right at you.

Everyone dove so that you were the only one in range to catch it, which you did. It was wet with his sweat and his smell and you struggled not to bring it to your face.

You trembled a bit as you stared at his sweat covered body, getting wet and just wanting to lick his abs clean.

Daveed transitioned into a medley, beginning with Work, Work,

Holler out your city if you ride for it/Let em know why you die for it…

He continued through the chorus,

“Get that work/Make that work work…”

and then transitioned to “Body and Blood” and then to “Enlacing.”

The lyrics

“Get your ass down to the floor,”

served to do just that. You were hypnotized by the rhythm, despite the subject matter, you were being seduced by Daveed’s tone and cadence.

When he turned to you for a full 10 seconds while performing, you were locked in.

He finished his set and you didn’t know how to feel.

Jealous of all the people screaming for him to bone them then and there?

Nah, you could certainly understand that.

Embarrassed that you felt like a groupie that wanted to take him back stage and suck his soul out?

Again, understandable.

You just didn’t know what to do with these feelings.

You looked over and your friends were huddled up whispering, and you were sure about you. You straightened up in the stool as Rafael and crew caught you looking. Daveed came off stage and grabbed the water bottle out of your hand. He stood there, just glistening and shit.

"I really like your thighs in those shorts."

Daveed wanted to trace the line that the shorts took across your thighs, but didn't dare do it with everyone watching. He just stared at them and thought they would look nice around his shoulders.

You flushed even hotter.

"Thanks, I get ‘em from my mama." You laughed with him. "I really like those guns." You were bold and traced a finger down his biceps. You felt his slight shiver and tried to hide a smile.

"Thanks, my Dad passed them down." He laughed again.

“Genetics, man. Thank God for genetics.” You were serious.

“Amen.”

Daveed lifted the bottle to you in a toast before taking another swig. He offered you some. He looked into your eyes and you knew he wasn't offering you just a drink.

"Yes please. I'm very thirsty. Sir."

You stared back at him. He held the water bottle to your lips, praying that his hand held steady while you tilted your head back and drank.

Daamnnn! Daveed thought. He wanted to give you something else to drink, but he still had work to do. Rafael was there to remind him too.

Rafa cleared his throat and nodded his head toward the stage. Daveed nodded in response and grabbed his t-shirt. You grasped to hold it fast before you realized that it was his and let it go with a little laugh. You watched Daveed’s body as he put his shirt back on and he winked yet again before he turned to go on stage.

Your panties were ruined. But you thought he knew that.

Jasmine came up beside you. “He did that shit on purpose,” you whispered.

Jas laughed and said, “Most definitely.”

You were doomed.

----

You thoroughly enjoyed Daveed and Rafa’s set and even joined them on stage for “Microdosin.”

As soon as they thanked the crowd, Daveed grabbed your hand and led you backstage to the dressing room. It was standard fare, as you looked around, and you went to the mirror to check your lipstick as you watched Daveed lock the door.

You turned around and leaned against the make up mirror counter, watching as he took his shirt off again. You just stared.

The sight of you standing there with those fucking wide, innocent looking eyes got Daveed even harder than he already was. He was rock hard the entire time during that last set, and he knew he gave a great performance.

“I just…”

He looked you up and down, then he moved quickly and grabbed your waist as you leaned back, hands bracing yourself on the counter. Daveed looked at you hungrily and even licked his lips. Like a wolf.

“I just can’t wait to get you back to the beach house.”

Daveed’s thumbs were on your belly, and as his hands moved up, they dug under your top, and not gently. You gasped as his thumbs insistently reached your nipples and pressed. You put your hands on his bare chest and there you felt beating a mile a minute. You looked at your right hand, which was over his heart.

“Feel what you do to me?”

You knew he wasn’t talking about his erection, which was pinning you against the makeup mirror. You looked up into his eyes and saw the emotion there. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you.

When you separated, breathless, Daveed was resting his forehead against yours.

“I want to take my time with you, but right now, I…”

You pecked him on the lips again.

“Daveed. Fuck me...now.” You started moving your hip against his, causing him to respond in kind.

"If I do that, I'm going to tear that ass up..." He planted a kiss below your earlobe.

You rubbed your palms against his nipples, rubbing in circles. You felt him shudder.

You could feel it in the pit of your stomach. "You promise?"

You looked him fully in the eye. Daveed reached down and hiked up your thigh so that he could feel the warmth at your core. He palmed your cheek and you turned your head into it, giving him a kiss. He put his thumb into your mouth.

“Just… wait… shit… suck… damn…” Daveed almost lost it as your lips enveloped his thumb and your tongue swirled around it. You sucked, hard and your saliva began dripping down his hand.

There was no logic in Daveed’s head. Only sex. He pulled both hands away from you and began fumbling with his belt. He grabbed his dick and started stroking, using your saliva to lubricate.

“Fuck, Lindy, I need…”

All you could do was stare. It was fucking BIG. Long and thick and everything you dreamed. The juicy precum you saw made you thirsty.

You put your hand on it to gather some with your own thumb and brought it up to suck. You closed your eyes as you tasted him. You moaned and then pulled off your top.

“Please, please, fuck me Daveed.” You were panting, your lips open. Daveed wanted to insert various body parts, his finger, his tongue, his cock.

“Shit, Lindy. I don’t have any condoms here. I purposely left them at the house…”

You smiled at him and started unbuttoning your shorts.

“You didn’t listen to me earlier. I can’t have kids, D. And I haven’t had sex since, you know who. But…”

You pulled down your shorts, turned around and presented your panty-clothed ass to him.

“I don’t know if you want…”

Daveed stared, practically drooling, still stroking himself and now, pulling your panties to the side and slapping his dick on your ass. He looked at your reflection in the mirror, grabbed his chain and pulled you upright so that he could speak in your ear. He pinched your nipple while he stroked up and down your slit from behind as he spoke.

“I want to hear you scream." His voice in your ear was deep and sexy.

You closed your eyes and moaned softly as Daveed reached in and inserted first one finger, then two inside you. Shit you were tight. He looked down at the sight of his fingers inside you.

"Nah, you gotta see this. This shit is beautiful.” His voice was so sweet, then it completely changed. “So keep your fucking eyes open.”

He pulled your hips back as he used both thumbs to open you up as he advanced the head of his cock to your cunt. It met the breach and he pushed tentatively, and when you both felt that he was thicker than an easy entrance, you both sighed. He retreated.

“No! Please please please please please! I can take it. I promise I’ll take it all!”

Daveed grunted. “Begging already.” He sucked his teeth. “ Lindy, we have such a long way to go.”

With a forceful push, he entered you. And it stretched painfully at first, but after that first split second, the transcendent feeling of him inside your wet canal, molding you to him like a glove, made you want to cry. And when he started moving...

“FUCK! This isn’t supposed to feel this good. Shit, Lindy…” you could feel his cock pounding inside you and you fully agreed with it.

“Yesssss! Daveeeeddd!”

Daveed started speeding up and going deeper and deeper, pushing your head down to the counter and pulling your hip back to meet his thrust and you began to scream when he started meeting your cervix.

“Lindy, don’t judge me by this first encounter. Because, I have to...” He grunted, because as he started to tell you, he started to feel himself losing control. “I have to get this…” He moaned. “Shit, I NEED to get this nut.”

“Fill me up Daveed. I want your cum.”

With that, he slapped your ass cheek hard, and that delicious pain added to your pleasure as he started fucking you like he hated you. You threw it back and Daveed went crazy.

The mirror started banging against the wall.

You were lost as your screams and moans were surely able to be heard by anyone who would listen. But neither of you cared.

He pulled your hair and forced you to look at him in the mirror. He felt himself about to bust, but he wasn’t going out like that.

“You gonna give me what I need? When I tell you to?” Your eyes were barely open and you couldn’t speak, but you nodded as much as his grip on your hair allowed.

“Good Girl.” Your pussy fluttered around him even more at that; he felt it and moaned.

And I don’t care how good it feels you better not come until I tell you to.”

“Fuck!” was all you could say.

“You like being a good girl for me?”

“Mmhmmhhmmhm!” You couldn’t form words. Daveed slapped your ass again. “Use your words, Linden.”

“I-I-I love being a Good Girl for you Sir.”

“Mmmmm You gonna take all this cum I have for you and wear it until we get back like a good girl?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I’m going to keep all your cum inside me Sir.”

“Good Girl. Good God.”

Your whole body felt like it was tingling and about to explode. Your legs were shaking.

Daveed reached around with his long arm and found your clit, the minute he pressed, your body convulsed.

“Ah, ah, ah….mmmm.” Daveed was trying to stop you, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Shit Lindy. Cum. Fucking Cum. Right gotdamn now.”

You shattered around his cock as he pumped into you, sending streams of cum against your cervix. That sensation and the fact that Daveed didn’t stop circling your clit prolonged your orgasm for a good while.

You collapsed on the counter, as Daveed continued to stroke softly, making sure his cum stayed inside of you. He watched himself go in and out, still semi hard, and rubbed his thumbs along the column of your spine as he blew air on it to cool you off.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He bent down and kissed your shoulder near your neck, causing you to arch your back at the sensation. Must be your spot. He took note and then slowly pulled out, pulling your thong back to cover your pussy. He bent down to take a look at the moisture seeping through the material and he smiled at it.

Daveed pulled his pants up and went into the bathroom to wash his hands and came out to see you dressed and adjusting yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met and you smiled shyly at him. You turned around as he approached.

“I am going to judge you by what just happened, because that shit was amazing.” You smiled up at him and Daveed was blinded for a minute, then smiled back down at you.

“You good?” he nodded downward.

“Yeah, gonna be a little uncomfortable keeping all of it in, but I will try.”

Daveed’s expression darkened. “You better do it. Or else.”

Your look was mischievous in response. “Or else what?”

“Don’t be a little brat.”

“Why not?”

“If you're going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

“How’s that?”

“Don’t push it Lindy.”

You just grinned at him as he tried to keep a stern look on his face. You were going to be his dom downfall. He was too soft for you. But you were making him hard again.

He caught his breath while you washed your hands.

What the fuck was he going to do? Daveed was in love with you.

------

Next Chapter

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years

Text

Slit Reflection

This is my entry for @jtargaryen18’s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Mine was Sam Wilson. Credit for dividers goes to @firefly-graphics. Check them out!

Summary: You’ve always loved Halloween, especially the haunted house at the edge of the woods. So happens when the ‘Star Spangled Trio’ enters the mix?

Pairing: Demon King!Sam Wilson x Black!Reader (Fem)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3,054

Warning: Kidnapping, Forced Marriage, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Stalking, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Torture, and Non-Con/Dub-Con Smut. You have been warned.

Back to Masterlist

You’ve always loved Halloween. It was your birthday and the haunted house at the edge of the woods gave the best spooks and thrills. It was your first Halloween after undergrad and this year was different.

The Star Spangled Trio were celebrity guests and they were bringing two of the old rooms back!

It took you six days to get a ticket. You tried getting one online, every shop in town, but got nothing.

Finally, a new face at the library took pity on you and gave you the last ticket along with a book on demon folklore. You thanked the new librarian and rushed out of the building. Had you looked back you would’ve noticed a smirk on their face and their sclera and pupils turning black and gold respectively.

Halloween—the day of your birth—was here, and it was shit. Your toothbrush broke, your car refused to start, the job that you desperately wanted was dashed by yet another rejection email, and both your student loan and rent checks bounced. You just need to get through today.

You missed the cutoff, but got in because the person working the line was a family friend. Anxiously, you wait in line wondering how the haunted house in your small ass town managed to nab the Star Spangled Trio when you noticed the excited expressions of the people leaving. Now you’re super anxious.

By the time you entered the haunted house, you’re doing the breathing exercises to calm yourself. This was it! You were finally going to meet your all time heroes (and possible spank bank entries)!

The first few rooms were your typical haunted house fare which you loved, but were secondary to your excitement in seeing your heroes. Maybe you could get an autograph and hug from them!

You were about to follow the person in front of you into the haunted house’s hospital room when you noticed a light flickering to your left. It revealed a door done in the Neo-classical design with some Latin text engraved in the middle (had you studied Latin , you would’ve known that the text read “Reveal yourself, my beloved”).

Opening the door, you saw that it lead to the Hall of Mirrors. This part of the haunted house was always a favorite of yours, but both the itinerary and the ticket worker said that it was closed this year. The hall itself was chillingly quite and pristine as if no one else had stepped foot inside this season.

All of the mirrors looked standard for the haunted house; some of them made you laugh or briefly catch your breath. The one at the end of the hall caught you off-guard. It was at least 12ft (about 3.66m) high with intricate carvings of characters out of dark folklore and a single diagonal slit.

You were about to turn away when you saw nothing thinking it was a small haunted house joke at your expense when the mirror flashed.

In your place was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, but it still looked like you..sort of. Your hair was long, luxurious and gently flowing. Your eyebrows, eyelashes, and nails were immaculate. Your nose was adorably broad and your lips were sensually full (the type of full women would shell hundred’s if not thousands of dollars for). You wore a diadem with thick gold chains ladened with diamonds, onyx, and rubies and around your neck was a ruby and onyx amulet. You were dressed in a loose, yet sleeveless form-fitting Vivaldi red gown with hints of fiery red and a thin rosewood colored shoulder veil connected to the dress by a ruby broach in the middle of your cleavage.

You looked about four or five inches taller and the mirror version of you made you feel nervous about your curves being out on display.

Curious, you reached out to touch the mirror. Your hand was less than a centimeter away when your mirrored self opened it eyes. Suddenly, it grew curved horns and its eyes glowed pale gold.

The mirrored version of you grabbed your outstretched arm and dragged you through the mirror all while you screamed hoping someone would come to your rescue, but to no avail.

Samael, or ‘Sam’ was notified of your departure and the trio had to excuse themselves from the festivities to congratulate Sam on finding his bride.

You woke up with a start and shout clawing the air but stopped once you realized that you weren’t falling anymore. Instead, you were in a huge, opulent room filled with treasures that not even Windsor Castle had. Curiosity seemed to have taken hold of you because you walked out onto the connecting balcony to find that you were on a different planet/dimension/realm, whatever!

There were floating landmasses (the smallest of which was the size of your small town) and five planets ranging from Moonbow Gold to Venetian Red in color.

You thought about where the fuck you were and how you could get back home when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

The source of the voice was a demon with Antique Ruby skin with reddish gray undertones and Cinnabar and Rosewood colored hair. She had two short outward curved horns with a gold chain and aquamarine teardrop connecting them. Her eyes were an inviting aqua blue eyes with a dark red sclera.

“Hello! My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Sherry. I’m your Lady in Waiting. I’ve brought some food.” Sherry offered as she set the tray of food on a small table next to a dresser.

You smiled cautiously at your new elevated handmaiden,”Do you know why I’m-”

“Oh, I almost forgot! We need to get you ready for your presentation!”

The Fuck?!

“What do you mean ‘presentation’?,” you asked as nicely as possible, but reality came out more like a demand.

Sherry stopped her ministrations and faced you,”Well, when the monarch, crown prince, or princess declares their mate, they are presented to the royal court,” she then returned to her task of finding a suitable dress for you not catching the mortified expression on your face.

This day can’t get any worse. Wait?

“What time is it?”

“Oh, yes, It’s pretty much always night here. The sun only comes out for three hours. Would you look at the time! Everyone’s waiting!”

“One last question,” you started as Sherry began dressing you,”Who am I marrying?”

“Why my second cousin, King Samael, one of the Three Demon Kings, of course!”

You fought the impulse to faint.

It took thirty minutes for Sherry to make you look unrecognizable. Thankful for her assistance, you followed the floating torches to the throne room. The throne room was an enormous room with high wide vaulted arches, delicately carved pillars and columns, and a small bridge connecting the ground at the door to the center. The court comprised of beautiful yet fearsome demons of all shapes and sizes.

The king himself was seated on a grand, ornate throne atop a huge dais with at least 25 steps. He seemed familiar.

As soon as you were passed the threshold, the king raised his head and everyone stopped talking and cleared a path for you. Several courtiers whispered as you striddled towards the dais. When you finally reached the dais, the king got off his throne and walked down the steps to greet you.

You almost face-palmed. The king was Sam Wilson! Or at least, looked like him.

Sam for his part was devastatingly handsome. He had a tall, powerful build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, muscular thighs, short well-kept hair and beard with surprisingly kind eyes.

“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” Sam uttered as he pulled you in for a hug. You could’ve sworn he sniffed your hair, but you didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Everyone!” The court turned to the throne,” Thank you for coming. I have finally found my bride. We will be married tomorrow night!” Sam exclaimed to thunderous cheers and applause. He slipped on a magnificent ruby and diamond engagement ring with a black gold band.

You could not believe this, “I can’t-,” you started, but Sam discreetly grabbed your wrist, “Pre-wedding jitters,” and led you to a side room.

You expected him to hit or yell at you like so many other royals in a similar setting, but instead he gave a sad smile and asked if you were truly happy in your old life. You thought about your crushing debt, little to no job prospects, both parents dead, no friends and you had to admit your life did suck, but he didn’t get to decide.

Disappointed, Sam casted a small compliance spell and pulled you in for a kiss. Your pupils blew out in lust and you lost yourself. When he finally decided to break for air, Sam stated that you will be his bride and he will not be denied any longer. You smiled and gave him a short but passionate kiss. He moaned but had to end it before he went too far.

Tomorrow night he promised himself.

He quickly called for Sherry to return you to your quarters.

Sherry woke you up the next ‘morning’ with a small army of beauty experts and maids.

“Rise and shine, Your Grace! We’ve got a bride to present!” Sherry proclaimed.

Damn it! It wasn’t a nightmare.

They managed to stuff you into a marvel of a wedding dress. It was a Torch Red long-sleeved mermaid wedding dress with soft yet detailed lace work made to look like an enchanted forest, diamond, dark ruby and pearl beads, and a floor length train. On your head was a black gold spiked sunburst goddess with deep ruby roses and a simple ruby teardrop chain that rested on your forehead, the ends of which were wrapped around your horns.

“Not even Lilith could compare, Your Grace!” Sherry gushed at her handiwork.

The wedding procession and ceremony was done in a swift fashion as Sam didn’t want to wait much longer. The vows were short as well. You wanted to object, call for help, anything but a voice in the back of your mind beat you to it.

A couple hours into the wedding festivities, Sam announced that it was time for he and his new queen to retire and led you to his quarters. It’s the fanciest suite you’ve ever seen dripping with luxurious reds, violets, and obsidian.

In all your awing of Sam’s quarters, you failed to notice him approaching you in only a simple loose shirt and trousers. He gently put his hands on your exposed shoulders,”Alone at last, my love.”

You recoiled, “Can’t we wait for a few days? It’s just…” you trailed off as soon as his jovial expression vanished replaced with something darker and hungrier.

“I’ve waited for so long to have you here with me, love,” Sam confessed while you moved towards the exit,”and I will not be denied any longer!”

In an instant, Sam pulled you in for a demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue past your lips moaning when your tongue tepidly danced with his own and from the sweet taste of your mouth. He pushed you onto a bed that had to three times the size of a California King and his lips moved jaw and neck, egged on by needy whimpers and moans.

He took his time ripping off your gown, enjoying the view like a child on Christmas, ”Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Utter perfection,” Sam murmured as he watched your breasts bounced free. He alternated between sucking and pinching your nipples with his hands and mouth,”I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered in your left ear and he continued to play with your breasts like a concert-level musician. All the while moaned and cried out feeling pleasure you never thought possible.

Once satisfied with his handiwork with your chest, Sam’s hands roamed over your stomach and hips followed by strategically placed butterfly kisses that made you squirm. He tore off the last of your wedding gown causing you to hiss at the sudden sensation of cold air touching your pussy.

You used your last bit of willpower to plead, “Please stop! I’ve never-,” Sam stopped and raised his head to look at you.

“I know, love. I’ll be your first and only,” and with that, he gives your folds one long, slow lick and growled at your sweet and tangy taste, “I’ve wondered how you’d taste. You’re even better than the best Kharian wine. I could get used to this.”

He dove back in and played your pussy for all it was worth. His tongue worked its magic stroking and circling your clit sending you higher and higher into euphoria. Sam kept you right on the edge of an orgasm, just enough to beg for release.

“Say you’re mine!,” you mewled in response, to blissed out to use words. “Say it or I’ll leave!”

“Please let me cum, My King!” you cried out when he thrusted two fingers into your pussy.

“That’s a good girl. Now,”Sam started as he vigorously rubbed your pussy,”cum for me, love.”

Your orgasm came like a tsunami and Sam made sure finish his feast.

You got out of your post-oral haze to see Sam looming over in all his naked glory. His body must’ve been made by the gods because it was divine. His frame was an ode to sexiness wrapped in sinful warm sepia skin.

Sam caught you biting your lower lip and cocked his head, “Like what you see?”

Damn that cocky bastard, but damn if he wasn’t right. Part of you wanted to fuck his brains out…and that was before you saw his cock. Standing proud and erect with angry veins, his cock had to be the biggest you’ve ever seen (not like you had much exposure, just a few pornos).

Sam crawled up to you, lifted your chin and gave a soft kiss on the lips sensing your unease, “Relax, love,” He then lined his cock to your entrance and slid in as gently as he could.

You hissed from the pain, he was just so damn big. Sam praised you on how well you fit around him like ‘you were made for him’. Once the pain subsided, you bucked your hips into his causing him to moan at the sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and picked up the pace, making his thrusts come out to just the tip was in you and slamming back into you. You cried out his name each time he filled you to the hilt, pleading with him to go faster. Soon he reached your G-Spot causing to orgasm again, this time with you crossing your eyes and coming with a squirt.

Not too long after your second orgasm, Sam came with an otherworldly roar and glowing bright gold eyes shooting rope after rope of thick cum into your womb. He then flipped you onto your stomach and forced you onto your hands and knees so that he could take you from behind.

He got ten orgasms from you, each one more mind-blowing than the last. Once he was satisfied, he let you sleep.

“Soon you will be round with my seed, and we will have many children. I can’t wait.”

Ah hour after you closed your eyes, Sam left his, now yours, quarters. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he orders the guards although, he’s confident that she’s not going anywhere with the way he hammered her.

He strode down the corridors until he reached the dungeon. There, he found a rather nice looking apartment-style cell with only one prisoner, your mother.

“I’ve taken your daughter. Do you want to see her before you go?”

You see, Samael, Mikael (Bucky), and Stelios (Steve) were demon warlords who began conquering kingdoms left and right 1200yrs ago. They fought their way to the last free kingdom, Kharan. By the time your grandparents were brought before them, they had killed your uncle, the heir to the throne. The king and queen begged for their lives and the kingdom to be spared.

The trio agreed on one condition: if the next child the queen bears is a girl, then she would be Sam’s mate (Mikael and Stelios already had mates).

The king reluctantly agreed. The queen gave birth four months later to a girl, but she was in demon form. The queen had two of her most trusted attendants spirit the child away to another realm and raised her as their own.

Sam had your grandparents slaughtered and razed Kharan to the ground for their trickery. No matter, he was immortal. He would bide his time.

Eventually, your mother was told about her true parentage and form. She learned to control her powers, found love and she too was with child.

Sam found her a week before she went into labor and said that it was time to collect. She promised you in her stead immediately in hopes that it would buy her some time.

It did. She was able to pass you, a cambion, off to a friend of hers who wanted a child but couldn’t conceive and gave Sam a fake baby. He had your mother thrown into the dungeons.

Sam searched for you, but discovered that your mother put a cloaking spell on you. So, he approached your mother with a deal: her freedom for you becoming his mate.

It took your mother three years of torture for her to say yes.

Once the spell was lifted, Sam went to work. He made sure your adopted parents had a little ‘accident’ when you were old enough to take care of yourself, made sure that no one would want to hire you, and saddled you with debt. He even got Mikael and Stelios to pose as ‘The Star Spangled Trio’ with him to finally get you to the Hall of Mirrors.

Your mother bowed her head in shame, “No. It’s best for her to believe that I don’t exist.”

Sam unlocked the cell door with a simple spell, “You’re free to go. Have a nice life,” and returned to his quarters to be with his mate and queen.

Your mother took one last look at the palace,”I’m sorry, my little moon and stars,” and disappeared into the night.

Taglist: @jtargaryen18 @threeminutesoflife @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @sherrybaby14 @opheliadawnwalker3 @life-of-yn @mcudarklibrary @marvelfansworld @imdarkinme @sapphirescrolls @samingtonwilson @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @pseudonymphet @dahkness @saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @chixkencxrry @anyatheladyclown @stargazingfangirl18 @saint-bvcky @cherienymphe @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @cockslut-padalecki

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notveryglittery · 4 years

Text

absolutely smitten

summary: sometimes your coworkers are ridiculously in love but too dumb to make a move so obviously you've got to give them a push in the right direction. wc: 4,700 / ship: roman/patton (royality) content: human au, actor au. patton-centric. some crying, some kissing. mutual, oblivious pining. confessions of ~love~! background talyn, joan, remy, and thomas. background brotherly moxiety, romantic analogical, and frenemies(?) moceit. janus is kind of an asshole (but that’s patton’s opinion dot vine). author’s note: so, sometime in october 2019, i saw this post by @sirasanders for the first time ever which was, frankly, a Crime. because it had been posted in february 2019 and the fact that i had gone that long without seeing/being tagged in a royality post? Illegal. anyway, i was struck with inspiration and began writing and sure it might have taken nine months but... here it is! i'm really proud of it! i hope you enjoy!

many thanks to @rosesisupposes for beta reading!! <3 read on ao3!

— — —

Patton was not a morning person. Sure, he liked the idea of sunrises and consistent schedules and having time to make himself a big breakfast. All of that, however, required waking up. So to put it more accurately, Patton was not a waking up person.

Usually, all it took was a cup of coffee.

Thankfully, that part was never something Patton really had to worry about. The sweet, sweet bean elixir was delivered to him personally each morning sometime after arriving on set. Something he did worry about, though? Constantly? Nearly every hour of every day? Just what exactly he and the bringer-of-drinks were.

Like… yeah! He and Roman were… friends? They were coworkers for sure, without a doubt, and Patton liked that a lot! Working with Roman never failed to brighten even his darkest days. Patton could arrive on set in the lowest of moods and sometimes all it took was one warm smile from Roman to melt the icy feeling in his veins. Sometimes, it was the way Roman would slide up next to him at the catering table, moaning about how hungry he was, asking for Patton’s opinion on what he should treat himself to. Sometimes, Roman would take Patton’s hand and lead him to The Sanders Couch and Roman would sit and then he’d pull Patton down onto his lap and they’d just stay there for a bit, Roman combing his hand through Patton’s hair and singing quietly… If Patton was being honest, that was the easiest and quickest way Roman helped him to feel better.

Just friends, though! Right?

Roman remembering Patton’s usual go-to orders from Starbucks didn’t mean anything. He was just being courteous. Maybe it wasn’t even that; maybe it was just Roman wanting to make sure Patton would be at his peak during their scenes. Actors had such bad reputations after all and the last thing Patton wanted was to be a nightmare to deal with on set. He was grateful, really, of all Roman did to help him!

He just wished he wasn’t so confused.

“Patton! Good morning!”

Okay, time to put all those confusing feelings away.

Talyn’s bright grin and brighter hair never failed to impress Patton. Maybe one day he’d learn their secret to feeling this energetic so early in the morning but until then, he’d just have to keep wishing for the day coffee chains lowered their prices.

“Morning, Tal,” Patton responded, unable to help himself as he reached out and ruffled Talyn’s colorful locks.

They grumbled and swatted his hand away. “I’d be offended that you don’t seem to realize how much time this takes but I don’t think you even know what a hairbrush is.”

Patton pouted and reached up to tug on one of his curls. “I’m hurt.”

Talyn huffed, a sort-of laugh that reminded him of Virgil, and rolled their eyes. “I’ll be extra gentle with your makeup to make up for it, then.”

Before Patton could express appreciation for the play on words, Talyn was swept up and away in a blur of blue plaid and orange. He was pretty sure it’d been Joan, given how they were scarcely seen without their tell-tale flashy beanie.

While interacting with Talyn had helped Patton wake up a little bit, he was already feeling the heaviness of being up early weighing him down again. The reminder of the scene they were supposed to be filming today probably wasn’t doing him any good, either. Not only was it going to be a lot of crying, which was already exhausting on its own, he and Roman were supposed to kiss. Patton was supposed to kiss the possibly-maybe-wouldn’t-it-be-nice love of his life.

His cheeks went hot at the very idea and Patton all but slammed his face into his hands and screamed into his palms.

“Easy, buttercup, wouldn’t want you bruising, hm?”

Patton lowered his hands and glared at Janus over his fingertips.

“Oops,” Janus smirked and stepped back. “Didn’t realize you haven’t had your coffee yet.”

Patton frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “Is it that obvious?”

Somehow, in the time it took him to blink, Janus had moved, loping around Patton with a contemplative hum. One of these days, he’d learn how Janus managed to get around so fast.

“Look,” he said, draping an arm over Patton’s shoulders and pointing, “right there.”

One of these days, Patton would stop falling for Janus’s pranks.

Today was not that day and so when Patton directed his gaze towards where Janus was gesturing, he was provided the very startling sight of Roman coming in from outside. He was practically glowing in the sunlight, his hair was tousled from the wind as if he’d rolled out of bed but left it intentionally disheveled, and they’d just made eye contact and so Patton saw clear as crystal the way Roman’s smile curled up so easily and prettily.

Oh no, he was so pretty.

Patton ducked out of Janus’s hold and bolted away, towards his dressing room.

That… could have gone worse? Yeah, he could’ve tripped while running away and face planted and made work super difficult for Talyn and ruined the whole shoot today and everyone would be mad at him for wasting their time—

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“I’ve got your caramel macchiato.”

Patton was going to melt.

“Extra extra espresso.”

Scratch that, Patton was already melting.

“Thomas said it looked like you’d need it.”

Wait, what?

Patton opened the door to handsome Roman, considerate Roman, lovely Roman, and spoke before his brain could get any more mushy at the sight of handsome considerate lovely Roman. “Thomas hasn’t even seen me today?”

Roman held the reusable tumbler out for Patton to take. “Extra caramel, too.”

Patton took the offered drink and if it weren’t for the fact that this happened nearly every morning, he’d surely have dropped it the moment his and Roman’s fingertips brushed. Thankfully, he’d gotten used to it by now. Mostly, his heart reminded him when butterflies took flight in his stomach. Right, yeah, mostly. Anyway.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then,” Roman said and Patton was probably imagining the soft earnesty in his tone. He tried to dial down his high hopes.

“In a bit, then…” Patton managed, smiling sweetly, before stepping back and closing the door.

By some miracle, he didn’t sink immediately to the ground despite definitely feeling like a melted marshmallow. Instead, he drained half of his drink and then finally let himself scream.

In a bit turned out to be a couple of hours. It wasn’t anything Patton wasn’t familiar with but that didn’t make it any less agonizing. An indie film meant a smaller crew which meant Talyn could do the makeup on only one actor at a time. Fortunately, the scenes today weren’t very extensive which meant less folks to work on. Unfortunately, the scenes weren’t extensive because they were all plenty aware of how emotionally draining they’d be and had essentially planned for it. Crying came pretty easily to Patton so he wasn’t worried about that part. It was the after: the headache, the puffy red skin, the sore throat.

Talyn muttered as they worked, wondering why they were even bothering with makeup when it was all going to be ruined by the end of filming, anyway. In the reflection of the mirror Patton was sitting in front of, he could just barely see Roman getting his hair fixed. He was gesturing, no doubt telling a story of some sort; Remy had to keep pushing his hands back down anytime they got in the way. Patton was sure the hairdresser was scowling as he worked. If anyone was less a morning person than Patton, it was Remy.

“I love that smile as much as the next, Pat,” Talyn said, sighing, “but I don’t need it just yet. I can’t work when your eyes are all cute and crinkly.”

He murmured a quick apology and schooled his expression into one carefully blank. Talyn got back to applying his eye makeup. It didn’t take much longer before they were finished and Patton was sent on his way to get his hair done next. He and Roman passed by each other and Patton did his best to not swoon quite so obviously when Roman grinned at him. This part went by considerably quicker given that Patton could no longer see Roman in any reflections and that Remy had no patience for anything taking longer than absolutely necessary. He was finished before Talyn was with Roman which meant Patton could head off to see their director for any final adjustments or tips.

Thomas looked like he’d been through the wringer and the day had barely begun. Patton was frowning as he approached, wondering if anyone had told Thomas that his shirt was inside out.

“Morning, kiddo,” Patton greeted, coming to a stop beside him.

Thomas startled, nearly dropping the script he was holding. “Patton!”

“Oops,” Patton said sheepishly, “didn’t mean to spook you.”

Thomas waved the papers dismissively. “Nah, I oughta be better aware of my surroundings. Especially with someone like Janus around.”

Patton scowled. “Yeah, he got me this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thomas responded and Patton did not like how cheeky he looked all of a sudden. “That one seemed more like a treat than it did a trick.”

Patton really wished he didn’t blush so easily! He couldn’t even try and cover his face because then he’d risk messing up Talyn’s hard work. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

“Anyway,” Patton interrupted loudly before Thomas could keep teasing him. “Has anything changed with filming today that I should worry about?”

Thomas shook his head. “Nah, we’re still all on the same page.” He hesitated. “Sorry that today’s gonna be so taxing on you guys.”

“I’m just hoping we can get it done in one take.”

“If you don’t, Talyn will have to fix you up again,” a new voice said, effortlessly joining their discussion.

“Speak of the Devil,” Thomas muttered.

“And he shall appear!” Patton finished for him before turning to Janus with a glare. “You know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Janus shrugged carelessly. “Joan’s looking for you,” he told Thomas, as if backstage and onstage weren’t small enough for Joan to find Thomas relatively easy on their own.

Still, Thomas shot Patton an apologetic look and went off to find his best friend.

In a near perfect match of their earlier interaction, Patton faced Janus with crossed arms and a frown. “Could you stop messing with me? I really don’t need it on top of everything else going on today.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re referring to, dear Patton,” Janus said sweetly, all faux innocence.

Patton tried to not let it get to him. The two rarely got along, even on their good days, and Janus knew this, which meant he especially delighted in bothering Patton on his bad days. There really wasn’t any reason for them to be like this except that Janus had been why Patton nearly missed his audition for this film and he’d never apologized and Patton was still holding a grudge.

“Darling, is he bothering you?”

Before Patton could react to the question, an arm slid around his shoulders. The body he was pulled against was warm and firm and smelled of cinnamon and oh no.

Janus was smirking wickedly.

“Roman,” he all but purred. “I would never bother the object of your affections. I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Patton.exe has stopped functioning.

The conversation continued, if Janus’s moving lips were anything to go by, but none of it processed for Patton. Roman’s what? Surely they weren’t talking about him? No, it was just Janus playing another one of his mean pranks. It had to be! Roman couldn’t like Patton back because if he did… well, if he did, that meant the kiss they were supposed to share on screen today wouldn’t be quite so one-sided and… and that would mean Patton’s feelings weren’t entirely unfounded… Roman did always bring him coffee. He was there for Patton’s low moods. His smile was sometimes so sincere and soft that Patton thought he might melt anytime he was on the receiving end of it.

Patton blinked and tilted his head up just a bit so he could get a better look at his knight in shining armor. Thinking back on it, Roman was often there to help save Patton from Janus’s crueler comments or jokes. He encouraged Patton through each scene, eyes bright and eager when the camera wasn’t pointed at him. He looked a little tense and Patton wondered if he was angry with what Janus had implied or… or if he was embarrassed to be called out on his feelings.

His gaze returned to Janus and he blinked again. Sound started to filter back in. Janus sneered at him.

“Back with us, then?”

“Alright, folks!” Thomas' voice rang out then, commanding attention. “Let’s get started! If we finish early today, I’m treating y’all to ice cream!”

A chorus of cheers followed as everyone moved to get where they needed to be.

Patton slipped out from Roman’s grasp and gave him a grin that he hoped wasn’t as shaky as it felt. In theory, Roman liking him back should have been a good thing. So why was Patton feeling so icky all of a sudden? Was it because, if it were true, Roman hadn’t been the one to confess? It was hardly fair of Janus to go around sharing other people’s secrets.

“Places!”

Patton snapped out of his daze to find Roman standing in front of him. He looked concerned.

“Hey, deep breaths, okay?” He took an exaggerated one to make a point and Patton found himself mirroring it. The slow exhale lightened the weight on his shoulders.

Patton nodded and Roman smiled at him. It was that sincere, soft smile that made Patton melt and, gosh darn it, hadn’t he already done enough of that this morning?

They hurried to their spots. The script was playing through Patton’s head, his lines and then Roman’s following lines, and Patton’s reactions to each line. He focused on the scene and the reason his character was upset and how it’d feel if he were experiencing it personally. One take. They’d get this finished in one take and then Patton could have ice cream and go back to his hotel room and take a nice long nap.

It was easy to forget everything that had happened earlier once he was onstage. Patton had no trouble getting into his roles most of the time; it certainly helped having someone like Roman opposite him. Roman was the best actor he’d ever had the pleasure of working with: self-assured and reliable and knowledgeable. The confidence he exuded was often contagious. The lights came on and out of the corner of his eye, Patton saw the red light flashing on the cameras. Roman winked at him and Patton only resisted giggling like a lovestruck teenager because Thomas had just called “action!”

It went as effortlessly as it usually did. Roman recited his lines with nary a mistake. Patton worked off of him easily, responses slipping from his tongue before the worries or fears of messing up could even try to take hold. The cast and the set around them faded away until it was just Patton and Roman - Patton’s character and Roman’s character - and this moment and this scene and these feelings. He could feel the tears spilling over, his heart felt as if it were being squeezed in his chest, his throat closing up with choked back sobs. Roman’s expression only aided in Patton’s despair; he never wanted to see Roman this miserable ever again.

It felt like a dream, the way Roman’s hand came up and cradled his cheek so gently and carefully. He wiped away a few of Patton’s tears with his thumb. He wasn’t sure which of them leaned in first, just that his eyes slid closed before Roman’s lips met his. Strangely, Patton’s first thought wasn’t incoherent screaming. It was that Roman tasted of peppermint. Then it was who knew kissing distracted so well from crying? Finally, eventually, it was incoherent screaming.

“And cut!”

They didn’t leap away from each other as if electrocuted, though Patton’s surprise at the reminder that they weren’t alone did shock him. Instead, they separated slowly, Roman’s hand drifting from Patton’s face to his shoulder.

“You’re… you’re a really good kisser, Roman.”

It wasn’t until Roman’s face went bright, bright red that Patton realized what he’d said.

“That was great, guys!” Thomas exclaimed, slinging his arms around them both and shattering the fragile space between them. “We’ll look over it real quick for any glaring mistakes but I think it went perfectly! We can fix the little things in post. I think you both deserve a break.”

“Thanks,” Patton squeaked, shooting up from where he sat. “Bye!”

For the second time that day, Patton bolted away and to his dressing room.

The door had barely slammed shut behind him before Patton was diving for the countertop he’d left his phone on. He was calling his second emergency contact and throwing himself into the pile of beanbags, cushions, and pillows in one corner of the room, all in one breath.

“Hey, Pat,” answered the low, rumbling voice of his brother.

Even if Patton had wanted to coherently explain what was going on, he couldn’t have. The words came tumbling out of his mouth without any sense and he kept cycling back to “kiss” and “Roman.” It didn’t help that he was half-sobbing, half-laughing, and all-panicking. At some point, he thought Virgil might have covered up his end of the receiver and spoke to someone else, but Patton was too flustered to be sure.

“Okay, bud, let’s take a minute to breathe.”

And so Virgil counted his younger sibling through several deep breaths, inhaling four and holding four and exhaling four. Once Patton had calmed down, Virgil asked him to repeat what he’d tried to say earlier.

“Oh. Ohh, right, that scene was today.”

“Virgil,” Patton said very seriously, pacing the room back and forth. “I… I think he likes me back.”

“Nooo,” Virgil responded and Patton frowned at his tone. “Really?”

“Why’d you say it like that!”

“Dude… Roman’s crush on you is as obvious as your crush on him.”

“His what?!”

“I’m sorry to say that you got all the gay disaster genes.”

“Tell that to your unsigned Valentine’s Day confession card to Logan.”

“Hey! We agreed to never mention that again!”

There was muffled speaking on Virgil’s end of the call and Virgil snorted. “Oh, that’ll be fun,” Patton heard him say in response. Before he could ask what would be fun, there was a knock at his door.

“Patton?”

By absolute sheer willpower, Patton didn’t scream.

“Answer it before I die of tension,” Virgil deadpanned.

Would it really be so bad if he did? After everything that had happened today, it really did seem like Roman might truly like him back… Sure, Patton wanted to bury himself into a hole and never leave out of embarrassment because of what he’d said after the kiss, but… It wasn’t like they were finished filming. Patton was going to see Roman again, whether he liked it or not.

“I’m hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay,” Patton whimpered. He was frozen a few moments longer, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I can come back later,” Roman said, voice muffled. “Or not at all, if you’d prefer that. I don’t want to make you uncomf—”

Moving faster than he thought he was physically capable, Patton dropped his cell, and lurched across the room. He yanked the door open to handsome Roman, nervous Roman, sheepish Roman, and acted before his brain could get any more conflicted at the sight of handsome nervous sheepish Roman. “Please don’t leave.”

Roman went from worrying nervously at his lower lip to a small hopeful smile. He looked… strangely vulnerable. Patton wanted to protect him from everything bad, just as Roman had supported and kept him safe in the past.

“Hi.”

“Uhm… hi,” Patton replied. After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped back and gestured for Roman to enter.

For the time they’d been working together, neither had been inside the other’s dressing room. Actually, Patton hadn’t gone by Roman’s at all; maybe his was the one with the star-sticker-decorated door. Roman caught sight of Patton’s Comfort Corner and sent him a curious glance.

“It’s better than a chair?” Patton answered with a half-shrug.

“It’s like The Sanders Couch,” Roman said agreeably.

“Did Thomas ever tell you the story behind it?”

“Which one?” Roman asked, laughing. “There’s so many. He has it sent with him to every filming location, you know. Apparently, it’s magic.”

Patton’s apprehension was falling away slowly but surely and he thought it amazing how even being near Roman had that effect on him.

“May I?”

Patton blinked, confused. Roman gestured to the corner.

“Oh! Yeah! Yes, of course.” Patton hurriedly responded, stumbling a little over his words.

“May…” Roman rubbed the back of his neck and Patton didn’t understand what he could possibly have to be bashful about before remembering oh, right, he likes me back. “May we?”

It felt like Patton’s whole body was submerged in scalding hot water. “O— okay,” he squeaked. Before he could melt on the spot like his jelly-wobbly legs wanted him to, Patton joined Roman in settling cozily amongst the beanbags, cushions, and pillows.

It was like second nature to them. Without even meaning to, Patton gravitated towards Roman, curling against his side as if it was right where he belonged. Roman’s hand was carding through Patton’s hair before they’d even fully got their legs positioned just right. In the time that Patton had made this dressing room his own, he’d added frequently to this pile, and he knew for a fact that there was room enough for two people to lounge on it without having to sit too close. As if he weren’t already in a tizzy, realizing how easy it was for him and Roman to be like this… Well, it was a miracle he hadn’t fainted already.

“So…” Roman began at the same moment Patton exclaimed, “I’m sorry!”

Naturally, Roman looked bewildered.

“I should have told you sooner,” Patton barreled on. He pointedly avoided looking up, instead keeping his gaze trained on his hands folded in his lap. “I was just… scared, I guess? Mostly of rejection… uhm, duh… But also of ruining this movie for you? I didn’t want to make filming difficult for… well, for anyone! And I didn’t want to risk doing that just because of my silly feelings.”

“Silly?” Roman echoed.

“And I know it’s not something I need to apologize for,” Patton continued in a rush, “but I’m still so sorry that Janus said what he said. A… about me being the, uh… your… Well, you know. He didn’t have any right doing that.”

Roman laughed, sounding a little incredulous. Patton wasn’t sure what part Roman had trouble believing. It was true, after all! The very idea of someone spilling Patton’s crush without his say-so was absolutely horrifying.

“If I’m being completely honest?” Roman began, shifting just enough that he could cradle Patton’s cheek in his hand and tilt his face up. “I don’t think I’d have had the courage to do it myself, anyway.”

He… He was being genuine, Patton realized with a start.

“You’re the most courageous person I know!” Patton argued.

“I am also terrified of rejection,” Roman amended.

“Now hold on, if I’m scared of rejection and you’re scared of rejection, then who’s flying the plane?”

Roman laughed so hard, Patton was jostled by it in his embrace. It was a sensation he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

“Regrettably, I think that Janus is our pilot.”

Patton pouted. “Don’t like that.”

“We might owe him a thank you.”

“Don’t like that!” Patton repeated.

“Well, how about something that you do like?” Roman suggested, still holding him so carefully, still looking at him with such a sincere and soft smile. Still, there was just a hint of trepidation in his tone, the tiniest bit of unease in his eyes.

Patton realized awfully late that neither of them had actually, completely declared their feelings yet. He sat up in a hurry, placing a hand on Roman’s chest, and taking a deep breath. He thought it might give him at least a moment to sort his thoughts so that he could give Roman the confession he deserved. He thought wrong.

“You!” he practically shouted. “I like you! So much! It’s ridiculous! It’s exhilarating and scary and wonderful and well, I mean—” He stuttered to a halt, dissolving momentarily into breathless giggles. “You’re so considerate, do you know that? You care so much and you have so many little ways of showing it! And oh my god, you’re the best coworker I’ve ever had. You’re so full of passion and dedication, it’s an absolute joy to act alongside you and, and—” Again, Patton paused, but this time it was thanks to Roman’s slack-jawed awe. Raising both arms, Patton took Roman’s face in his hands and squished his cheeks a little. “And don’t even get me started on how handsome you are.”

In the time he’d known Roman, Patton had never seen him speechless. Patton was worried that he’d broken him. The seconds ticked by until, eventually, Roman made a sound akin to a tea kettle whistling. He slowly leaned in and down until Patton had to let go, instead opting to wrap his arms around Roman’s neck. With his face hidden now in Patton’s shoulder, it became clear how hard Roman was shaking.

“Was that too much?” Patton asked quietly.

Roman mumbled something but Patton couldn’t have understood it if he tried. Maybe he just needed a few minutes to collect himself. After some time, Roman did emerge, looking a bit more calm. Patton hardly had time to worry what this meant for him before Roman pulled Patton’s hands loose from where they’d been curled in the hair at the nape of his neck and held them gently in his own.

“I like you,” he started, oh-so-seriously. “I think I like you more than I like theatre?”

Patton gasped.

“Hush,” Roman teased, stifling a laugh. “I wake up some mornings and make it out of bed just because I know I’ll see you. It’s so easy to exist around you. I’ve never felt judged or hurt by you; you’re exceedingly kind and thoughtful. I cherish all of our moments, whether candid or staged. You’ve brought stability to my life in a way I never expected and I can’t tell you how important that is to me. Your grumpy pre-caffeine face cheers me up more than the sun in the sky does!”

“You hush,” Patton muttered, only able to fake offense for a few seconds.

“When Thomas takes us all out for ice cream, could we share a sundae?” Roman requested and he almost sounded shy about it. It made Patton’s heart flutter.

“There’s no one else I would want to banana split with,” Patton quipped.

Roman dropped Patton’s hands and groaned, planting his face into his palms. The last of the tension in the air vanished and Patton finally felt like he could breathe a little easier. He leaned back a little, trying to keep it together.

“Aw, come on, that was really just the cherry on top!”

Roman’s response might have been muffled but that didn’t hide the sound of his grin.

Patton shimmied and wiggled his way out of the Comfort Corner until he was back on his feet. “I hope you aren’t considering Taking Back Sun-dae,” Patton said, putting on his best pout.

“Oh my god,” Roman managed before he broke and fell into a fit of laughter.

Patton gave in too, though he was slightly distracted by the sight of Roman so carefree and happy. That was another thing he’d have to get used to, he supposed… Not that he minded. In fact, Patton decided as Roman eventually got up and pulled him into a tight, warm hug, he was really looking forward to it.

#sanders sides fan fiction #royality #romantic royality #royality fan fiction #ts deceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #human au #dani writes

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Ticket Please?

Summary- 4.2k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Blood/Gore, brutal killings, swears.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. This is a 3 chapter story that will be posted within a few days of one another. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃

“What do you mean Bryce that you can’t come? You promised you would! When is New York State ever going to open Rose Red to be explored like this again Bryce?” You spoke into your cell phone while looking in the mirror, currently doing a french braid to keep your hair out of your face. Your expression reflected back at you was a mixture of fury and disbelief. You had only been talking about this charity for 6 months, and here was your boyfriend backing out after he’d promised to come with you numerous times.

“Something came up with Maya, okay? You know my sister can’t do anything without fucking it up. Besides it's just a house”

“Bryce, don’t talk about your sister that way.” You sighed exasperatedly before your voice dropped slightly conveying your disappointment “And it's not just a house, it's just the most haunted manor and grounds in New York. They had it condemned supposedly just for that reason! You really can’t come?”

“You know that shit isn't real. Sorry Baby, but why don’t you take one of your friends? How about that Karen chick?”

You gave a sigh and roll of the eyes, Bryce never bothered to get to know any of your friends, not like you did with his friends. “You mean Stacey? Her name isn’t Karen.”

“Well, she’s like a Karen.” He retorted with a condescending tone.

“Whatever Bryce, I’m hanging up now.” you snapped out, he was being an ass especially considering this entire night had actually started out as a treat to him from you.

“Hey, Hey, I was kidding. Take Stacey. You know I wouldn’t be any fun, I never liked Snowpiercer, remember?”

“That’s not the point Bryce…” you sighed again.

“Look, go have fun with Stacey, and tomorrow morning I will pick you up, we can go for a drive down the coast, just the two of us. Maybe have a long weekend in Hampton. How does that sound? I will even take you to that hotel you like. That one right on the beach with the view we stayed at last summer. We had fun there, didn’t we Sweetness.” now his tone was a hint of teasing and promise, and although you were still mad that he ditched you again, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest that he was trying to make it right.

You bit your lip remembering, it had been a fantastic vacation, and Bryce really showed you a good time without ever having to leave the room. At your silence he gave a chuckle of triumph. “That’s what I thought, I'm gonna call them right now. Have fun tonight baby.”

“Okay, but you better be here bright and early Bryce. Love-” Before you could even say the words, he hung up, and you hit the end call button, trying to get over the feeling of disappointment before you called Stacey. You could already hear what she would say, but as your best friend, she would be there. She always was. Dialing her number, you pulled out the tickets from your purse, allowing yourself a smile.

What could you say, you were a fangirl. Snowpiercer was such an intricate dark story, you had fallen in love with it the first time you watched it on Netflix. So when Bryce mentioned his grandfather was helping sponsor a haunted house charity at the town's resident creepy manor, and it was featuring several film sets. Including none other than Snowpiercer, you just had to have all the details. It even went as far as Bryce having his grandfather putting in a good word of how much of a fan you were to get you in. You scrimped and saved, Bryce as well helped you with paying for the tickets. You had really wanted to do this with him too. No, he didn’t share your love for the story, but he was your boyfriend and Halloween was your favorite holiday. It was something you two could have shared.

Oh well, next year we will do what he wants to do, you thought to yourself waiting for Stacey to pick up her phone.

A familiar voice answered, jerking you from your thoughts. “What’s up? I thought you would have already left for the charity function?” Stacey questioned.

“Slight change of plans, something came up with Maya, and Bryce can’t make it.”

“Big surprise.” the answer made you wince, cause this wasn’t the first time you called Stacey about Bryce. “You want some company? I can be ready by the time you get here?”

“Please?” you already had your purse over your shoulder and were heading out the door as she answered.

“Don’t worry girl, I got you. See you in a few.”

The line to get into the grounds was long, cars piled up as the two of you pulled to a stop. Stacey leaned forward to look out the windshield, giving a soft whistle. “Damn, they pulled out all the stops for this charity, didn’t they? Isn’t that the Rose Red Manor?”

“Yea, they were able to get it for the night from the Governor. Pretty crazy since this place has been condemned, they were supposed to demolish it back when Ellen Rimbauer’s grandson sold it to New York. You know the stories here, don’t you? Men die, Women disappear never to be seen again. The house somehow has random room built on out of nowhere. No one actually knows how many rooms Rose Red has, and the grounds are much larger then the records state.” You let your foot off the brake, easing forward.

“Shut up, that’s not true.” Stacey gave a shudder and you laughed, winking in a teasing manner. “How does a house keep getting bigger? I say bullshit.”

“It’s all just for spooks, the place is safe or else they wouldn’t let us on the grounds.”

“If I die Y/N, I’m haunting you.” Stacey jibed back, pulling up to the concession stand, and you rolled down your window.

“How many, and what set are you here to visit?” a tired voice sounded at you while you pulled the tickets out of your purse and handed them out the window.

“2, for the Snowpiercer, Curtis Everett set.”

The redhead took your tickets, her green eyes flickering to check them before she gave a slight smirk of perfectly painted ruby lips. She leaned forward, to look into the car. “Curtis Everett you say? A personal favorite of mine, the set reminds me a bit of home.” Your eyes flickered to her name tag, reading Natasha Romanoff, it sounded Russian, where it is assumed the train derailed at the end of the film. “Curtis is a bit intimidating, but don’t get scared, it's all a part of the show.” She stamped your tickets and collected bracelets, handing them back to you which you and Stacey both snapped onto your wrists. “Enjoy, and make sure you have those tickets on you. The Wilford on set will be looking to collect them. Bozhe, pomiluy tebya.” God have mercy on you.

Your brows came together in confusion at the foreign launguage and gave a nod. “Thanks?”

The woman smiled and snapped her window shut, ending the conversation. Pulling the car away to continue to park, Stacy wrinkled her nose. “What was that about?”

“You got me. I don’t even know what language that was, I’m guessing Russian?” You watch and follow the people directing you to park and are soon in your designated spot. “Whatever, you ready?” The uneasiness slipped away as you got excited, cause lets face it, Curtis Everett had been a crush for you since you saw the movie. And now you were going to see him, well the actor in the role, once again. From what you could tell this charity was an a-list kind of deal, cause after hours of scouring online, you found nothing talking about Chris Evans doing this function. Maybe Bryce was good for something, you thought as you got out of the car, and then chided yourself for being so cruel to your boyfriend. After all, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be seeing Curtis or the Snowpiercer set. While you two were walking, apparently the last ones in the queue, you pulled out your phone to send him a message.

Hey, Stacey, and I just got here. Miss you and Love you.

It wasn’t even a few minutes till your phone pinged back

Have a good time and don’t get too scared.

Smiling to yourself at the glowing screen, you stuffed your phone back in your purse and proceeded towards the front where you showed your bracelets.

“Ahh Snowpiercer, you actually go around back. Follow me.” Your host said as he led you around the side of the building, away from the last of the people disappearing inside.

“We're not going into the house?” you couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the idea, it was supposedly one of the most famous haunted houses in New York State. The well-dressed host turned, looking at you for a moment before putting on a suave smile.

“Since you are special guests, I’ll wait for you after your tour with Curtis Everett on Snowpiercer. Give you a proper tour of Rose Red. But I assure you, that you’re in for a better treat, this is a truly exclusive walk though as hardly anyone gets to explore this much of Rose Red. Did you know that Ellen Rimbauer also had a private train on the grounds? It’s not documented as extensively as the house is, but many strange occurrences have happened here as well. It’s rumored that a single match light can be seen running up and down the aisles. Workers will be glimpsed from the corner of your eye in the darkest shadows. The ones that have visited the train claim to feel extensive chills, and in the engine, ramblings and whispers of madness can be heard. Most assume it's the conductor, looking for his replacement.” Your host continued, while out of the darkness a massive ominous train loomed, vines all over it, and it almost had a skeletal appearance as windows were busted out of it, and it looked pitch black in all the openings.

“The workers used the train to bring in materials from the harbor to the construction site. And in 1903, a riot happened on the train, the crew claimed that they weren’t being compensated for the conditions, and they demanded better wages. When W. Rimbauer refused them, they put a stop to the train for good. Resulting in many deaths.” Your host led you to the front car, in which a pale man stood with a lantern and a single red rose he was twirling in his fingers, and upon seeing the trio of you, he promptly slipped the delicate flower into his robe and smoothed down his outfit. Giving a wave, he stepped down and you noticed that oddly he was wearing what looked like a luxurious robe, his bald head shining in the glow of the lamp. The more you studied him, the more you thought he looked exactly like Ed Harris in his Wilford role. You were about to ask, when he interrupted you with his own question to the host.

“Blackwood, this the Curtis couple? We were a bit worried you wouldn’t show up tonight. Which is a shame, as Curtis has been waiting for you.” He seemed to direct his answer solely at you, his pale blue eyes glinting gleefully at you, it was the only way you could describe it, but they still sent a shiver down your back. Ed Harris or not, he was a good Wilford, you thought to yourself as you tried not to let his act give you the creeps. Stacey pulled in closer to you, hooking her arm through yours and whispering.

“You sure we should go on this train? It’s pretty fucking creepy back here. And where is everyone else?”

Blackwood cleared his throat with a smile. “Now ladies, the Curtis scene was very exclusive. In fact, only you two were able to get tickets. Seeing how it’s away from the main house. But I’m going to leave you in the capable hands of Wilford here as I must return for the next group. I will be back soon to give you a house tour afterward. You ladies enjoy the fully immersed experience.”

Your host left you with Wilford, who lifted his lamp to show a path that led down the side of the train. “It’s just a way down here, Curtis will meet you inside, and take you on the tour of Snowpiercer. Now, remember, he will not be breaking character as is per his instructions. We want this to be as authentic as possible.”

You and Stacey follow along behind his seemingly smooth stride, both of you tripping up a bit although Wilford seemed to have no issues with the uneven ground. Both of you were panting a bit when he came to a stop, and held a hand up to a ladder, leading into the darkest opening you’ve ever seen.

“There are no lights inside?” You drawled out and Stacey braced her hand against the train to catch her breath.

“How the hell are we supposed to see? And climb in with heels? No one told us that this was going to be an expedition just to see a movie set.” the woman snapped out, and Wilford turned that gaze from you to Stacey, giving a cold smile.

“It will all come on once you're inside, everything is in its preordained place in Snowpiercer and we are allowing you to really see it all come to life. But before you two go on, can I have your tickets please? No one goes onto the snowpiercer without one.” His grin turned eerie in the shadows on the lantern he had brought with him, and you were quick to look away from it,

Fuck he is weird. You shudder, while searching your bag and handing over both tickets. He immediately put them in his robe and held the lantern up so you could see a bit better to get inside. Grasping the ladder, you start to climb in, Stacey following right behind, holding onto the back of your shirt. One you stumbled in, and Stacey did too, you both turned to look back out, expecting Wilford to follow you in, but the door slammed shut, and a shudder went through the train, hard enough so you both yelped, falling into each other.

“Y/N! What the fuck is this? We have to get out of here.” You could feel Stacey digging into your arms in a panic, and you stumbled back to where the door was, your hands slamming against freezing cold metal, your palms pounding on the vibrating metal.

“Why is it vibrating? WHY IS THE TRAIN MOVING?” You started to yell, and Stacey moved up next to you, also slamming her palms against the metal walls. Blinding light made you both yelp and cover your eyes, stumbling to land in a heap when you pulled your arm away from your face, blinking to get your pupils to focus. It was an empty train cart, windows that appeared to be filled with bright natural light lined the walls, and at each end, metal doors that have yet to be opened. Stacey takes the first tentative moves to stand up, pulling herself to look out a window and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“What is it?” You ask as you start to push yourself up to a stand, and she shakes her head as if to shake whatever she was seeing away, muttering over and over.

“What the fuck?”

You make your way over, and all you can see is snow. Snow and ice, speeding past like this train were actually able to run on a track. Buildings encased in snow, making way to nothing but white, everywhere. Even the windows had frost encasing around the edges, your breaths fogging the glass.

“How? What?” you question, beyond confused and rubbing at your face to look again. How the hell could this be? You go to reach in your bag for your phone, and look down to see it is gone. And not just your phone, your bag. Scanning the train, there was no sign of it. Panic settled in a little more now that you didn't have a way to call for help should you need it.

Stacey pressed her fingers to the glass, her tone a bit shrill as if she was trying to convince herself it was make believe. “Gotta be like we're watching a screen right? Just supposed to look like the trains moving.” Although the train gave another shudder, swaying back and forth.

You never got an answer, as one end the doors swung open and people wearing all black spilled into the train, all carrying axes, faces masked so you couldn’t see anything discernible about them. Except for flashing teeth among happy grins. Each one hefting their ax like it was a toy. Your confused addled brain screamed at you to pay attention. Danger. But you were in too much of a shock to really focus.

Another whoosh and you spin around to see who was coming out the other side, Stacey whimpering in fear next to you, still staring at the first group. But your eyes raked over these men, dirty and worn looking. The one in front had a wide stance, his feet braced against the rocking of the train like he was familiar with it. A black trench coat swept around him, ragged sweaters piled over a broad chest and your gaze fell onto a familiar hard face, scanning his opponent, drawing himself into a more fighting stance. Curtis Everett.

“Oh shit” it dawns on you what scene this was and you draw Stacey closer to you, and back against a wall.

“What? Oh god, I don’t understand what is happening.” Stacey said in a panicked voice, and you shook her a bit.

“I don’t know either, but stay out of everyone’s way, okay? Those axes are not fakes!” The weapons they held were clearly not props, the heavy blade handles slapped in palms, and gleamed in the winter sun streaming through the windows. A touch would easily slice into anything. And these two groups look ready to hack into each other.

“Shouldn’t they help us get out?” Stacey’s eyes rolled wildly, and you gulped, seeing the large trout get passed up, and just as you guessed, the ax easily sliced into the fish’s flesh, drizzling blood down to see along the edge, dripping down the handle and to the floor.

“I don't think so Stace…” You whipped back to look at the opposing group, feeling Curtis’s gaze seeking yours with a glimmer of hatred and confusion behind them. For half a second, then it was back on their enemies. You could see it, the taunting lunges each group made, and just when they both broke for each other, you screamed and yanked Stacey down onto the ground as they all collided. Attempting to avoid stomping feet and falling blades, you two tried to stick to the wall, screaming and covering your heads, blood splattering everywhere above you in hot sticky sprays that rained down on your two.

Stacey wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice piercing above the noise of the fighting, bodies started to litter the floor, and you tried to make your way towards one of the exits, your hands and knees slipping in warm fluid. Over bodies you dragged yourself when Stacey’s screaming changed to one of pain and panic. Looking over your shoulder, she was getting dragged away by her ankles, her fingers trying to find a hold in the floor, nails raking through the blood to create long rakes through all the red.

“Y/N! Y/N! Help!” she continued to scream, and you twisted to go back for her when she was whipped to her back and her arms came up in defense, trying to cover her face or neck.

“No!”

Whump! This is when you lost all your control and started to scramble back for her. There was so much screaming and you never realized it was coming from you.

Whump! The ax planted in Stacey’s chest and she jerked upwards, trying to push the blade away, and the militants foot planted on her stomach, yanking her loose. You would still see her moving, still alive. You were closer.

Whump! this one landed on her skull, blonde hair turning stringy red and his boot planted on her face this time, crushing in her forehead and nose as he yanked it out, once more red spray flew through the air.

Several whacks fell on her, over and over, spraying you with each yank the axe gave off Stacey's body, the militant man grinning as her blood sprayed all over him, you, any nearby person.

You were in shock, your hands to your mouth, as you saw Stacy's body collapse into broken pieces, blood spurting out of her mouth and she went limp right in front of you. His gaze fell to you and his wide bloody grin looked like he just won the prize, his axe lifting when he was suddenly thrown back and slaughtered himself. You didn't pay attention to who took him out, only catching sight of a whipping coat snapping in the person's actions, you turned towards your best friend's body, convinced she might still be alive. This was all just for fun, pretend after all, right? Snowpiercer and the Revolution did not exist.

“Sss-Stacey?” you crawled over to her, your hands cupping her broken face and leaning over her still warm form, doing your best to hold what remained of her face together, as if you could just piece it back together like a puzzle. You kept shaking her, although she had several gaping holes in her body.

“Come on Stacey, we got to move.” you sobbed over her, unaware once more of what was going on.

You didn’t notice the fighting stop or the survivors rush to look out the windows in a panic, but you did feel a hand yank the back of your shirt to slam you into the wall and keep you pinned in place. Even as you struggled to get back to Stacey’s body, lying lifeless. You didn’t notice any of these things till a growl snarled in your ear. “Girl, stop it! What’s wrong with you?” A vicious shake thudded your head against the wall, and the crack against the back of your skull made your eyes roll back in pain. The world tipped upside down, Curtis’s scowling cut face tipped around, and you went under, the blackness welcomed from the hell you just experienced.

“Hey Curtis, she’s awake.” was the first thing you heard, your head pounding and when you started to pry your lids open, figures were blurry, moving around, flashes of light blinding you till they were blocked back out by bodies. You gave a moan and lifted your hand to your face when the larger one slapped it away, and the cold slick hand grasped your throat, dragging you forward. “Focus Bitch, we don’t have all day.” Your eyes snapped obediently to Curtis, fearful and wide-eyed as you took him in.

In the movie, he was large, towering over others. Here, as he was staring you down, face contorted to semi-controlled rage, and leaning over you so you could feel his hot breath wash over his face, how the blood dried to crack along his cheek, and eyes that you swore were debating snapping your neck.

“I don’t understand what is going-”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not asking questions here. Wilford sent you?”

“Wilford? Yes, yes.” You stutter, his fingers squeeze further and you can feel the hot tears streaming down your face, landing on his filthy hands. “He put Stacey and I in here, m-m-my friend. She was…” Your eyes rolled to where her body was twisted strangely, smeared in gore from where she slid around, or someone tripped over her. All you knew is her eyes started up at nothing now. Her wounds were gaping and bled out.

Curtis gave you a shake, his snarl brought you back to him. “She was what? What did Wilford send you two back here for?”

“We were here for a charity! I was supposed to meet Chris Evans, You as Curtis Everett.” your voice started to rise in a panic, your hands grasping his wrist at your neck. “That’s it, why is the train moving? Why are you all using real axes, fuck I just want to get off.” You sobbed, the survivors looked at you with disgust, shaking their heads.

“Once you’re on the Snowpiercer, there is no getting off.” Curtis leaned back a bit, looking you up and down as if inspecting you curiously. “You’re such a fragile little thing. Just like a baby bird, all brittle bones and helpless.”

“No getting off? What are you even talking about?” your tears started to sting your eyes, the panic settling deep in your chest like your heart was about to explode.

Curtis ignored your question, his free hand tugging at your thin sweater and shaking his head. “Fucker didn’t even send you back here properly dressed.”

You tried to struggle and Curtis slammed you back hard enough to make you stop.

“She’s fucking whacked out of her gourd. Gotta be a kronole head someone spouting that shit.” A young man said behind Curtis, and he got in your face, tapping your cheek smartly. “Girl snap out of it, that shite fucking rotted your brain.”

“No Edgar, this is different, she's lying. Good at it, but lying.” Curtis made to stand, dragging you up with him. You stumble in his hold, falling against his body before he dragged you along, hissing in your ear.

“I don’t know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #snowpiercer #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer fanfic #dark curtis everett #amber writes #sweater writes #halloween 2020 #halloween #fanfic

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amjustagirl · 4 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

But then his dreams start to take a dark turn, though he doesn’t notice it at the start.

There is light dancing on the edge of his eyelids, and when he blinks he finds himself in a field of never-ending gold. ‘You’re obsessed with flowers ’ he teases her, leaning on his hands to allow the breeze to ruffle his hair and whisper long lost secrets in his ear.

‘But they’re so pretty. It’s like they were put on this earth by the gods to remind us that life can be beautiful, after all.’

‘Now who’s being poetic, hm?’

‘Don’t tease! I’ll give you a more prosaic reason then. I’ve loved flowers ever since I worked for a florist after mum died to earn a little money on the side and ended up falling in love with the look on people’s faces when they buy flowers for themselves and the people they love. ’

‘Why don’t I see you work at the florist shop then? ’ He frowns, thinking of the bustling, cosy little shop in the town square owned by Hana-chan’s mom.

‘It didn’t work out’, she says simply. ‘Well, never mind that. Just shush and bask in the sun, let the sky gods weave rainbows into your dreams’.

Her words linger in his mind, and he foolishly finds himself searching for rainbows in the sky the next day.

‘Listen to the sky, Keiji ’, she calls, her laughter like birdsong. ‘ Do you think the wind will answer our prayers today?’

‘You answer my question first ’, he grumbles. ‘Hana-chan cornered me at school to scream at me to mind my own business again. Does that have anything to do with the bruises I saw on your arm last week? What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into when I’m not around? ’

‘Nosy, nosy Keiji ’, she teases, and he knows she’s just deflecting his concerns again. ‘You’re just overthinking things again’.

‘Promise me you’ll be careful’, he pleads. ‘Promise me you’re not doing anything stupid‘.

‘Stop worrying, silly boy, I promise I’ll be fine’, she murmurs, her voice lost in the wind.

‘You need to tell me what’s going on, you can’t go on like this at this rate’ , he hears himself say, desperation laced in his words.

He looks down. There is a tapestry of mottled bruises and angry welts on her arms, paint strokes of yellow and blue and purple and red that is gut-wrenching in the violence it implies.

‘It’s not my secret to tell, Keiji’ , she says, unwavering.

He wakes up, the pit in his stomach slowly filling up with dread. His dreams are turning out to be less like a shojo manga, more like a thriller that he suspects will give its protagonist a terrible end.

'Have you been a good friend to Hana-chan these days? ’ the man asks, an unfriendly smile playing on his lips.

Akaashi (or rather, him in her – though she’s in here somewhere too so it’s a little confusing) frowns, but accepts the box of vegetables and eggs held out to him anyway. ‘I suppose’, he answers, the load heavy in his arms, and the man seems to accept his response, humming an offbeat tune.

‘Well, I hope you can keep a secret, sweet girl’ the man laughs, tossing his cigarette butt on the grass before walking away. Sparks smoulder in the dry grass, and Akaashi hurries to balance the box on his hip before stamping them out.

‘That’s Hana-chan’s father, Nakamura-san ’, she tells him, voice strained. ‘I need you to act normal around him, got that?’

‘Might need you to find me the definition for your normal’ he says drily. ‘That word’s lost its meaning to me these days ’.

He hears her chuckle, but she doesn’t sound amused.

Hana-chan corners him when he’s in her body and he’s stupid enough not to notice the fist that swings his way.

‘I told you, you little creep’, she snarls, her nails digging into his arms. ‘I told you to stay the fuck away from me, but did you listen? No! I saw you last night, creeping around my family’s house with that stupid phone of yours – did you really think I wouldn’t notice you? I’m warning you to stay away or I will fucking end you, got that? ’

And she spits in his face, and he’s still left trying to make sense of the sting of cold liquid on his cheek when burning hands shove down the stairs. Concrete and human flesh clashes, the victor already predetermined, his body wracked with pain as he lands heavily, face down on the floor.

‘Last warning to stay away, you creep’, she shrieks before turning on her heel. There are no other students in the deserted hallway – not that anyone would come to help, not from his experience.

‘Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to piece your secrets together myself?’ he demands, when he scrapes himself off the floor, body aching from bruises in full bloom.

He can hear her breathe a sigh. ‘It’s a long story’ , she finally says.

‘Right now, all I have is time’ he answers drily. ‘Try me ’.

So she tells him about taking a part time job with Hana’s mom, the town’s florist for some extra cash. She tells him about the noises she hears whenever Hana’s mom steps out of the store, faint echoes of whimpers and sobs and broken cries for help, and how she puts two and two together when she sees the bruises on her classmate’s arms and legs. Her voice shakes when she tells him what she saw when she stole upstairs towards Hana’s bedroom one cloudy afternoon, how Hana’s dad gets off on hurting his teenage daughter, how she tried to report what she saw - but who’d believe the words of a teenage girl over the town mayor .

‘And now he’s taking it out on Hana-chan, which is why she hates me but I’m not going to let him stop me’, she tells him stubbornly and he can hear his past self gulp.

‘Are you insane? You shouldn’t get yourself involved. Tell someone, anyone. If you continue like this, you’re going to get yourself killed at this rate’.

‘Stop being a worrywart, Keiji! ’ she laughs, but the sound is hollow. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise’.

She’s back at the forest shrine, holding her hands together in prayer. The mangled remains of dandelions lie beside her knees, decapitated flower maidens sacrificed for wishes that they both know won’t ever come true.

‘I told you no one will listen to me, Keiji’, she cries, her face buried in her hands. ‘They all think I’m a little child who’s making up stories for attention ’.

‘There’s nothing you can do unless you have a record of it. Just keep your head down, or he’ll come after you next. How many times have I told you not to set yourself on fire to keep others warm? ’

Her head shoots up, and a feral grin ignites like wildfire on her face. ‘That’s brilliant, Keiji! ’

‘Wait no - that wasn’t meant to encourage you – that was meant to be metaphorical!’

‘If it all works out, it’s because of you! ’ she runs off, throwing her head back as she laughs, challenging the wind to catch her if it dares, before disappearing further into the woods.

‘You have got to be kidding me ’ he groans, kicking off the blankets to stare at his or well, her legs in horror. Dried blood is still caked into the deepest scrapes on her legs, and he can feel the ache from the bruises deep in his bones. ‘What on earth did you do?’

‘I may or may not have slipped when I was scaling Hana’s drainpipe’ .

He can feel the vein in his temple start to throb. ‘You what?’ he bites out.

‘They didn’t see me, I swear!’

He groans in despair this time, dropping his head in his hands. What is he supposed to do with someone so ridiculously obstinate?

‘If anything happens – ‘ she begins to say but he cuts her off before she can complete her sentence.

‘You promised me you wouldn’t do anything remotely risky and I refuse to let you put yourself in danger again. ’

She sighs, and worry flickers like a flame in his heart.

‘Fine – just. If anything happens – ‘

‘Which it won’t, not on my watch’ , he tells her firmly.

The smell of smouldering ash hits his nostrils.

His eyes fly awake. He’s back in the old wooden house again, but he chases his curiosity to the front yard, where he finds the letterbox razed to the ground.

‘A warning to stay out of his business ’, he hears her say, her voice determined. ‘But I’m not going to be spooked just by that. ’

‘You promised to be careful’ he shouts, properly angry this time. ‘Look at what you’ve done! ’.

‘I refuse to be a bystander to his madness’, she screams back. ‘I'd be tarred by his sins if I choose to do nothing about them. ’

His shirt is soaked in cold sweat when he stumbles out of bed, slapping his palms against his face to reassure himself that he’s not back in the dreamscape.

‘It’s not real. It can’t be real’, he tells his reflection firmly, but his mirror self only stares back at him.

In the morning, he skips class to make a trip back home, intent on leaving the omamori where it belongs, back in his childhood bedroom, so he can look forward to adulthood without these ridiculous dreams clouding his way. He stops by the florist on the way, as is his usual practice these days.

‘Flowers for your mother?’ the florist asks, when she opens the shutters to greet him, her first customer of the day.

‘Yes’, he answers shortly, and on an impulse he adds (because he needs something to fill the newly empty space on his desk) - ‘and maybe a houseplant. Something that’s relatively easy to take care of would do the trick.’

She hums in thought, fingers busy tying ribbons in the bunch of yellow roses for his mother. He doesn’t need to ask to know that the baby’s breath she includes is on the house.

‘What about rosemary?’ she suggests.

‘For remembrance?’ he asks, wrinkling his nose at the reference to Hamlet. The sudden thought of poor, mad Ophelia, floating dead in a stream, water lilies in her hair hits a chord that’s a little too jarring. ‘Um. Maybe a cactus might be better instead.’

He wonders if he’s imagining things, but he catches a flash of disappointment on her face before she replies easily - ‘sure!’, bending down to pull out a grumpy looking bulb full of thorns. Then she waves him off, his purchases packed in a neat brown bag. ‘Please come again!’

The cactus replaces the omamori, sitting neatly on his desk. It refuses to die even when he forgets to water it for weeks at a time.

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13atoms · 4 years

Text

An Artifice in Silver - Part Two

A/N - Part 1 was the angsty part of the challenge, written by @wonders-of-the-multiverse, so read that first!! It’s amazing!

Here’s my attempt to make the ending to this fic fluffy.

WARNINGS - Some death and Cyberman conversion are mentioned.

PAIRINGS: Dhawan!Master x Reader

WORD COUNT: 10,323 words

Part One | Part Two

Part Two: A Trap

It felt your though your head had only just collided with the ground when you were shaken awake. Your body been moved, swept awkwardly aside as you slept, clearing a path to the rest of the collapsed crowd from the door. Your head and limbs ached from the hard concrete of the ground, the air no longer green with smoke as you squinted to try and make out the people in the rest of the chamber.

All still human.

A few of them were moving, while others were out cold. You could only hope those nearer the epicentre of the gas being released were simply unconscious, their ragdoll bodies making you wince as they were shaken, loved ones and strangers alike desperately trying to wake them from their unnatural sleep. You could see the horror on the survivors’ faces as they picked over the group, struggling to regain movement in their own aching limbs even as that human instinct to help kicked in. Everyone looked worse for wear.

Motionless Cyber units now stood centurion around the room’s locked doors, terrifying even in their stillness. They appeared to be without instruction, frozen in place, but very much still functional. What was wrong with them? You knew the answer. Your mind drifted back to The Master.

Where the hell was he?

How could he do this to you?

To any one of these people?

A stranger filled your vision, and you felt panic surging through you instantly, heart pumping enough adrenaline to power your chemically-weakened muscles.

“You alright?”

The woman had the authority and certainty of a someone medically trained, a kindness in her eyes even through her fear. She grabbed at your shoulders, checking your vital signs, moving her hands to watch if your eyes tracked them. You groaned. It was all too much, too intense, and you tried not to see rude as you flinched away.

“I’m fine thanks,” you dismissed, peering past her.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the sheer number of people in here.

With a nod she scurried away, back to the rest of the room. They had no idea what was happening, peering up in fear at the frozen metallic claws, at the empty faces of the Cybermen.

You had been so close becoming that. Rotting flesh, trapped inside of a walking tombstone, at the whim of the hivemind which controlled these creatures. You shivered, noticing one frozen in place a few metres behind where the Master had been. They must have encroached on the halted conversion room whilst you’d been asleep, creeping in like demons in the night. Fear gripped you at the idea of those monsters stepping over your unconscious, unguarded body, preserving your form only for its use to them as a puppet.

Since you’d taken those casings apart, you’d been terrified of them. Of the fate which befell those trapped inside, stripped of their humanity. None of those people inside were any more or less worthy of life than you, no one had saved them. They were undead, beyond saving but not yet released from life.

You shuddered.

Your legs continued to shake as you clambered to your feet, tiptoeing closer to one of the Cybermen, expecting it to jump back to life any moment. One question wouldn’t leave your mind: Why were you still human?

You suspected the Master’s involvement but, from the devastation on his face as the gas descended, perhaps he hadn’t had as much influence as you’d thought. With another glance back at the door, you reminded yourself that your worst fears had been realised: he was still gone. Only a frozen monster in an otherwise empty corridor loomed back at you, still locked away by the thick doors which had separated you from him.

They must have closed again after Cybermen entered the chamber, and you knew you couldn’t open them. Cybermen were far too methodical to allow your escape.

Nothing added up. Especially that you were alive without The Master’s involvement.

Had he left on purpose? Assumed you dead? Given up on you?

You couldn’t bear to think about the worst case scenario: that he wouldn’t come back for you. Was he already running, a million lightyears away? Had the Doctor gotten to him?

Had he gotten to the Doctor?

Dwelling on your fears did nothing but make you freeze.

You needed to do something.

There were still people who needed help, you could help them.

But you couldn’t be drawn away from the door. For a sickening moment you wondered if you had imagined him, the way he trembled, begged for you to fight off the inevitable. Perhaps induced by your fear, had you imagined the one person in the universe who could comfort you?

You longed for him to come back, to tut at you for being so scared and tease you for not having a respiratory bypass system.

Instead, he was gone. You were trapped. The noise of the crowd had gradually increased again, raising to a murmur as whispers and hushed sobs of children echoed off the walls. Tones were hushed, everyone terrified of waking the machinery again. Of restarting the horror. Every movement in the room spooked people, and the crackle of an overhead announcement system made people huddle together, whispering frantically as you all anticipated a robotic voice.

‘You will be converted’ still stung fresh in your ears, that sound which had followed you, been offered as the only explanation for what was happening.

That soulless reading of a death sentence still loomed over everyone trapped here.

You tried to stand strong in your position – if nothing else you could be a barrier between the crowd and whatever came through this door – even as freshly-dried tears made your eyes ache.

When a Yorkshire lilt called your name through the speakers, and you smiled.

“Here!”

The group of people backed away from you, watching with equal fear and curiosity as you desperately shouted up to the ceiling, hoping she could hear you.

“I can open one of the doors for a moment, need a power surge and an external battery, it’s a whole thing. Can you see me?”

You scanned the perimeter of the conversion chamber, and spotted movement on the far side of the room. A few of the crowd moved to let you through, whispering, and you could have cried with relief. Her mane of blonde hair was visible through the clear panel of a door, and she waved to you manically as you jogged over it. It was a harsh contrast to how you’d spotted The Master. This time, your relief was warranted.

Unable to hear her, you relied on trying to understand how she pointed frantically to the ground at your feet, before crouching as the played with wires sticking out of something which looked suspiciously-bomb-like. You mirrored her pose, hidden from each other, now below the glass of the window.

You could hear muttering behind you, the shudder of your own breath, as you waited.

There was no rejecting the Doctor’s help now, no matter where your loyalties or personal grievances lay. With the Master gone, she was your only way out.

You had to trust her.

With a gut-wrenching clang the door suddenly shuddered and rose upwards. The thick metal looked too heavy to stop if it fell, but you just held your breath and rolled underneath, trusting her yelled command of:

“Quick!”

She scrambled to pull you clear of the door as it slammed closed like the heavy drop of a guillotine blade, making you cry out as it shook the ground. You had barely made it. That impact would have been fatal.

“Doctor!”

She was already stood, hands on hips. You found yourself left shaking on the ground. She was already on to the next problem.

“I hope that didn’t rewake the system.” She mused as she picked at the smoldering wires, seemingly unaffected by your near-death experience.

You were panting, staring at her in shock. While you’d realised a long time ago that she wasn’t any more careful with your wellbeing than the Master, you couldn’t believe her complete nonchalance. Were The Master in her shoes he would be dragging you back to his TARDIS, apologising for putting you in the situation, his bravado stripped the second he’d seen your wellbeing at stake. He’d be all gentle hands and mumbled reassurance, fury at every single person responsible for the construction of the machinery which had scared you so much.

The memory of his face through the door of the conversion room made your chest hurt, your eyes sting, and you knew he’d never forgive himself for being so reckless. For putting you at risk.

When you looked up, expecting a concerned look at the minimum, you saw the Timelord’s spot vacated. A rat’s nest of wires were the only indication she’d even been beside you. The Doctor was already walking away, shoes clicking on the metallic floor of yet another identical corridor. The Cybermen here were still too, making you hug yourself and run to keep up with her.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he ground out.

The Doctor couldn’t stand not knowing. She consulted her sonic screwdriver with a scrunched-up face, holding it to her ear, scanning one of the stationary suits as you finally caught up.

“Where’s the Master?” You demanded.

“What?”

“The Master.”

Her face turned dark, and she scowled.

“Of course he’s involved in all this. I should have known. Right, um…”

With another wave and buzz of the sonic screwdriver, she scowled at the result, then at you.

“Got him.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have told her that he was here. Would it put him at risk? Would it put her at risk? You couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty. They would have met eventually, dragged together like unwilling magnets. They always converged eventually. And you really needed to see him.

The Doctor took off running, backtracking occasionally as she followed the trace of him the sonic had picked up. You tried in vain to remember these featureless corridors, should you need to navigate back alone. It wouldn’t work. This facility was endless, an economically designed rabbit warren marked with ruthlessly minimal symbols which you couldn’t discern meaning from.

You wouldn’t be able to get out of here alone.

You spared a thought for the poor souls still trapped in the room you’d escaped, cowering under those metal claws and eyeless Cybermen, herded here like trembling sheep.

As you ran after the blonde Timelord the corridor suddenly opened to a large hangar-style door, like the hotwired one you had barely made it under. Seeing the metal above you made you shutter and halt at the threshold, but adrenaline forced you onwards. You cared more about what was inside, who was inside.

You could see him. Hunched over a computer, Cybermen shrunken at his feet like dolls, the Master was in a state of mania as he ripped the room apart.

Seeing him The Doctor gasped and tugged you around a corner and out of view of the room. You went to whisper a protest, but found her lean hand clapped over your mouth, barely touching but enough to stop you giving away her hiding spot.

“Just trust me,” she insisted. “Stay here.”

She grabbed your hand, squeezing it as though you might be less inclined to follow her somehow.

You couldn’t. Despite everything, you felt the draw of the Master, and she tugged your arm to hold you from straying too close to him as you peeked around the corner, just watching him.

His booming voice was unmistakable as he shouted into the room, but his face was hidden from you. The control room of the underground building was sparking and torn apart in places, The Master’s precise tapping of computer keys was interspersed with the ruthless smashing of server racks as he threw them to the ground, scattering the technology. His dismantling of the room was equal parts strategic and uncontrolled destruction, and you worried for the blood seeping from his knuckles and forearms, his jacket strewn aside and sleeves rolled up.

As he took another break from the computer system to punch at a glass pane, you couldn’t let him hurt himself anymore. You surged forward from your hiding spot, feeling the Doctor trying to hold you back. Adrenaline and happiness to see him was all which powered your body.

Calling to him, you imagined his excitement at realising you were alive. Maybe he’d stop smashing. Take you to safety.

“MAST–”

The Doctor grabbed you around the waist, pulling you against her body, muting you with a single hand clamped vice-tight over your mouth. For a moment the pair of you waited in silence, shocked by each other’s actions in equal measure.

“I don’t know what he’s done to you, but you need to stay away from him.”

Her accent grew stronger as she whispered, and you frowned. Her hand allowed you to breathe through your nose, but was tight around your jaw, her grip as strong as the Master’s.

“This is between us. You need to go back to the TARDIS.”

Not her TARDIS, you were sure of that.

You grunted into her hand, making her yell in pain as you bit down on the flesh of her palm, wriggling to get free. It didn’t even matter who she was: you refused to be manhandled. Your eyes flashed to the corridor, hoping The Master had noticed you, run to your rescue.

No footsteps came.

With a sigh, her hands found your temple, and your body weakened.

“I’m sorry, it’s a dirty trick. He’s done worse, I’m certain.”

You wanted to cry when you realised she was right. But not for the reasons she thought.

Her TARDIS was a mere few-minutes’ walk from where the pair of you had hidden, and she half-carried you the whole way, her mouth set in a grim line which terrified you more than any time the Master had ever shouted around you. You wanted to struggle, to fight her, but your body was too weakened to do anything.

You couldn’t even cry out, forced into obeying her, muscles made limp by her touch on your mind.

Setting you on the ground in the console room, she finally uncovered your mouth and dashed to the doors, calling back to you. As quickly as you had lost it, you suddenly you regained your strength, able to run at her.

“Stay in here.”

“DOCTOR!”

She darted out of the time ship just in time to escape your fury.

The TARDIS doors slammed closed, locking in an instant as you rushed to try and tug them open. It was no use, your whole body weight against the wood couldn’t move those doors.

You looked up at the ceiling of the sentient ship, hoping she might take your side, only to be met with the gentle hum of the time rotor.

“I need to get out,” you begged. “Please!”

Your exit remained barred.

A blue-tinged screen on the console flickered to life, and you left your post by the doors to peer at it. You could hear muffled voices outside, the screen showing a mute overhead view of the Doctor and her best enemy.

“Please,” you whispered to her, stroking the console. You hoped she was like the Timelords who piloted her, using the touch to tune into your heart. “Let me talk to them.”

There was static, then a click, and you rushed back to the doors. They were still locked.

As you spun to the console in confusion, two familiar voices echoed through the ship’s speakers.

“Is she in there?”

It was him, voice desperate, demanding. The Master.

“No.”

The Doctor was a weak liar at times. He’d see through her. You pounded your fists at the translucent glass of the doors, then held one palm flat against it, begging him to notice you.

He did.

“Doctor!” He taunted. “You lied to me!”

“Stay away from her.”

Glancing back at the monitor, you could see how the Doctor’s body blocked his access to the door, positioning herself between the two of them.

“She wants to see me.”

“She doesn’t.”

You wanted to scream, object as The Doctor stood cross-armed guard between him and the ship. Your words couldn’t permeate the doors.

“Is she okay?”

The feed showed how his attire was destroyed in places, how he slumped, and something else too…

“You’re crying!” The Doctor declared, shock clear in her voice.

The Master didn’t hesitate, taking a long stride towards her, making The Doctor jut her chin out.

“Is she ALIVE?”

You didn’t need the audio feed to hear his yell, and you could see how the blonde Timelord recoiled.

“Obviously!”

He relaxed a little, taking back control, but you could still see how anger dripped off him. His words escaped him as a growl – frustration and fear a melting pot in his voice.

“You have no idea what could be in that stuff she breathed. You haven’t even checked her over, Doctor.”

“Oh, as if you actually care.”

One of them would snap, the Master’s snarling voice met with a harsh laugh from the other Timelord. One of them would just throttle the other, pull the TCE or a gun from some deep recesses of their pockets, or snap the others’ neck. One of them would survive, pulling you into their arms over the broken body of the other.

You couldn’t bear it. Tension seeped through the doors, through the silence of the TARDIS speakers and the bluelight of the screen.

“I care so much it frightens me. Can you imagine that, Doctor? That it scares me?”

He got closer to her face, almost spitting from anger.

“You’re lying,” she growled.

“I destroyed the Cyberium.”

In the grainy monitor you saw her take pause, inspecting his face for a moment, like she’d be able to see whether the Cyberium had left him from nothing but his panting and the whites of his eyes.

You’d heard about it in vague terms, the Cyber AI which he’d absorbed. You’d seen how he avoided the species like the plague as you travelled, the way he fought with it inside his own head sometimes.

Even when it seemed to cause him unbearable pain, he’d promised you it wasn’t that bad. Only in the quiet moments, when he thought you couldn’t see, did you catching him muttering to himself with his eyes pressed shut.

“You what?”

The Doctor looked disbelieving.

“I followed it. I obeyed it, helped it, and this is how it rewarded me. So I killed it.”

Speechless, The Doctor just stared at him.

“I’ll give you the command codes if you like, just let me take her. Please.”

“Have you hypnotized her?”

The Doctor’s new line of attack made you wince, spitting out her words like poison. The Master held his hands up in a surrender, a small silver box tucked under one thumb.

“No. I swear.”

“Let me talk to her first.”

For a moment, the Master seemed to look straight through the monitor, directly at you, and you swore he could tell you were watching. You moved closer to the screen, arms folded nervously as his eyes flickered back to the Doctor.

“Have it your way. I’ll be in the ship’s command room.” He turned to walk away, but you heard his voice still, steady through the speakers. “If you dematerialise, Doctor, I will hunt you down. And everyone left here will die.”

He marched off and you watched on the monitor as he left, longing to run to him as much as you wanted to kill him. The Doctor’s image paused for a moment, and you could see her pacing outside the TARDIS doors. Distracted by the live feed, you jumped when the doors finally banged open. The screen went black, and you silently thanked the ship for being on your side.

“Let me go.”

You told her firmly as she trudged towards the console, playing with one of the instruments like she was toying with just piloting the ship away.

“I will.”

The pair of you stood in silence for a moment, and you longed to say more, but what else was there to say?

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay away from him?”

You were already looking at the door, wondering if you could remember the route back to the smashed control room alone. The Doctor walked towards you, hands awkwardly behind her back, and you felt a pang of longing for what could have been if she was a little more honest, a little more open.

Her voice was desperate, soft, and it made your heart ache for the happier times you’d spent together. Before the pain which surged back and forth between you, the harsh words and the abandonment. You’d hurt each other irreparably. You couldn’t be happy with her and the fam. They would never be enough.

Despite everything, though, you didn’t want to hate her.

“I’ll always remember the adventures we had together,” you promised her.

So much had gone unsaid earlier, in your anger at her for dropping by unannounced and whisking you away like she still had a guarantee you wanted to travel with her. Facing the realisation that this really might be it, you wanted to hug her.

It was strange, wanting to leave her, and yet being so devasted about it.

“What is he, to you?”

She looked afraid to ask it, and you were sure she wouldn’t like your answer. With a sigh, you saw no sense in lying to her.

“I think I love him.”

The drop of her face was enough to confirm it, that there was no getting out of this without hurting someone.

“No mind control,” you promised.

“You can still stay. He’s dangerous.”

Her words were half-hearted. She knew your choice. You shook your head, and she finally left her comfortable spot, rounding the physical barrier of the console so there was only a few feet separating you.

“I know.”

For the first time since you’d known her, she hugged you, awkward and all misplaced limbs. You accepted it, hugging her tightly back. Her face was hidden from you, and you held her as long as she’d let you, hoping you were imagining the ragged breaths which caught in her throat.

“Will he look after you?”

“I think so.”

She nodded against your shoulder, letting you go.

“Thank you, for everything.”

You meant it. For the adventures, for the chance to get more from life than Earth could give you, for the friendships you’d shared with the fam, and for the chance to meet him.

Perhaps she already regretted that last gift.

“Let’s get going, then!”

Her chipper tone was mismatched for the somber mood as you stroked the console goodbye one last time, mumbling your gratitude to the impossible, ancient ship which had first shown you the beauty and terror of this universe. The Doctor strode out the door like this was any other adventure, and you almost expect to be met with the surface of an unknown planet, just one more time.

She led you through the corridors in silence, and you still shivered at the Cybermen as you passed them, recalling the horror concealed inside these metal soldiers.

With a quick instruction to wait for her, The Doctor darted off to check a rack of servers. This was it. Her easy out. She knew you wouldn’t wait.

You kept walking, unexpectedly recognising where you were. He wouldn’t be concealing anything in the corner of a cramped storage room. He would be at the heart of the ship. Waiting for you.

You were right. The doors to the control room hissed open as you approached, revealing him stood in the center of the room. He’d cleaned up, put his jacket back on, brushed his disheveled hair back and lost that snarling, wild-animal demeanor he had been overcome by outside the conversion room, and while he’d spoken to the Doctor. Like the best of his disguises, composure covered his true feelings as he waited for the pair of you, distain on his face and his hands casually strewn in a trouser and jacket pocket.

When he saw you approach alone his performatively curled lip dropped, face slackening as he rushed towards you, open concern on his face. When you didn’t reach out to embrace him, and he stopped, deflated a few feet from you. He tried to lighten the mood, his features picking up into an unnatural smile.

“I told you I’d get you out!”

“You didn’t.” You told him flatly.

He reached for you, and you crossed your arms over yourself, resisting his offer of affection. You wouldn’t go back to him without an apology, if you could help it.

“You left me there.”

“You’re here, you’re…”

He trailed off at the Doctor’s appearance, barging flustered into the room, muttering that she’d ‘told you to wait’. At her entrance the Master wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you tightly to him. You tried to get away, and he wouldn’t release you.

This was a show, meant only to remind the Doctor her friend had chosen him over her, and you hated it. You didn’t want to help him hurt her.

“Don’t touch me.”

He ignored your snarl. You kicked at his foot, and he broke his grip, allowing you to retreat from the two Timelords.

“Lover’s tiff,” he smiled apologetically to The Doctor, reaching out his hand for yours.

When you retreated further away from him again, he froze. He offered his palms up apologetically, and you noticed they were still littered with cuts, some particularly brutal looking. You suspected the smashed-up control room around you could answer for that. He caught you staring, open horror on your face, and shoved them in his trouser pockets.

“It’s okay,” The Doctor’s Yorkshire lilt tried to settle you, and she approached you from the other side like a scared animal. You recoiled from her too, and the Master stepped in front of you.

“You brought her here!” He scoffed to the other Time Lord. “Don’t pretend you’re any better than me!”

The Doctor was acting like the hero, as usual, treating The Master like a teacher calming a mid-meltdown child. Her soft voice and outstretched palms didn’t seem quite so sincere, on the receiving end. You could understand The Master’s anger, as her gentle voice tried to placate him.

“I brought you what you want, we can trade.”

Suddenly, pieces clicked together.

“You said you didn’t know the Master was here,” you frowned.

“Did I?”

You turned on her.

“This was on purpose. You brought me here on purpose?”

From the drop of her jaw, you could read that you were right. At least a little bit. You felt your throat tighten with tears. The Master growled.

“How dare you drag her into this!”

“What? Into your plan?” You caught yourself getting hysterical, but you didn’t care. The Timelords glanced at each other, herding you back towards the glass projection which covered the entire back wall.

“You were supposed to be on Earth! If you had stayed, like I told you –”

Under your glare, he fell silent.

The Doctor, ever playing at being a peacekeeper, tried to step closer to you, only to be matched by the Master. You had nowhere left to go, backed against the dark glass wall of the bunker as they looked between you and each other.

“Doctor, did you… know the Master was here.”

“Yes.”

She had the decency to sound remorseful. You thought back on when you first landed, how quickly you’d lost her, been swept up in the horde of people shepherded towards the conversion chamber. You remembered how you’d feared for your life, the heartbreak on the Master’s face as he’d almost watched you experience a fate worse than death.

How she’d suddenly decided she should have a heart-to-heart with you, the second the Master left you on earth.

“You used me.”

They played this game, and you were a pawn in it. She’d brought you were, let you follow her out of the TARDIS, to play with the Master. Just so she could be the savior, and he could play at matching all of her light with his dark.

“Give me the codes, and this can all end,” she spoke to the Master, refusing to relinquish any of her control as the two of them trapped you. “I’ll let you leave. Everyone downstairs lives. The Cybers get destroyed.”

“You’re monsters,” you whispered.

The two Timelords glanced at each other, not meeting your eye.

“Darling… ” The Master began. You cut him off.

“Don’t.”

“The Cyberium in my head, it was too much. I couldn’t handle it, and if I did this, I could find a way to get it out. I needed their technology, their trust. I’m sorry, love.”

You winced at the pet name. He’d called you that in bed, once, and you’d felt like the happiest person in the universe. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I hope it was worth it.”

Even The Doctor wasn’t speaking. You glanced at her, trying to read anything but shock on from her expression. Following your eyeline, the Master seemed to jolt at the recollection she was even there. Both of you startled as he shoved a hand into the inside of his waistcoat, rummaging.

He threw a small silver communicator underhand to The Doctor, and she barely caught it, inspecting it with unguarded horror.

“Take this. You can dismantle the conversion facility with it, get the people downstairs out.”

She was already at the computer console, sneaking wary glances at the pair of you as her hands flew across the keys, computers still a little scorched from The Master’s earlier go at them. With the second Time Lord out of the picture, The Master turned to you.

“I was destroying this place. For what they did to you.”

“Why did you leave me?” you demanded, “down there?”

“I had to be here, to stop the gas, to freeze the hivemind. I’d already destroyed the Cyberium, I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t in control.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, the pain in his eyes seemed so real, and he held eye contact with you like you’d never seen before.

“She was never meant to bring you were. I swear, I’ll kill every one of them myself if I have to.”

“Those people down there, they’re just like me. You were going to kill them?”

“They’re not you–”

“Believe it or not Master, I’m human. I’m the same as them. I know you hate it, but I’m the same as them.”

“You’re not–”

“I am! And you were willing to let them die.”

The tremble of his hand as he reached for your cheek gave away his fear, and you recoiled, wincing as your head collided with the hard glossy wall. The Master flinched too, dropping his hand.

“Think how many would have died if the Cyberium had taken over my mind. Taken my ship. Had you.”

The timeline was confusing. Upsetting. Too much to think about. You frowned as you tried to think about it.

“That’s why you dropped me home.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you see me losing control like that. I thought I could come back when it was all over, if I could get my mind back.”

The Doctor was working noisily, and an alarm started going off as she hacked further and further into the base’s system. Outside, you heard a ringing as a Cyberman crumpled to the ground.

“We need to leave.”

As angry as you were, you nodded quickly, letting him guide you out of the room. As you passed, the Doctor called your name.

“It was the only way, I’m sorry. I had to show him what he was doing…”

Her face was truly devastated, for the brief glimpse of it you caught, but you couldn’t forgive her. The Master’s arm found your waist, guiding you away from her quickly, and you let him.

Betrayal had rooted deep in your gut, making you want to nauseous as you looked at her face. All your history together, and she had knowingly dumped you in the middle of a crowd to be converted into Cybermen. Just to hurt The Master.

You saw those blank creatures, their masks hiding the faces of real people, who had loved and been loved, had dreams and wants and needs.

She’d told you it was the worst thing she could imagine. That she’d lost friends to that cruel death and would never risk losing another. At the time your heart had ached for her, for the suffering she had been through, her only crime trying to do the right thing. Apparently she didn’t consider you a friend anymore.

The screeching of collapsing metal ricocheted off the bare corridors, and the Master moved the two of you faster.

You screamed as a Cyberman moved beside you, an electrical twitch before it collapsed to the ground in a pile of loose metal, and the Master’s arm tightened around your waist even more protectively.

You couldn’t move. Your feet were stuck to the ground as you saw the unnatural way the creature fell, the skeleton inside so decomposed the usual flexibility limits of a human body were far exceeded.

Almost pulling you over with his momentum, the Master stopped beside you. He followed your stare towards the horrific sight beside you, and made a noise of discontent in the back of his throat. With a gentle hand he guided your head away until you couldn’t see the creature anymore and the vision was replaced with his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Against your better judgement, and despite everything you’d been through, you hugged him. In the corridor as the base started to crumple around you, you couldn’t help unravelling at his touch, his head against yours as he pulled you tightly against him, feeling tears welling up in your eyes as you pressed your face to his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“No.”

Deep red lights illuminated the corridors around you, and you felt his sharp inhale of fear.

“Talk later. We need to run. Now.”

The Master struggled to navigate the corridors, swearing to himself each time he reached a junction, and dragging you in the right direction after a moment of panicked, hitting-his-own-head thought. It brought you some small measure of comfort, in the midst of this horrifying day, that he couldn’t have been here long.

Lungs aching, you fought to keep up with him. Even the Master was stumbling, unused to running for this length of time, and he shot you looks of concern as your human body needed to wheeze for breath. The collapsed bodies of Cybermen and the screaming of alarms were enough to keep you moving as the very structure itself rumbled. The burning pain in your muscles could wait.

You noticed the Master cursing up at the ceiling level above, where the Doctor still resided, muttering. What was she doing?

Finally you let yourself slow at the sight of his ridiculous outback shack. It was completely out of place and blocking a walkway. That stupid ship. You loved it.

It was facing the wrong way, and you had to use the back porch steps to clamber up onto the structure, faltering as the comfort of being near the machine finally let your adrenaline crash. He half-dragged you to keep up as you both rounded the veranda, throwing the doors open and firmly pulling you inside. He rushed to the console as the rumbling of breaking concrete and collapsing earth followed you into the ship, and you didn’t have the heart to care about the destruction happening outside.

The Doctor could handle the people who were trapped. She always did, their savior no matter the cost.

The moment the TARDIS’ doors closed, you fell into that old rickety sofa, and sobbed.

The Master piloted in silence, and once the murmur of the ship engines had stopped, he paced towards you awkwardly. He crouched to sit himself on the low table opposite your curled form, clasped his hands, and bowed his head. He let you cry yourself out, staring out as the windows at the vortex – empty and filled with flashes of colour all at the same time.

After a while he left, coming back with water and tissues, and you took them gratefully.

A few sips of water left you with enough voice to speak, albeit tremblingly, as he watched you worriedly.

“Do you think the bunker collapsed? After we left?”

“Probably. I think she got them out though. The computers could open the doors to the surface.”

“Good,” you said firmly.

“Good that they got out, or that the building collapsed?”

“Both.”

He chuckled, pulling your clenched hand away from your face. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, keeping them held to his lips. His hands were warm against your fingers as he held them, leant forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, lips surprisingly soft.

You knew he could check the fate of the bunker collapse. Future archeologists would have found it, if no one at the time recorded its outcome. But you didn’t particularly care for the truth. This ending was nicer.

Even after you fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable with him holding your hand away from you, he didn’t let go. You noticed the marring on his hands, already scabbing a little, and turned onto your side to touch the wounds.

“Do these hurt?”

“A little. They’ll heal up with some sleep, though.”

You laughed hollowly. Of course, a nap could heal wounds which you would need stitches for. He smiled sadly against your lips.

“Did you get hurt, at all? I was worried about the gas.”

“I’m a bit bruised, but I’ll be fine.”

The fall and the running made your muscles ache, but the main hurt wasn’t physical.

She’d betrayed you.

“She asked me to leave with her.”

He bowed his head, lips moving against your knuckles as he spoke.

“You said no?”

“Duh.”

He smiled.

“Thank you.”

You shrugged, not totally forgiving of him yet either. The energy had left you to fight. All you wanted was a bit of peace, convalescence before this inevitable game started again. The reckless travel, fighting over how much damage to cause, and the sex he didn’t care about.

How much longer could the two of you keep this up?

You wondered if you’d ever regret the decision to stay with him. When death stared you in the face again? The next time he forgot how human you were? At the pull of the TCE’s trigger, as he killed someone without a second thought?

Maybe then the Doctor’s different-but-equally-grey morals might seem more appealing.

Perhaps if you’d begged her to let you rejoin the ‘fam’, the Doctor might not have used you as a bargaining chip.

“When I saw you through that window… I realised you mean more to me. More than I’d ever expected.”

The admission would have made you swoon, on another day, but you just threw your head back against the wicker armrest, emotionally exhausted.

“I mean it.”

He was watching you for a reaction, and you rolled your head to face him.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“You must be shattered, love.”

You could only nod, and he dropped his forehead to the hand he was clutching, a silent apology.

“What can I do to help? I need you to tell me. I’ve been alone too long, and I’m not good at this stuff –”

His breath was hot against the skin of your hand. It made you shiver.

“I just want a shower. And to sleep. We can talk in the morning I just… I’ve had a long day.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t a surprise to you, his capacity for tenderness, but you hadn’t seen it this exposed, this prolonged, before. He seemed to move a little easier than he had in the last few weeks, his mind not drifting so far from where it ought to be tethered.

You wondered if he’d ever tell you how badly the Cyberium had affected him.

“Sorry.”

Maybe he knew what your apology was for, maybe he didn’t. Nonetheless he shook his head, helping you up, his hands held out in a silent offer for support walking should you need it. You took your own steps, legs trembling a little from overexertion as you walked alongside him towards the corridor which housed both of your rooms.

“Wait a second,” he murmured, leaving you so he could check a screen, humming at whatever he saw.

Like he’d never left, he was back, arm held out for you to take. You laid a hand across his elbow lightly, not to lean on him, but to be near him.

“What was that?”

“Just checking you’re okay.”

At your puzzled look, he continued, tone dismissive.

“The TARDIS checks your vital signs. That green gas was nasty, unknown, I just wanted to check it didn’t need any immediate attention. Seems like it just knocked you out. How are your muscles feeling?”

“Exhausted, obviously. I think I’ll ache tomorrow.”

He hummed in agreement as you reached your door, surprising you when he opened it for you and followed you inside.

“High lactic acid. Blood-oxygen’s a touch lower than I’d like, too.”

You frowned.

“Do you really measure all that stuff on me?”

“Is it creepy? I hoped it wasn’t. I just… it’s not exactly intrusive, better than a checkup or whatever. It lets me know you’re not about to drop down dead.”

He moved around your room as he spoke, collecting pajamas and your hairbrush, various other bits and bobs you might need in an overnight bag. When he caught you watching him, confused, he walked back to the door. Your possessions were bundled against his chest, secured by one of his hands.

“Come use my bath. There’s some soaks that should help you recover.”

The shake in your legs wasn’t just from the running as you crossed the corridor, surprised by the realisation his door appeared to be unlocked. It was barely six feet from the entrance to your room, but you’d never seen this door open.

You had assumed his room was always locked. When he was in there, absent from the rest of the ship, it meant he wanted to be left strictly alone. Going inside, even with his hand guiding you, felt forbidden.

He’d always fucked you in your room. It was easier for him that way. It allowed him to leave the second he was done, if he wanted to. Even when the pair of you got more comfortable, laying together, spending more time intertwined just reading or watching movies, his space was off limits.

He didn’t miss the way you halted at the threshold, looking around at the curiously designed space. The furniture didn’t match the room, you noticed. Colourless walls were contrasted with a regal four-poster, antique bookshelves stretched high towards an iridescent crystalline ceiling, futuristic inlaid lights illuminated the messiness of a hand-carved oak desk.

Old and new clashed, everything regal and big, but barely filling the oversized space.

“It’s a bit weird,” he conceded, “you can stick to your room if you like.”

“No, no its fine. Just not what I expected.”

He set your things on the bed, and you picked over the sweats he’d brought, clutching them to your chest.

“What did you expect?” he grinned.

“I don’t know. Versailles? Or some kind of BDSM torture chamber?”

With a laugh he appraised the room, biting his lip in amusement.

“Are you disappointed?”

You found yourself grinning too, as he shucked off his coat and lay it over the desk chair.

“A little.”

The newly formed tension between you had felt like a lead weight, and you only realised when it was broken. You bounced on your heels as much as your injured muscles allowed, and let him lead you to the bathroom.

“Don’t change yet, I’ll just grab some shower stuff!”

More classic, the bathroom was all marble, the space dominated by an oversized claw-foot tub. For a moment you realised the pair of you could fit in there comfortably, before brushing the thought away. Exhaustion was making you hazy already. You’d just fall asleep.

Plus, you remembered, you were mad at him.

Ignoring his warning you started to strip off, left in just your underwear by the time he appeared in the doorway with an ‘oh!’

“Its fine. Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you pointed out.

He still looked sheepish.

“Rub this on anywhere that hurts before you get in the water, should stop any inflammation and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Help?”

You were too tired to navigate the pain mapped all across your body alone, and you didn’t want to be without company. The screams of the child who’d lost a mother, of the people who’d seen that gas descending, the slamming of the door you’d barely rolled under, they’d all find your ears again as ghosts the moment you were without distraction.

Without you stripping off any further, the pair of you managed to apply the chalky substance all over your body, the honey-sweet smell filling the air as his hands cautiously rubbed it across your muscles. You were more slapdash with your own application, and he quietly returned to spots you’d missed, making sure you wouldn’t ache. His attention to your muscles was so tender and careful, you had to keep talking, just to stop yourself choking up.

“I could have used this on the Doctor’s TARDIS!” you had tried to joke.

The other Timelord was far more fond of running, and you’d woken up countless mornings in agony, even as the fun of the day before electrified the atmosphere in her ship.

The Master stayed silent.

On many levels, you felt you understood him a little better now. It had hurt, to be betrayed by her, but you had something in common now.

“Did it hurt to leave her?” he whispered.

The Master’s eyes were on your calf as he kneaded the substance into your skin, but his hands froze at your momentary silence.

“Yeah. It did. Before I realised what she’d done, at least.”

He nodded silently, swallowing. The pair of you froze as you finally put the glass jar down, accepting that this excuse to be together was done. His hands left your skin and he walked to the sink awkwardly, washing his hands in silence.

He didn’t leave, leaning against the counter and watching you.

“Give me a shout if you need me, okay?”

You smiled, suddenly shy, barely recognising the man in front of you.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll be just outside.”

Finally, he left. He closed the door with a click, and instantly you felt like an intruder, left alone in his bathroom. It was tidy, but everywhere were reminders it was his space. Aside from your clothes folded messily on the counter, there was only his things. A matte black range of branded products scattered the room, lined up by his toothbrush, on a built-in shelf of the shower. You wanted to investigate them, smell them. See which of them were responsible for the smell you associated with him.

The tub of hair clay by the sink had the lid slightly ajar, and it made you smile as you corrected it. He must have gotten ready in a rush. It was strange, that he’d even wanted you in here, but you hoped it was some step towards real closeness. There was still so much to say, but that was easy to forget when he was there, caring for you.

You’d only left the Doctor because you could see a future with him – something she couldn’t offer you, surrounded by carelessness and lies and three other companions. The Master could offer you more. You could almost picture your own toothbrush, stood up next to his.

You stripped off your underwear and left it on the countertop, foregoing the tub for the alluring waterfall shower in the corner of the room. It was easily big enough for four people, all natural-cut stone with a simple pair of dials to control it. Beautiful, and completely to the Master’s taste.

Before you had touched anything the TARDIS started the water, a slow trickle turning into a warm sheet of water which made you sigh at the sensation of being underneath it.

“Thanks, dear,” you mimicked how he spoke to the ship, and she flickered the lights in return.

It was heaven, to finally have every remaining atom of that base, that conversion room, those corridors, swept off your skin.

The products you reached for all smelt faintly like him – a matching suite of mildly citrus-scented body wash and hair products. Exhaustion and the smell made you feel dazed as you rubbed the chalky healing substance off your body. The smell of him made you feel somehow guilty as you tried to clean the sweat and grime from your hair and your face. His senses were so attuned, you wondered if it would freak him out. Or whether he’d like it, to have you smelling of him. Like a claim.

If he was still outside the unlocked door the thundering of the water hid any noise he made. You rolled your shoulders and turned the heat up, letting the heaviness of the water rush over you, waiting for this day to make sense.

You had no idea how long you stood there lost in thought. The Master’s voice dragged you back to reality, calling your name worriedly through the door with a rap of his knuckles against the wood.

“Are you okay?”

“All good!”

Calling back, you quickly rinsed your hair before shutting the water off, suddenly driven back to motion by his concern. Back in your early days together he’d often overestimated how much humans could withstand, lamenting the ‘wasted’ hours of sleep you wanted, or the frequency with which you had to eat. He’d gotten better recently. He was aware of how exhaustion affected you, appreciated that you couldn’t walk or run forever. It had amused you when he started carrying food and even occasionally arranging places for you to stay overnight, should your travels require it.

On a fundamental level, he had started caring for you more.

The Master had never gone to this extent, though. Or perhaps you had never needed his care as much. The scans his ship seemed to run on you proved he’d at least been checking your body was okay all this time.

Maybe he’d always just checked your health and opted to let you heal alone, before today.

A deep burgundy towel hung on a heated rail beside the shower and you grabbed it, careful not to slip as you wrapped the material around you. It was oversized, thick and soft, and you couldn’t help the jolt when you felt the warmth of it on your bare skin and remembered it was his.

Even though he’d been inside of you, gotten to know you, you’d never been allowed to know him back. Not really. This felt like a start.

You had to brush the thought aside, drying your hair as best you could without a hairdryer, pulling on pajamas and leaving the wet towel back where you found it for the ship to deal with. It took a moment, and a deep breath, for you to finally emerge from the steam-filled room.

The Master was sat on his bed, reading some book from his collection which was quickly strewn onto his desk as you approached.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks. I think I’ll still ache tomorrow.”

He looked a little sheepish.

“Hopefully not. That stuff’s pretty good, usually.”

You stood uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for some cue from him on where to go from here. He turned down the bed, silently pulling the covers aside for you to climb in. Then he looked at you expectantly, as if you were obviously supposed to just clamber into his bed. You were surprised, but all too grateful for the comfort.

“Really?”

He left your question unanswered. You settled beneath the sheets, and The Master watched you as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“Do you want me to…”

He was mid-thought, it seemed, asking you if he should leave his own bedroom. You spoke over him.

“Can you stay with me? Just for tonight. We’ll forget it ever happened tomorrow if you want.”

He faltered, still watching you curiously. You wondered what his plan had been, if not to stay with you.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see those fucking metal claws, the insides of those creatures, I –”

Without a word he stripped off his jacket, boots and waistcoat.

“I just need a shower. Give me five minutes.”

You nodded, wrapping the covers around you and trying to get comfortable. You’d never had ‘sides of the bed’ - he’d never stayed long enough to designate those - but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were in the wrong place.

It was stupid. To be having casual sex with the man, to trust him with your life, and not even feel entitled to be sleeping in his bed.

Something had to change.

The Master was barely gone two minutes, emerging from his shower with a towel slung around his hips. He rummaged through his wardrobe before tugging free a pair of checkered pajama trousers, glancing to check you were still there before silently returning to the bathroom to change. You looked away at his half-nakedness, hoping he hadn’t noticed your breath hitch.

The two of you were a mess.

His awkwardness didn’t escape you as he rounded the bed, shirtless and with wet hair.

He climbed in beside you, careful not to touch you, and you tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, letting him pull the covers over himself and refusing to let your bodies roll together, even as the mattress gave. To your surprise, he lay out to mirror you, on his side behind you.

If not to the distance between your bodies, he could be chest to chest with you.

“Comfy?”

You nodded against the pillow, hands self-consciously tucked away in front of you. You could feel it when he spoke, the whisper of his breath on your neck. His head rested inches behind yours, intimate even as the pair of you didn’t touch.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, nose close to your freshly-washed hair.

You laughed.

“I smell like you, of course you like it!”

That got a chuckle out of him, and you could feel how his body moved the mattress as he exhaled.

“Are you cold? Your hair’s still wet.”

You shrugged, and he brought his arm around you, resting it on you without pulling you in. He made a noise of contentment as you shuffled closer into him, letting him hold you more easily.

With a gulp, you hoped his closeness to you would stop him from recoiling at your question.

“Before you dropped me off… when I fell asleep…”

“I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“So, you did do it.”

“You wouldn’t leave otherwise. It is not safe for humans around Cybermen,” he trailed off.

The question you wanted answered was obvious, hanging in the air, making you tense.

“Its not okay, to mess with people’s heads like that,” you chided him gently, with no anger in your tone, nothing to make him explode at you like he had before.

“I… yeah. I know.”

You frowned, even as you knew he couldn’t see you.

“The Cyberium… it made me not trust myself. It was relentless, talking to me. Muddling my thoughts with the AI…”

“You were scared.”

“I was furious. It made me volatile.”

His face buried into your neck. As though this was the most natural thing in the world, you found yourself trusting his touch. You brought a hand up to stroke his hair as he mumbled against your skin.

“I was scared. It threatened to hurt you if I didn’t do what it wanted. I didn’t sleep for a month, couldn’t let my guard down, knowing it might use my body to hurt you. It was trying to get to me.”

You found his arm where it was strewn across your side and covered it with your own arm, squeezed his hand in comfort.

“You should have told me.”

“How could I?”

Without a response you fell silent, thumb tracing the hairs on the back of his hand.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, someday. You shouldn’t have been there. I promise.”

He blamed the Doctor, beyond all anger, he was just upset with her. You could never hope to understand the length and breadth of their tumultuous relationship. It would take a human lifetime to comprehend the bond between them – two near-gods who had been stuck in a game of cat and mouse for their whole lives.

“She used me.”

“I wish she hadn’t.”

Without seeing each other’s faces, it was easier to talk.

“Would you have stopped it, if I hadn’t been there?”

“Eventually. I wanted to destroy the base properly. I wanted a plan. I hate the Cyberium for what it did to me. It should have been power, knowledge, and instead it tried to steal what I knew, take my body for its own. The things it showed me… how it threatened me… I couldn’t let it take what’s mine.”

“The TARDIS…” you realised.

“And you.”

You nodded abruptly at his words.

One thought wouldn’t leave your mind: those people around you, he would have let them die.

Collaterally to you, he’d saved them.

And maybe that could be a start.

“Is the Cyberium totally gone now?”

“Yep! Transferred it to the supercomputer on the base, and then destroyed the machinery. Tricky to hide my plan from the AI, but I managed it.”

You couldn’t help smirking at his brag.

“And how do you feel?”

“Glad to have my mind to myself again,” his tone flattened.

It was hard to believe everything fell together, just like that. It still felt so unfinished, so… unhandled. In the minutes you were alone the feelings of betrayal, the sheer enormity of your ordeal, had felt so unmanageable. Now, you felt ready to heal.

Beneath his hand, your stomach gurgled loudly, and you cringed at the noise.

As you were about to apologise, the Master spoke.

“Wait, did you eat today?”

You frankly had no idea how long today had even been. You shook your head with a confused frown, realising that now the adrenaline had left your system, you were damn hungry.

He clambered out of bed, and you pulled the duvet aside to follow him, your muscles protesting at even the idea of walking to the kitchen.

“No, stay there, you need to rest. I’ll be quick.”

True to his word, a plate of food was dumped on your lap in minutes. Some of it not quite fit for human consumption, but most of it your favourites.

He clambered back into bed beside you. He used his body to prop you up comfortably. He picked off what you didn’t want, chatting away about nothing in particular, and something scarily like peace settled over you. That twinge of panic, the fear his mood would flip on a dime, ebbed further away every time he made sure the blankets were covering your feet. With every second he sat beside you, sneaking bites of your food and laughing when you spilt crumbs on his covers, your resolve grew.

You’d stay.

Maybe you imagined it, but he seemed so much happier in his own head. The dark moments when he wasn’t paying attention never appeared, the mental war he was fighting never sneaking outwards to play across his face. Every laugh felt sincere, every word authentic.

When you were done eating the Master cleared the plate, and you took it in turns to brush your teeth. He went first, and when you took his place in the bathroom you saw a brand-new toothbrush sitting innocently beside his at the sink.

The sight made you feel dizzy, even minutes later when you re-emerged into his darkened bedroom, taking your place once more in the bed. The image of those two toothbrushes side by side was burned into your mind. He pulled you to his shirtless body wordlessly, no hesitations this time, whispering a goodnight as the room fell into pitch-blackness.

You needed to rest.

Each time you closed your eyes, you tensed up. No matter the comfort, The Master had gone still beside you, but you were certain he was still awake.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere near the Alzarium Galaxy, I believe.”

“How far–”

“Half a universe away, I promise.”

You closed your eyes again, feeling him breathe behind you as you tried to push the image of that collapsed Cyberman from your mind, the screams, that crying, motherless child. You’d seen horrors before, but rarely as the victim of them. Never so close.

Suppressing tears, you opened your eyes, staring into the darkness of the room.

“I can’t sleep.”

He hummed sympathy, pulling you tighter to him and brushing his nose against your neck. You sighed into him, trying to close your eyes again, unable to keep your mind from straying.

“Help me?”

You could talk more tomorrow, when you’d rested and had some distance from everything. But as you fell asleep, dreamless as the Master’s hands cupped your temples, you knew you were home.

#13atoms #fic #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #dh!master #dh!master x reader #but I loved writing this!#Angst Challenge

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

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It’s The Avengers (03x09)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 09: I’m Allergic to Bad Memories

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: *shrugs*

Word Count: I am sick. But I am out of stuff to keep my loud mind busy. So here we are. Be grateful to the Gods of k-dramas

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The chirps of concern were a train of ramblings coming in between the nudges little orange furry paws were giving you; smushing your lips, your cheeks, booping your nose. The only time they stopped was when that echo that resulted in your unconsciousness announced a little plan. “How about I be of some help, little one?” Lulu stood up on his hind legs while he and his camera saw a pair of pale hands stroke your head ever so gently, whispering something foreign under a sweet breath. The next second, you stirred, perking up the little furball- who smushed your face and head with an endless amount of rubs with his own. You groaned before a yelp found its way out of your throat as you felt the bump at the back of your head thump with piercing pain. “Ow! Ow ow ow ow.” “Ah,” the soothing voice called out from outside the frame, “you hit your head pretty hard, dear.” The realisation of the stranger came a little late- maybe because of the concussion, maybe because of the angelic voice that seemed to make you feel at ease- and once it did, your eyes widened while your legs moved your body away from… “God?” you gasped in question while Lulu’s camera looked at the aged women smiling down at you with a glow unlike any. “More or less, yes,” the glowing woman in a gold dress chuckled before bringing her hand forward. “Come, let me help you, dear.” You tried catching your breath there. “Wh...who…” The smile on that bewitchingly calm face brought this uncalled ease inside your chest. “I’m Frigga.”

. A shrivelled high-pitched scream eroded the den as Javier stood frozen at the expressions similar to that of a spooked out little child on the face of the head of the universe’s deadliest mafia. “No, please do not hurt my face!! That is my one good asset!!! You always hit me where it hurts the most!!!” Taneleer cried. The camera focused from the ball of luxurious fur whispering on the floor to Loki- who stood there with his arms across his chest. “I didn’t even hit you yet. Quit being such a pain in the a-” “Ssso what! You were thinking of hitting me,” Taneleer huffed while he looked up at Loki, “I could see it in those snake eyes of yours. Like you will bite my-my h-head off!” Loki sighed and rolled his eyes.

Loki: *bags under his eyes* I am…*blinks tiredly* surrounded...by the most idiotic scum of this universe *camera pans across his shoulder to show Taneleer calling his henchman* “As long as they are here, make sure that little Terran is safe. Otherwise, I will cut off your limbs and feed it to the street rodents,” he hisses.

“I cannot believe you just thought of hurting me for that Terran,” Taneleer tsked and jumped in annoyance, “she is getting between our friendship.” “You were never my friend,” Loki delivered the blow with a straight face while the boss felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. “And to think I made little marble figures of us both hanging out in Knowhere,” he whispered with the hurt reflecting in his voice. “Who is she to you anyway?” He pouted. “Who is this creature to have you travelling by her side as if you are...she is...you both...what is she to you?!!” “Just get me my fucking grace,” Loki raised his voice while rolling his eyes, “or I swear to all the power in this universe I will personally make you suffer for frying my brain cells with your utter nonsense. What are you trying to do? Buy time till your rotten brain can figure out how to make up an excuse for your incompetence?” Taneleer’s slouching and sad figure straightened up and raised a finger. “More like, trying to buy time before I really tell you who I sold your grace to.” . “Frigga?” The camera took in the glowing pale face smiling in your direction as it nodded in your direction. Your face, on the other hand, was a mess of confusion, surprise and the worst possible daze just sitting on top of your forehead. “Like...Loki’s mom Frigga?” A sparkle went off in Frigga’s eyes as the already glowing face seemed to shine four times brighter. Her eyes widened and her smile seemingly found a reason to grow wider. That was till some uncertain thought crossed her forehead and her smile twitched and transformed into an unsettling concern. “This is…” Frigga trailed off. “Weird?” you tried helping her. “It’s usually Thor that people know me through.” “Huh...makes sense.” “How...do you know Loki?” “Oh, I’m his friend. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you.” “Ah,” Frigga nodded and mirrored your smile before confusion punched that softness away. “I’m sorry, you are what?!” The Lounge Scott sat on the sofa reading the latest copy of One Piece while the big screen opposite him showed Loki threatening Tivan by his collar. The screen did not seem to take his attention but the figure looking in front of it, going to and fro more times than Scott could count. Actually, Scott stopped counting after six about an hour ago. "Instead of working your legs, it would be better to work that mouth for your friend, don't you think?" Natasha called out from behind the counter, sipping on her kale smoothie. The words stopped Steve short, his whole face a mixture of blushing horror. "W-what." "That's not what she means, you thirsty grandpa!" Scott called his thoughts out without raising his eyes from the latest in Wano arc, "go talk to him." Steve blinked and regained a part of his lost senses, slowly moving towards the dorms. "And kiss him senseless while you're at it," Scott added, stopping the captain midway to give him an irritated glare- one that Natasha was loving.

Natasha: *smirks* I have to say it feels good to have someone else make thirst jokes on Steve too *Camera pans out to show Scott smiling for the lens* Scott: It's me *points to self* she means me. Natasha: I guess there are more coming? Scott: *gushing* you have no idea

The Den “So, if I were to summarise what you just told me, midgardians have no quarrels with Loki, Thanos has been defeated and my son is living with the Avengers now.” Lulu’s camera caught seriousness in Frigga’s brows while you nodded. “And I’m his friend,” you added with a smile before looking at Lulu’s camera.

You: I stressed that for reasons *shrugs nonchalantly*

“Right,” Frigga acknowledged. “So, how is my son? Is he here? My essence is only supposed to be released in his presence or someone he…” Frigga paused and looked back at you, this time with the keen observation that seemed to make you a little uncomfortable. “He is somewhere in the back with the anime-hair guy. They are trying to find a way to get him out of these cuffs my dad made so he couldn’t use magic. Long story. But we got teleported into some galaxy far away and now we are here to help Loki get his powers back so we can go home.” You thought best to blabber than stand there in awkward silence while Loki’s mother was giving you a deep mental once over. “And by we I mean me, Lulu and Javi. We are all friends. Lulu is the little baby we adopted on the way,” you cooed and smiled at the little pile of soft fur purring on receiving scritches from your under his not-so-visible jaw. You looked back up to watch Frigga’s fingers rest on her lips to mask some sort of emotion you were too late to read.

Frigga: This cute little midgardian keeps calling herself Loki’s friend *tilts head* and then tells me they adopted an old beastling’s offspring as their child. *contemplates* So...do marriages not happen on earth lately? Or is this something my son came up with? *raises her brows* no matter the story, *waves her hand* I am not letting him lose this precious one.

“Let’s go meet Loki,” you jumped in controlled excitement taking the first step to lead the way before freezing right there. “Wait,” you interrupted your own buzz with a grim expression, “how do I know you are one of the good ones?” “I beg your pardon, little one?” You sighed, feeling a little heaviness settle in your chest. “How do I know you are not going to hurt him?”

You: Yup *purses lips* reasons *stretches the corners of her mouth in regret*

“Did you just ask me if I was dangerous for my own son?” You could already feel the mother hen judgment even when you didn’t stare into her eyes. “I know,” you sighed, “it’s the space. My nerves are overworked and the only thing I can think of is Loki.” “...” “-’s well being.” Clearing your throat, you nodded at your own words, stealing a glimpse at the camera. “That usually does not happen. I can assure you that.” The surprise at your sheer audacity melted within ten seconds to give place to something soft and glowing; along with something else. You did not expect Frigga to bring forward her hand and cup your cheek with her palm to gaze into your soul while you stood there with disbelief dripping from your skin. “Your hand is so warm,” you commented after flinching a little at her touch, waiting for her to say something. But Frigga took her time, her thumb stroking your cheek while you witnessed the corner of her eyes glistening. “By the Norns, you have been one gentle soul through such wild storms haven’t you, dear,” she whispered, forcing you to grow more confused for a second, “why would someone hurt such a precious soul.” Lulu’s camera moved with Lulu’s body suddenly on alert. He could feel the change in the atmosphere right when the camera caught your crinkled brows release themselves to some invisible realisations that were either too quick- or too heavy- to bring tears to your eyes. All that your face carried was bearings of something that stopped time for you while your tears ran as much as they could; and with them ran your breaths getting shallow by the second till Frigga engulfed you in her warm embrace, her hands soothing your back. “Forgive me, my child,” she whispered, never leaving your cold figure, “forgive me for bringing it all back.” Lulu’s whines and unknown movements from the corridor made Frigga bring herself to face a dazed you. “You are one brave human, my dearest. Trust in yourself. And you are not alone. Take good care of my son till I can see him one last time.” With those words hanging somewhere in the midst of your ears and your brain, she left with a peck on your forehead, dissolving into the same light she was radiating all along.

The Dorms and Their Outer Surroundings The camera zoomed in to focus away from the leaves and into the french window of Bucky’s room where he and Steve sat in their respective love seats five feet apart, trying their best to keep their composure while trying to come up with words. Steve cleared his throat. Bucky moved the bottle of water on the coffee table towards him. “So…” Steve’s throat barely made any noise the first time while Bucky’s red face tried to hide under the shadow of his long unruly hair, “I heard that...ahem...that you…” “I’m gay!” The confession came like a shot of rifle mid-air, taking both Bucky and Steve by surprise. “And that’s o-okay,” Steve stressed, sitting up straight, “it’s okay to love anyone you want.” “So-” Bucky’s fingers wrung each other under the internal pressure to get the words out- “is it...is it okay to love you?” Unknown to them, another camera standing outside in the lawn witnessed an excited Scott perched upon the top of the tree with the headphones on to hear every word they said. And just as the confession came, the poor man caught hold of his chest, muttered, “my heart,” and fell from the branch while his red-headed accomplice waited for more. “Is it okay to love you now?” Steve was on pause, his attention solely taken by Bucky’s words and eyes. “Bucky,” was he was able to get out before standing up, forcing Bucky to mirror him. “I know this may seem out of the blue, Stevie, but I have always...always only had eyes for you. And I know times were different back then, but now I finally have the guts to tell you how I feel and I would completely understand if you don’t-” The words were stopped short right on the lips when Steve took Bucky by the collar and kissed him. “FINALLY!” a victorious cry came from the Black Widow right beside the camera, making the poor thing wobble and fall down lens first onto the ground.

The Weird Den Javier’s camera already caught the shimmer of an orb disappearing from right in front of you as he entered the room but his company was too late to notice any of that golden light that had just illuminated the room. The moment Loki entered the room the camera recorded his senses going off. His eyes ran over every corner of the room, over Lulu rubbing himself on your legs while trying to draw your attention, and then back to your figure standing in the middle with your back to him. “Y/N?” he called out, taking one cautious step at a time. You flinched. That stopped him right in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” Lulu’s camera caught your hands wiping away the tears before turning to face him. That effort was not of much use as both Loki and Taneleer could make out some real tears had been shed. “Nothing. Did you find something for your cuffs?” your nasal voice did not help your case either. Taneleer raised his hands a little as he stepped close to you, bringing forward a dense black fabric. You took without much thought and blew your nose into it, making the boss gag behind you. Loki clearly wanted to ask you about the reason behind those tears but those lines of latent rage in between your brows made him go the other way. “We will have to travel a little further for that, I’m afraid.” You sniffed, finally feeling the air in your nostrils. “Cool. Let’s go,” you muttered nonchalantly and walked out. Taneleer’s eyes widened and he aggressively gestured his guards to follow you. Loki’s brows raised themselves in question. “What just happened?” . “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Javier’s camera caught the grit of your teeth as you sat down in the transportation vehicle that looked like an exoskeleton of a schoolkids’ van. “I said I’m fine,” you pressed with zero emotions in your eyes. “Then why are you crying,” Loki pressed back while casually leaning on the doorframe and watching you with his intense gaze. You scoffed. “Because I’m allergic to you,” you spewed into the air and shifted to face away from him. Taking full offence of that statement, Loki opened his mouth to say something before shutting it back. Tight. “You know I’m still single right?” Tivan whispered from behind the God with a smirk. The latter did not pay much attention to his words. “I’ve taken some of your inventory. Don’t bother getting it back in one piece.” Loki was about to step into the van when Taneleer decided to open his mouth. “She knows you are here.” Loki paused, his hand resting on the frame and his biceps feeling a tug under his dark shirt. “She knows you are out of hiding, Loki. She will come for you. I know you already know that. And she will come for anything-” his gaze shifted from Loki’s beautiful back to yours- “-that stands between her and you.” No words came from the other side except for the tap of a finger on the frame before Loki got inside the van and came to sit next to you. Tivan’s guards were already putting the vehicle in full throttle to fly towards your ship while Loki waited for you to say something. But you were stubborn in your own way, not letting out a peep but turning to watch where exactly Loki is sitting. “Lulu,” he stressed with a note of caution when he did not let Javier secure him in his seat, leading to the fur-boy slump in his seat and sulk till Javier presented him with candy. At the same time, you scooched closer to Loki- still not facing him- and let your fingers feel his overcoat in them. Your eyes still carried the remnants of the tears along with a hidden hurt that you did not want to show anyone. But the high definition cameras everywhere were quick to catch it all; even the slight break of your heartstrings when you felt the fabric of comfort in your fingers move away. It also captured the shock that followed when you felt his arm come and rest behind your neck to prevent the discomfort of the metal rails on the back of your head on this bumpy ride, giving you full access to take the support of his shoulder and arms in that moment. You didn’t even realise when the waterworks came again. “What,” Loki looked at you expressionless, “I’m just resting my arm.” You blinked and took in the snot rising up in your nose. “I’m still allergic to you,” you muttered while resting your head on his shoulder. A smile born for two seconds was seen by no one except the camera.

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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Twin Snowflakes 22: Ground Zero

Part 21 -> here! <-

Bad luck has been a part of Qrow’s life for as long as he could remember. It manifested in a variety of ways but there was one in particular that was absolutely the worst, travel. Flat tire on a road trip, inconvenient. Plane delay, well that one was probably not his fault, but it felt like it! Certain cases like that were always a little iffy on if it was him or life. As the veteran huntsman stood on the deck of his son’s boat in the pouring rain with a Kraken raising from the depths, Qrow was sure of one thing. This one had to be his fault.

“I didn’t think grimm this big were still around. We’re in the middle of the ocean for crying out loud.” Qrow sighed, grabbing harbinger.” It’s cases like this he’d usually leave. Two big problems though. Problem number one, Sparrow was already firing cannons at it. Problem number two, it was waving Oscar around like a toy. He seemed okay though.

“CAN I HAVE SOME HELP HERE!?” He screamed, louder than the roaring winds and rough seas. “THIS GUY IS REALLY SLIMY!!”

“Slip out then!” Sparrow shouted in earnest. Oscar might’ve been far away but Sparrow could tell the man was not amused by that response. “What!? Do you want me to shoot that arm with you in it!? Penny will have a fit if I shot you!”

“PENNY WILL HAVE A FIT IF I'M EATEN!!!” Oscar wiggled and squirmed before finally managing to create an orb to push the tentacle off, then dispelling the orb to drop straight down. Cannon fire rained down on the center mass like grand finale fireworks, but only angered the beast. More tentacles cut through the air to reclaim its lost hostage.

“Give me a break.” The rain continued to pour down and sting against Oscar’s skin. He paid no mind to the whirlpools forming or the ship deck quickly approaching. Oscar simply closed his eyes. “Hey it’s been awhile. Mind lending a hand?” He called, subconsciously to his old friend.

“Hehe Oscar, do you even have to ask?”

Oscar smiled, opening his eyes and seeing Oz smile back through the reflection of the rain drops before seeing his own again, complete with white hair and golden eyes. “Let’s get to it shall we?”

xxxx

Nick remained quiet as Weiss drove back home from school. He was happy he made it back in time. A gigas dragging him away after his fight with Valerie would’ve made the entire incident worse. Though if he was being honest, fighting a gigas sounded cathartic in a way. He gently pulled up the window switch over and over, repeatedly.

Weiss took note of her son’s unusually sad demeanor. “Alright, wanna tell me what happened in there? You were full of energy before getting your work, and I doubt the workload has spooked you.”

“Nothing I’m not used to.”

“Ah, Valerie troubles.” Weiss glanced over and saw Nick glare at his own reflection. Looks like she was right on the money. “Take it from me, I’m sure whatever happened had more to do with her own personal feelings and not the feelings you have for her.”

“You say that with such confidence.”

“I was a teenage girl once too, you know? One with plenty of personal hurdles I tried to associate with other people instead of myself. It doesn’t ever really stop truthfully. You just get better at accepting the fact the problems fix itself when you decide to change how to respond to it.”

“Do you think I have a problem I should change? Loving a girl who pushes me away, it probably makes me look like a joke.” He tried rolling down the window again but found the switch had been locked. Yet another thing to make him sad.

“I think it’s not the wisest thing you’ve done, but it’s definitely the most normal teenage thing about you. Joke or not, feelings are feelings. They’ll work themselves out. Just don’t force anything and before you know it, you’ll see things a lot clearer.” Weiss reached over and ruffled his shaggy hair. “Who knows, maybe you’ll see this dew of yours needs to finally change.”

“As if!” Nick laughed, “I look too much like uncle if I cut it, and any longer makes me look like dad.”

“Not if you style it. Oh, or grow it out even longer. Like when you’re little! “Weiss cooed, “You and Summer were really hard to tell apart then.”

“Yeah, and people kept calling me ‘she’ and stuff. Nooooo thank you!” He folded his arms in protest.

“That won’t happen now that you got your father’s looks. You’ll just be a pretty boy. Then if you get facial hair!? Nick, let me make you gorgeous! I have Coco on speed dial!”

“This is why you had a boy and a girl, mom! So I can escape this torture.”

Weiss pouted, “Summer likes doing her own makeup and hair. I should be proud considering it’s my old look from waaaaay back, but I still wanna change things up. I’d give this entire family a makeover if you all weren’t so whiny about it.” Weiss looked in the mirror at neck length hair. She remembered how free she felt the first time she cut it. Having twins meant twice the hair pulling, three times if she counted the one person she wanted to pull her hair. Thinking back, there was a good chance it was one of times Jaune pulled it that gave way to the discussion of kids in the first place.

“Hmmm, maybe I should grow my hair out. I miss the old length sometimes.”

“Summer would be so upset.”

“Good, then she’ll change it. That’s one family member down.”

Nick playfully rolled his eyes. A makeover didn’t sound too annoying actually. Maybe after the tournament? He’d think about it. “Hey, mind if we train again today? I got a lot of pent up energy and new ideas.”

“I suppose. Someone has to make sure you don’t overdo it. Winter is coming over too, so it’s for the best I warm you up anyways. I’m positive after your recent school events that she has a few words for you.”

Nick gulped, knowing he was in for a workout. “Well now…guess I’m dying today.” He could already feel his muscles ache.

xxxx

Meanwhile in the woods, Summer and Veronica had crossed into unfamiliar territory, casual conversation. It wasn’t going well. They both agreed to chat but neither of them were actually talking! They were just walking with Veronica taking the lead, leaving Summer awkwardly following a few steps behind.

The girl had finally pulled herself together after her little episode. In truth, she was a little embarrassed to say anything after it. She hated looking weak, especially in front of Veronica, a girl who manages to look strong against even the harshest of critics and peers. It was quite envious, her attitude. Summer would give just about anything to have it. Summer looked down at her scroll for what must’ve been the tenth time. Still no missed messages.

“Expecting a call?” Veronica finally said, noticing the Schnee’s gaze consistently drifting. “Got a boyfriend or something I don’t know about?”

Summer felt like that might’ve been a jab but chose to ignore it. “Nick always calls me if Shiva gets out or nearly escapes. He’s always had a sixth sense for knowing her moves. It’s unlike him to not immediately call, even if he’s doing something urgent.” Summer put her scroll away. “Him not calling is odd.”

“Are you telling me she almost got out earlier? I didn’t really smell anything.” Veronica looked back to see the girl look at her confused. A fitting look honestly. “The one time Shiva was out and even when we argued yesterday, I smelled peppermint, a disgusting amount of it. The diamond dust smells the same.” Veronica pointed to her nose, “I didn’t smell that earlier.”

“Oh.” was all Summer could say. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t. “Great, my panic attack was just unhinged. Even when she’s quiet, she’s ruining my day.”

“Are you saying Shiva tries escaping when you’re hysterical?”

“Apparently not, or at least not all the time? Agh, it’s impossible for me to tell.” Summer was even more perplexed than before. “Just when have I been talking to her? They’re not all fake, but...they’re not all real either? I can’t afford not knowing the” Her train of thought was broken when a snowball thrown by Veronica hit her coat. “Hey! Wh-”

Veronica quickly covered Summer’s mouth. “Shhh! Grimm.” She pointed several yards into the distance where two sabertooth grimm were roaming. “Alright, do your thing.”

Summer looked at the grimm, then back at Veronica, who gave a casual thumbs up. “Wait, you’re not helping?”

“Nope.”

“Whhhhyyyyyy exactly?” Summer questioned.

Veronica sighed, because one of the reasons I wanted to be out here is to better see you in action. Why else would I tell you to bring your blade?”

“You lead me here under the assumption of a fight…” Summer deadpanned, “Couldn’t you have looked up old videos of me? I didn’t see you drag Nick off to fight grimm so you can make his outfit.”

“Nick has double the videos of him fighting, as well as him figure skating. Also, I pay more attention to him than I do you.” It might’ve been rude, but it was the honest truth. Summer didn’t even seem surprised. She just looked at Veronica with judgment. “What?”

“Nothing, much.” Summer drew her blade and put a glyph at her feet. “Any requests for data purposes?” She could not believe this was happening.

“Just handle them how you would normally, oh huntress in training.” Veronica teased lightly.

Summer pointed her sword out with her right hand and her right foot forward, then took off. The distance between her and grimm was closed in a matter second. She leaped over one, slicing it’s head off through the back of its neck. Another glyph formed midair behind her. Summer used it to kick off right after the attack and thrust her blade through the second grimm’s eye socket. Not even a snarl was heard before it died instantly.

Summer looked back at Veronica. “Cake walk. You’d get more data out of a video than th-”

“BEHIND YOU!” Veronica shouted.

Summer looked over her shoulder to see a third one already pouncing. With a subtle breath, Summer slowed its approach and then back stepped to safety. One more glyph was put under the paws of the beast and pulled out like a rug to trip it. Summer spun the chamber of her Myrtenaster and threw into its ribs like a javelin. The chamber landed on flame dust, setting it ablaze.

“Phew! That was...unexpected.” Summer said, coming down from a surge of adrenaline.

Veronica ran over to Summer, surprised. “How did you do that, the breath thing?” Veronica asked, “That’s a trick I’ve never seen.”

“ Oh that? Well…” Summer took her left glove off and focused. Little snowflakes started floating upward from it in place like a snow globe. “I’m not too good at it, but I can control a bit of Shiva’s powers. Only when I’m cold though, or freaked out, but that second one is more involuntary.” Summer put back on her glove, “considering the potential risks and conditions, I don’t use it in fights. Explaining it to officials would be a pain anyways.”

That made sense. Veronica could smell a hint of peppermint coming off Summer. That was Shiva’s power alright. This also explained the mass amount of ice she saw Summer create in her video fighting the Paladin. “Permission to touch you?” Veronica asked, like she always did. Summer nodded. Veronica reaches out and places two fingers against the pulse in Summer’s neck. “Any other Shiva related tidbits to share?”

“Ummm, we share a subconscious, sort of? More like a neutral ground.”

Veronica paused momentarily, “what?” She said, annoyed by all this cookie cutter information. “Gonna need more tidbits?”

“It’s hard to explain. I don’t understand it either.” Veronica looked at Summer, unblinking. Apparently that wasn’t a good enough answer. “Look, imagine something like...an ocean, just water and the sky above. Now flip it upside and make that ocean completely frozen. That’s more or less what the subconscious looks like. There’s ground to stand on, but I can’t really see. Depending if I’m actually dreaming or in a certain place, then that’s what the subconscious can look like. The only constant is that ice ceiling.”

Every sentence from this girl felt like a fever dream to Veronica. “Summer, I doubt you're lying to me, but do you by any chance also do drugs? You know, the hard kind.”

“As if!” Summer swatted Veronica’s hand off her neck. “First of all, drugs and I don’t mix. Second, be serious!”

“It was a valid question. Rich kids do a lot of things. If Nick told me he tried it before I wouldn’t be surprised. Saddened, but not surprised.”

“While I would be hounded by you no doubt?”

Veronica crossed her arms, “I’d berate anyone who would do drugs.” Her tone was stern and cutthroat, “It’s an ugly slope that goes down fast.”

The way she spoke about it was rather serious compared to what Summer was used to. “Have...you done drugs?” Summer asked cautiously.

Veronica thought about her answer carefully for a moment. “For a brief time, yes. I’m past it however, totally clean. I thought it might help control my instincts.” Veronica slouched over with a sigh, “Unfortunately, noooo dice. Come on. Let’s keep moving.” Veronica continued to walk.

Summer stood quietly for a moment, then followed as well. She wasn’t expecting to get to the topic of Veronica’s genetics in such a personal way. Then again, someone’s very birth is nothing but personal. Curiosity began to get the better of her. They did make a deal after all.

“V-Veronica…?” Summer stuttered, “I held up my end of the bargain. The only other thing that may be worth mentioning is Shiva only knows what I know when she tries escaping, and I only know what she does if I’m conscious. Other than that I think all the dribble about the state of mind would make you snore. So…..”

Veronica could tell where this was going. “Relax, I’m not about to break a deal that I proposed in the first place.”

She reached for a nearby branch and plucked a silver flower off of it. It’s five petals were spread wide Veronica placed it in her own hair. “I take it that even your school isn’t bold enough to ignore basic faunus knowledge and history, despite their…questionable place in said history?”

Summer nodded, “Hey, Atlas isn’t the kind of place to bury the leads. Older society and its people simply do what they want, how they want.” Summer cringed, “Not that doing so is exactly better in the long run. Besides, you think rich tycoons wouldn’t tell their heirs and shady dealers how they amassed their fortune? Atlas’s people might know too well the benefits and contributions the faunus play in our history and in a work capacity.” Summer felt sick saying that. “It’s disgusting really.”

“Couldn’t agree more. With all that said, how much do you wanna bet there’s aspects glossed over?” Veronica wagered.

“I could’ve sworn you made it clear that you have no interest in money?” Summer quipped.

Veronica let out a humorous breath, “Tah, a girl can change her mind can’t she?” Veronica watched Summer reach in her pocket and pull out a hundred lien casually, giving it up. Veronica was surprised. “We didn’t even make the bet yet.”

“If I knew everything, then I wouldn’t be curious about this in the first place. Odds of you teaching me something new about your people is a given.”

Maybe it was the fact that Summer was made of money, or had good intentions for learning more, but Veronica couldn’t take the money. She could only waved it away. “Geez it was a joke. Making you pay would look bad.” She said, in a forest with nobody but themselves around. “Qualities Like night vision and other adaptations aren’t the only animals traits given. It’s fundamentally built into everything about us. Disposition, personality traits, social skills, everything; the animal you are influences all of these in a variety of ways in varying amounts.”

“Like how faunus with nocturnal animal traits tend to take night jobs?”

“Veronica nodded, “Yes. A bird faunus might choose a home at high elevations, even if they don’t have wings. A deer or rabbit faunus may have to work harder at public speaking than let’s say a wolf faunus. The subtles can get even tinier; or as obvious as a feline faunus loving fish.”

Summer never really thought about it, but that made sense.“What you’re basically telling me is for a faunus, nature vs nurture takes on an entirely different level of complexity? Nothing stops a rabbit faunus from being a motivational speaker, but it would be more work, unless their parents or even their environment had predisposed them to be apart of a more vocal and outgoing lifestyle?” Summer’s eyes lit up. “That’s actually really fascinating, sowhere do you fit in with all of this?” She asked, wanting to learn more.

Veronica was taken off gaurd by how interested Summer was. “For a person who apparently hates school as much as I do, you look eager to learn.”

“School sucks because of social pressure and redundant information.” Summer deadpanned, “Anyone would get bored of learning material that is forced upon them and is as quickly discarded.”

“Well, I guess that’s true. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with any aspect of school, but learning is the least problematic part of what I had to think about it. Anyways, what I’ve told you so far applies to all faunus. With the way the world is and all the kinds of possible traits, finding a place to fit in isn’t difficult. Those animal instincts are very much submissive compared and don’t hinder our ability. Like you said, a rabbit faunus can do public speaking. A bat faunus can absolutely walk around in broad daylight. However, there’s a minority among faunus that have their animal gene act way more dominant than the majority. Roughly 13 to around 18 percent of the faunus population, if I remember correctly. This group, my group, are easily recognized by having exaggerated or extra features. Extra large wings, skin more animal than human, cold blood-”

“Ears and a tail?” Summer interjected, “appearance wise, you seem to have gotten off easy. You covered in fur or having whiskers would be a little distracting. Not gonna lie.”

“Externally, I’m just a tick higher on date lists for everyone with disturbing cat girl fantasies. Make no mistake though, I’m not the average faunus. Super faunus, the minority, have their animal qualities cranked up and deformed. I can’t see in the dark, but my nose is keener than any dog I’ve encountered. All those little traits I mentioned before? They tend to manifest in my people aggressively and often. To put into perspective, I have more in common with my grandpa than I do my mom, on an animal level.”

“Wow, that’s…intense. Your grandpa roars and gets all apex predator on people when he’s pissed- oh! Wait, your temper is shit because of your genes!?”

Veronica inhaled, ignoring the insult for the sake of conversation. “To a degree, yes. I cannot pin the blame entirely on my DNA, unfortunately…” she added that last bit quietly. “Despite what people write online about my family, we aren’t just cats. We are big cats. I’m a panther for crying out loud.”

Summer squinted, “Well, seeing how you’re mostly blonde, aren’t you technically more of a jaguar or a leopar-”

“Panther.” Veronica said, this time with feeling. “I could dye my hair red and that doesn’t change my DNA, Summer.”

For her own safety, Summer wisely chose not to make a very easy pink panther joke. She thought about it, but this conversation didn’t need to fall apart for the sake of Summer wanting to be a smartass to Veronica for once. “Fair enough, continue.” She said, still thinking about the joke.

“My athletic ability is exceptional, hearing too. My tail gives me balance more than other faunus. Despite the term super, anyone with the mutation would tell you how daunting it is. The type of animal, like everything else, determines what the faunus might deal with. For me it boils down two major things that contradict each other. Problem number one, not eating enough meat.”

“What happens?”

“Same thing that happens to any starved predator. I become impulsive, irritated easily, confrontational, my senses get...sensitive, adrenaline makes me dizzy-”

“So you’re super hangry?” Summer said without thinking. She immediately tucked her lips in and accepted the “you are an idiot” look that Veronica gave her without mercy. “Why the hell did I say that?”

Veronica groaned, “Minutes ago I heard you bring up nature vs nurture for comparing and explaining what I’ve said. Now you compare things to being hangry? It’s not even about how full I am, it’s the nutritional and instinctual part of devouring meat that my brain wants. It’s no different than your body craving milk for calcium. If I’m not careful and reach my limit, I tend to lose sense of reason and even blackout into a haze of instinct. Essentially, I go feral. Your brother can tell you that it’s not a pretty thing.” Veronica frowned.

The bruises on his face that day after school started to make a little more sense. No way he’d just let Max and Darren get clean hits in! He was dealing with an enraged Veronica. It actually put a lot of things in perspective. Summer couldn’t count how many times Veronica looked like she wanted to actually claw a person’s eyes out. She might’ve actually been thinking it over! That...was a scary thought. “What’s problem number two?” There was no way it could be just as bad.

“Eating too much meat. That’s when I’m an apex.” Veronica said, giving a thousand yard stare. Summer immediately took her statement back. That sounded way more problematic. “My attitude shifts. My fuse isn’t as short as when I’m starved but let’s say I can be very...demanding. Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Summer raised a brow, skeptical of that statement. “Are you saying-”

“Better think twice before saying I’m already demanding. Neither you or Nick has seen me when I’m caught up in the euphoria of being what I am. I’d put that girl Amber to shame, and my physical prowess are even better. I’m wild in a completely different way. Filter, broken. Can’t even put that state into words. So yeah, that’s my genetic mishap in a nutshell.”

“You being a food snob and all of your diets make a lot more sense now. Why keep this to yourself for so long.”

“Simple, it’s not anybody’s business what I’m dealing with. It’s handled, and doesn’t need to be explained among faunus. Living normally isn’t hard when you know what you’re dealing with, which is why I’m shocked every resource hasn’t been poured into figuring out your problem.”

That stung a bit. “Oscar is currently crossing the sea to potentially find answers, I have you know.” Summer said defensively.

A scoff came from Veronica. “No offense, but that sounds like a waste of energy.”

“Saying no offense doesn’t make me feel less hurt.” Summer folded her arms. “How would you know? Unlike you, my affliction has no prior information to go off of, and isn’t a genetic thing at birth. Any move could be closer to the truth, or a shot in the dark. For all intended purposes, you were born and live normally like anyone else.”

“Hate to make you sound stupid, but a test tube baby isn’t normal in most circles. Two moms, remember?” Veronica said, coldly.

Summer stopped walking. For some reason, that didn’t sit right with her. “Isn’t that name...an insult?”

“Yep.” Veronica kept walking, “Keep up. I’ll leave you out here.”

Summer listened. Maybe it was her imagination, but that atmosphere between them felt like it changed again. They had both held up their end of the bargain. Now things felt cold between them like before. Summer wasn’t expecting to learn as much as she did. Many things were answered today, so why did it feel like she knew less about Veronica. Blanks were filled into a picture she never knew the true size of, and still didn’t. One of those pieces felt out of place. The piece that helped put build up to this situation in the first place.

“Veronica…?” Summer uttered, “By any chance, does any of what you told me having anything to do with the torn pages in your-” suddenly, Summer’s words were stuck in her throat. Veronica had turned around to look her dead in the eyes, coldly and without care. Summer felt herself become small and beneath Veronica yet again, inferior.

“Never bring this topic up again, got it?” Veronica had to stop herself from balling up her hands, or she’d cut them with her nail. “Got it?” She said again, doing her best not to blow a fuse.

“S..sorry. I just...thought-”

“You thought wrong.” Veronica said. She turned around and kept walking. “We’re not friends.”

Heat rose to Summer’s face. It was impossible to know if she was feeling embarrassed, upset, or anything. All she knew was for a moment, she felt tears well up before vanishing. She breathed through her nose and bit back. “Yeah, I’m well aware.”

xxxx

“Sloppy!!!” The commanding voice of Weiss’s sister cried, knocking her nephew into a bush for the tenth time today. “You’re unfocused! Surely you can do better?”

Weiss witnessed her child stumble back to his feet, hair messed up and panting. He stabbed his sword into the ground to brace himself momentarily. His aura was still high, and yet… “Winter, he’s still under the weather. Ease up.”

“This is me easing up. You simply coddle him too much. Nick is more than capable of continuing. I don’t remember going as easy on you when you asked for training all those years ago. You turned out fine.”

“I wouldn’t exactly use our relationship as a standard.” Weiss mumbled.”

Nick raised his sword quickly. He channeled a fire ball to the tip of his blade as fast as he could, but was still too slow. Winter had already rushed towards his left. He had no choice but to abandon the fire attack for a block that barely withstood his Aunt’s blade. Nick slid backwards on the stone ground.

Winter shook her head. “Once again, you waste aura and energy not because the attack was a bad choice, but because you simply cannot use your semblance fast enough.”

Winter shot off a fire ball not even a second later. She waited closely for Nick to raise his block, then used a standard glyph to propel herself forward. Her speed surpassed the fireball, and Winter was able to position her blade behind him as the flame made contact with his.

Nick looked over his shoulder at her, frustrated, but not willing to yield. He pivoted around with his blade held out to direct hers away, then put a glyph between them. By the time he did so, Nick already knew she was on the move again. “Don’t count me out!” His left hand pulled a summoned sword from the glyph. Nick swung it out to the left and around to his back while his actual blade was swung right. The weight to Winter’s attack came from back and was blocked, perfect. He leaned his body left with his blade as he felt Winter shift that direction to his opened side.

Winter could only smile as she went in to strike. Nick just played her and she knew it. Her blade still clashed with the summon weapon, leaving his right blade free to use the momentum from the lean and make a clean stab with no chance for her to block. Winter did the wise thing and jumped back, abandoning her assault. His left side was never really opened. It was bait. Both swords were used to block wherever she came from. The right one only stopped short because the left one did the job of making sure she aimed for his back by swinging outward. Winter would have either been hit or blocked if she immediately attacked left or right, and the glyph protected the front. By making her attack his back, he all but ensured she would aim left next because it was the only unguarded spot, a spot he was ready to defend and attack from simultaneously. It was this kind of quick thinking and reckless style that separated Nicholas from anyone else. Even his sister. Especially his sister. Winter loved Summer to death, but the girl was quick to panic if plans fell apart.

Normally Winter would hear him say something self-indulgent. Nope. Just a quiet stare and a fireball he had to fire off thanks to the distance between them. Still…

“Nice effort.” Winter said, knocking it away with ease. “But no. The simple fact you can summon the sword of an Arma Gigas so easily yet remain sluggish with more basic functions of your semblance is a baffling talent. If it wasn’t for your unconventional swordplay that you somehow make work, I’d say getting a gold medal would be impossible. Still might be. It only does so much.”

“Well it’s a little late to change my style now. This is what I know best.” He dropped his sword and slowly let out a breath, filled with irritation. “I know I’m lacking.”

Winter raised a brow. She looked at Weiss confused, “What’s wrong with him? The usual?”

“No. Well, yeah, but he’s been stretched thin in general recently.”

“I’m not stretched thin. I just...nothing feels like it’s enough. Training in particular. Like you said, I can make swords in my sleep. All the other things our family is supposed to be good at, I’m average!”

Winter turned off mentor mode for a moment. Clearly this is more than about training, but she’ll play along. It was time to be an aunt. “Nick, you are in a class of your own. Sixteen and this skilled by no means is average. In regards to us, your family, no one here was perfect. Nobody here is perfect. Your mother still over extends her strikes from time to time and your father definitely wasn’t a genius by any means.”

Weiss narrowed her eyes, “Hey, I’m free game but be nice to my husband. You’re right, but be nice.”

“Like me, you choose to wield two blades. Unlike me, it’s your go to stance.” Winter informed, “Our semblance works best when we have a free hand. That’s why shields aren’t a good option for us. The choice to use two blades isn't bad by normal standards. I’ve faced many foes that pressured me with similar tactics, even beat me. Though only one is real, another sword has made it harder for you to use glyphs. At least it should be, but summoning and a video of your exam says otherwise.”

Nick looked at his summoned blade in frustration. “I still don’t know what I did differently that day. I was faster and more in control than I have ever been. Not only did I actually make a gigas, but even all my other glyphs felt on par with Summer’s.”

“Remember Nick, You and Summer excel at different things.” Weiss reminded him. “Yes, her fundamentals and use of dust are better, but she has a knack for it. That’s her edge. In a fight, Summer’s wide range of dust and glyph combinations always means she’s never out of range to attack or control a fighting space. You may not have that but your speed, stamina, and reflexes make up for it. In close quarters, no one your age matches you in Atlas.”

“That merit just so happens to have made you neglect the need to sharpen your other talents. Do you know how dangerous you could be with-”

“Time dilation? Yeah, mom told me.” He interjected, “something about those other things simply don’t click in my head. Can’t even get a fireball right.”

He sat down on the ground and took another breath. “The way I fight, it isn’t like I built it to be the most versatile. My offense is my defense. The use of momentum to add power behind my strikes helps keep in moving. It’s why my stamina and speed is good, to push my body for relentless attacks.”

He didn’t say it out right, but he didn’t have to. Nick made a style that didn’t make him good against a variety of people in mind. No, Nick thought of style against Shiva. In the end, that’s the only fight that matters. Beating others with it was a way to refine it for the moment it mattered. Abandoning it was not an option. Only improving.

Winter could only look upon the boy's face and see someone who only ever has the best intentions for others slowly begin to waver. Her teenage years were long gone, but no one ever truly forgets the confusion they went through during that time. Winter walked over to her young nephew and sat in front of him, legs crossed. “Why is it always the most caring of people who can never give themselves the break they give others? Nicholas Schnee, you are a kind, hardworking young man that never doubts himself often. Much like your mother, you take hold of what you want and clench it tight.”

“Lately holding on seems to hurt more than letting go. Nothing...feels right. Not just in training either. I feel like a gap between me and everyone else has been growing, like I’m out of a very important loop. Val, Vee, even Summer.”

“This time of year gets people stressed. It’s possible every one just needs a breath. I can speak much on a gap, but I’m positive time will mend it. Despite my feelings towards the young Belladonna, it is pretty clear the two of you get along. Confide in her.”

Weiss and Nick went bugged for a moment. They both looked at each other and then back at Winter.

“Wow.” Weiss spoke, “That’s pretty big, coming from you. Anytime you see that girl, you have nothing but disappointing looks.”

“Yeah Auntie, I’m shocked.”

Winter turned a little red, “I don’t see why. I may find her a bad influence on you and your sister, but my opinion is one of many. With you, Veronica is a welcome distraction to break up your daily routine. I’ll give her that much.”

“How generous,” Nick said sarcastically. Veronica was starting to sound more like a battle tactic than a person. Though she probably wouldn’t mind if it meant spending time with him. Regardless, “I appreciate the suggestions, but my time is better spent training at the moment. If I can be half as capable as I was during my exam, then I chalk that up as good progress.”

Winter hit his head. “Fool, you’re not getting it!”

“Ow! What!? All I said was- Ow!” Weiss also hit his head, much lighter though. “Stop hitting me! I thought this was a pep talk!?”

“It is.” Winter stated, “It’s also a lesson. The way you are now, you can’t progress much further. I urge you to really think about what made that day different from now; what made your last attack against me different even. That is all the hints I will provide to him. I do hope your mother keeps quiet as well.”

“Hey! I get I’m a little...lenient with him, but I would never skip an opportunity to watch him grow. Besides, telling him wouldn’t mean he could do it any faster anyways.” Weiss teased. She could hear Nick’s ears practically buzzing.

“If that’s the case then say it!” He asked eagerly. He was given no answer. Winter and Weiss walked away from him like they didn’t peak his curiosity. He assumed training was about to resume like normal. However, it didn’t. A look of shock came to him when both of his elders faced him, blades drawn.

“What, both of you at once.” He said nervously, grabbing his sword and rising quickly to his feet. “What happened to me being under the weather, mom!?”

Weiss smiled, “Hey, you wanted fast results. Until you find the answer to your glyph problem, we’ll double down or swordsmanship. Brace yourself. I’ll hold back.”

“I will not!” Winter smiled.

Nick didn’t even get a chance to blink before the two of them came after him. He gulped, “Should’ve stayed in bed.” Nick prepared himself when suddenly, a cold chill went down his spine. Weiss and Winter immediately recognized the look of fear on his face and stopped their approach while he pulled out his scroll to call his sister. “Pick up. Come on Summer, pick up!” He muttered.

xxxx

Summer felt like an idiot. Of course nothing has changed. Why would it? A talk didn’She walked faster, out pacing Veronica.

“Hey, slow down. I haven’t told you where we’re going.” Veronica said, but Summer didn’t listen. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I may not come here often but I live here. I’ll find my way without you.” Summer said, grunting as she forced her way through dense branches and bushes.

“Can you not act like a child for once!?” Veronica yelled, running after her. “And stop ignoring me!” Veronica was near her wits end.

“.........”

And then she reached it. Veronica’s tail and tensed up. “Summer!” Veronica yelled again, going through the bushes. “I said stop ignoring-” the potent odor of peppermint invaded her senses out of nowhere. Veronica looked around the area, seeing nothing. Nothing, but a frozen lake, shimmering with diamond dust below the surface; and Summer standing in place, shivering.

“Summer…?” She said, concerned this time. Her words didn’t reach, not immediately. The scent wasn’t only coming from the lake. Veronica didn’t dare to move as she watched a finger point across the water. Her eyes looked in that direction to see nothing but scared trees and large rocks that had been chipped rather deep.

“A fight?” Veronica thought. She looked closer. All the markings looked to be going outward and from one spot. A spot several feet off the lake. Even with all the dust, it was clear that spot smelled the most foul. “No, an explosion.” Her attention went back to Summer. “A dust explosion.” Veronica yelled again. “Hey! Summer! Answer me, please!?” She could no longer be calm. Veronica ran to the girl screaming her name.

Summer might as well have been deaf to Veronica’s voice. All she heard was laughter. Her laughter, coming from Shiva skating on the ice.

“Hahahahaha! Oh wow! We haven’t been here in ages Summer!!!” Grinning and filled with joy, Shiva extended her hand, “Summer, come join me!” The glow of her eyes grew more dazzling, as well as her smile. “Just like before….”

#rwby #rwby au #sparrow branwen #rwby twin snowflakes #weiss schnee #winter schnee #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #qrow branwen #veronica belladonna #oscar pine

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smrwine · 4 years

Text

Louis walked down Main Street in a bit of a haste.

Sunny Santa Monica was bustling fluidly with tourists, visitors, and locals alike. The long weekend drew people towards the boardwalk and shoreline, and into the shops and restaurants that were not too far off from them. But unlike the others, Louis was drawn in by a dinner date with a man six years his senior. Harry was his name. A 31 year-old entrepreneur with green eyes, broad shoulders, and an alluringly deep accent that reminded Louis of home.

Despite only having a few conversations through nights out with mates, Harry was kind enough to invite Louis to join him for early dinner at one of his restaurants, followed by a walk near the beach at sunset. Just the two of them. It was an incredibly romantic proposition, with a sprinkle of Harry’s boasting, but with Louis’ bad luck with American men, he was not going to pass up the glorious opportunity.

Harry generously offered to pick him up, but Louis declined at the last second. He was only 24 in Los Angeles, the second largest city in America, and letting an older man have his West Hollywood address struck him as not cautious. It turned out to be the wrong call, however, judging by how poorly he timed his bus-to-train route and how late he was running. His hair was windswept from the ocean breeze, and the tail end of his blouse was wrinkled from squirming around in the bus seat. He had very little time to fix himself up before entering the doors of Harry’s place, on the main street of Santa Monica, and Louis felt every bit of pressure to make a nice first impression.

In a split second, he pivoted toward a parked black car that he caught his reflection in. The paint job was equally as sleek as the blacked out windows, and the car was clearly from another era. More than likely the 1970s. It was admirably Los Angeles-esque but also served as a decent mirror for Louis’ vanity.

He flicked his soft fringe out of his eyes and placed certain strands in more desirable areas. It was an exceptionally delicate process he took his time with to make sure every lock was in its right place. Louis combed his fingers through until he looked presentable for the public.

Slowly, he turned and looked over his shoulder to smooth out the wrinkles near his bum. He pressed his hands from the middle of his blouse and over his arse in an attempt to iron everything out. Unfortunately, the material sprung back toward him and left him with no other option but to tuck it in.

With swift hands, Louis tucked the tail end into his trousers and continued tuck around the front. The white lace of his underwear slipped out for a brief second but was quickly concealed as he caught it in the reflection of the car. His knickers were for Harry’s eyes only, should he get so lucky.

Once Louis deemed his outfit presentable, he pulled his tinted strawberry lip balm from his pocket and swiped it across his lips. The mirror-like coating on the windows worked perfectly in his pinch and assisted him effortlessly. As his lips turned a desirable shade of pink, he capped his lip balm tightly and stored it back into the safety of his pocket. He moved closer to the window to fix his hair one last time, just to be sure he looked pretty enough for Harry, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the horn honked blaringly in his ear.

Louis squealed in a tone only dogs and small children could hear and sprung back nearly three meters from the car. His poor, little heart was fluttering from the sudden piercing sound and tripled in rhythm as the car window rolled down before him.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” a voice from inside the vehicle called. “I thought surely you had stood me up this time.”

Louis took a deep breath and approached the classic car again.

“Harry?”

The older man was dressed sharply in pleated trousers and a tight fitting shirt. His hair was pushed back off his forehead, and his beard was trimmed just enough to show he made an effort. He had subtle crows feet by his eyes and his calloused hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. He made the car look tiny with how cramped his body was in there. Louis nearly moaned at the sight of him and the bulge of his tattooed biceps.

“It’s truly a pleasure to see you, Louis.”

“You scared me,” Louis exhaled and braced himself against the door. “I was just about to head in, I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, love. I was quite enjoying the free little show you put on for me. You look incredible in white.”

Louis could not help the flush of his sun-kissed skin and the embers of fire that whirled like a storm inside of his belly. He was wearing a soft crimson top, which definitely meant Harry saw things he was not meant to see yet.

Harry gave him an obvious once over and bit his lip as if he were hungry.

“Thank you,” Louis trembled. “What are you doing out here then? Were you about to leave?”

“About to, yeah, but I’m definitely not going anywhere else now that you’re here.”

Louis giggled at how thick Harry was laying it on. He was a gentleman and sweet, but despite how polite he was being, Louis was sure Harry had to be a bit peeved at how long Louis kept him waiting.

“So, you’re willing to forgive my tardiness? You like what you see that much?”

“I like everything I see, and saw, enough to forgive just about anything right now,” Harry said with a smirk. “And I’d still love to get more acquainted with you, if you’re up for it? Dinner is still on me and my staff, or we can go elsewhere. Whatever you’d like, sweetheart.”

“Well, I’d like it if you got out and properly greeted me first of all,” Louis said. “And then I’ll decide what we’ll do after you apologize to me for honking.”

Harry laughed out loud and unbuckled himself from his seat. He pushed the door open and stood to his full height as he closed it forcefully behind him. He was gorgeously tall as he walked over and was easily a head over Louis as he stood in his presence.

Louis’ heart thud against his chest again, and his knees went severely weak as he caught a stiff whiff of Harry’s expensive cologne on his clothes.

With strong arms, Harry pulled Louis in for a proper cuddle, and squeezed him tightly as if he would slip away. His chest was warm, solid, and everything Louis wanted to encompass himself in all evening long. His hands were big as they splayed across Louis’ back and slid down to gather at the curvy dips of his hips.

“Hello, Louis,” he whispered roughly and deep, sending a shiver down his spine. “I apologize for spooking you with my horn. I just couldn’t help myself, the opportunity was there.”

Harry belly laughed once more, and Louis bit down on his own.

“You should have seen your face,” Harry went on. “It was priceless, baby. Absolutely priceless.”

“You’re unbearable,” Louis said. “I’m beginning to think it should be me who’s on my way out of here.”

“No! Sorry, sorry,” Harry swallowed down his contagious laughter. “I just didn’t expect to be able to make you scream before even saying hello.”

Louis simpered, sinfully.

“You’d be lucky to make me scream again,” he said. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first at least.”

Part 1/?

Patreon saw it first

#larry stylinson #larry smut #larry fanfiction #larry fic #larry fic rec #hmm #reading this over again was......#something

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ironstarker · 4 years

Note

Tony Stark is a mob boss who has set his sites eyes on Peter Parker, a florist request

Notes: I started this and then accidentally closed the tab so needless to say a tear was shed. I ate some ice cream and decided to get it together so I could redo this. I’ve learned my lesson and will never tempt fate again. This deviated quite a bit from what I originally intended, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :)

Warning(s): Underage, Kidnapping, Started off cute and turned into a darkfic?, Happy is the narrator, Starker is implied and they don’t directly interact, Tony is a Creep

_______________________________________________________________________

All day, a black Cadillac Escalade made its home outside of the flower shop on the corner of Parsons and 79th in Queens. Its windows remained rolled up, and the heavy tinting didn’t let any passerby see into the vehicle. Had they been able to, perhaps they would’ve made out the shape of a burly man who puffed on Cubans and, in general, didn’t take his eyes off of the front door to Parker’s Flowers. He was on his third cigar for the day, a record considering he was trying to quit, when his phone buzzed from somewhere in his breast pocket. The man grunted, sticking the cigar between his lips to jam his hand inside his jacket all without taking his eyes off the front door of the shop. He’d been sitting out there so long that he knew they’d had seven customers today, and it was nearing four in the afternoon.

It was a miracle they were still in business.

Without looking at the caller ID, he swiped his finger across the screen and brought it to his ear. Happy had just taken his cigar from his lips when he heard a voice cutting through on the other end, clear as day,

“And how is my boy today, Hap?”

If Happy heard the sound of wailing in the background, he pretended not to notice. “Think he’s good, boss. He went inside around his usual time after school. Been there about an hour. It’s Tuesday, so he’s closing tonight.” By now, Happy had gotten accustomed to the kid’s routine.

He heard a hum of acknowledgement on the other end of the phone. There was a wet sound and then more sobbing, garbled begging short to follow. He heard his boss give an exasperated sigh. “What did we discuss, Mr. Beck?” Happy listened to his boss’s voice, taking another puff from his cigar. “I warned you to keep away from him.” As Happy exhaled more smoke into the main cabin of the car, he heard another scream that was cut off by a dull thud and a click of a lock.

“Noisy one, boss?”

The snorted laugh he received in response made him grin. “You know, for a history teacher he doesn’t seem to understand Hammurabi’s Code.”

Happy grunted. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“An eye for an eye, Hap. He put his hands on my boy, so now I am entitled to my pound of flesh.” The other man paused, the line silent. Happy waited. There was a tinkling of ice against a glass, the sound of a bottle being set down against a table. “And I will be taking the full pound that is owed. I think it’s about time we introduce ourselves to the kid, don’t you?”

Happy grinned around his cigar. He pulled it from where he’d held it between his teeth, smoke leaving his mouth as he said, “Dinner reservations for two, boss?”

“Three. Don’t forget Mr. Beck.”

“How does eight sound, boss?”

“Perfect.”

The line disconnected. Happy waited there, dutiful as ever. His eyes were trained on the door to the little shop. About an hour later, a woman left. The kid’s aunt, he knew. Happy’s eyes strayed from the door to follow her as she sauntered out, hips swaying, hair blowing a little too much in the wind. It was getting in her face. His thumb traced across his bottom lip as he watched her go. Happy’s eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, and he lowered the partition. She didn’t stop, didn’t even spare the car so much as a passing glance. He rolled the partition back up.

By the time that eight rolled around, Parker Flowers had all of sixteen customers. Happy counted eleven left with purchases. He was going to have to start a bet with the other boys. The place looked like it would go under within a week if this kept up.

A boy emerged, untying an apron to leave it dangling loosely around his body and wiping at his cheek. Dirt, probably. The kid always left with dirt smudged on his hands and his face, his curls everywhere. Happy saw the appeal, but he wouldn’t dare go after what belonged to Tony. He didn’t need that kind of trouble over some jailbait kid.

He opened the car door and flicked his cigar out into the street, not bothering to snub it out. The kid wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, he was tugging hard on the door, trying to force it shut so he could lock it with the rusted key in his hand. Happy pushed the door to the driver’s side shut and stood there a moment, hand on the car, watching this kid fighting with the door. It didn’t take much to come to the conclusion that the door was winning.

“Need a hand, kid?”

As soon as the boy stopped trying to put his weight into it, the door creaked and returned to the position it had been in before: a smidge open, just enough so you could see the place where the deadbolt locked into. Happy grinned. “Safe to say the door’s kicking your ass, don’t you think?” He strolled up to the kid, who had stepped back from the door and was smiling, scratching at the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. Oh, yeah. He knew why Tony had an obsession with this one, alright. Happy reached for the door and slammed it shut, the wooden frame creaking as it fell into place.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Even as he said it, the kid was locking the door while Happy held it shut for him. He seemed to hesitate after he pocketed the key, eyeing the tall man and then his car.

Happy smiled down at him, reaching out to set a hand against the kid’s shoulder. His eyes went wide, like a deer stuck in headlights. “Believe me when I say that I did, kid. The name’s Happy Hogan.” He took his hand off the kid’s shoulder and stuck it out in offering.

The kid didn’t take it.

“I’m Peter,” he said, eyes slipping to the left, towards the banner that hung over the door of the shop, “ — Parker. Peter Parker.”

“You need a lift home, Peter Parker?”

That spooked look returned to the kid’s face. Happy hoped he’d say yes, because as much as he didn’t mind kidnapping for Tony’s sake, that shit got old.

“I — you know, I don’t. It’s a block up the road, not too far.” His hands were twisting in the fabric of the apron that was loose on his frame. Happy’s eyes went to the backpack slung over one of the kid’s shoulders. “Thanks again for — for your help.”

Happy stood there for all of a second as the kid tried skirting around him. He didn’t give the bigger man a wide enough berth, and it wasn’t hard for Happy to snag him by his backpack and haul him back. The kid yelped like a kicked puppy, and Happy grinned to himself. Tony was going to love this kid. As soon as he got his hold on Peter, his hand went to the boy’s neck, fingers pinching his skin as he guided him towards the car. The kid tried digging his heels into the pavement, but it wasn’t working.

“Let me give you a ride. And don’t get any ideas in your head about screaming or I’ll knock your block off.”

“Mr. Hogan, sir, I don’t think — ”

Happy pulled the door to the Escalade open, listening to the pitiful sound the kid made in the back of his throat. It was almost a sob, but not quite. “In.”

He shoved the kid by the scruff of his neck towards the car. Peter stumbled, but scrambled inside like he was told. He clung to his backpack. Happy eyed the boy thoughtfully from where he pressed up against the other side of the car, trying to make himself look small. Happy saw the way the kid’s eyes went to the door handle. “Don’t bother. I’ve got the kiddie locks on.” Happy winked at him. He almost felt bad when he saw a tear slide down the kid’s cheek. Almost. “Don’t worry, kid. Mr. Stark’s going to show you a good time tonight.” Peter’s eyes went wide, but Happy slammed the door shut in his face before he could say a word.

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #tony x peter #tony stark #peter parker #happy hogan #quentin beck #my fic #prompt fic #prompts

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glumpiglet · 4 years

Text

A Misunderstanding (F!ReaderxBeetlejuice)

So I made another one of these, I’m a greedy little bottom and only the thought of bug boi can satisfy me….. This is the point where I tell you I’m shamelessly self-inserting myself as the reader at this point. I’ve not done a lot of Xreader writing, so I’m learning I’m not great at making characters neutral, there are multiple things that just uh ... seemed to serve where I wanted the story to go so I used it XD sorry peeps I’m so bad

p.s thanks again to @boopeen for making the prompt post. I’m sure this wasn’t what they were thinking it would be used for XD

p.p.s my requests are open so slide into them if you feel so inclined. Love you guys <3

TW: Swearing, Drug Use, sprinkle of angst.

Angst: “I don’t want to do this anymore,”

Fluff: “please hug me, I really need it.”

Walking through your front door, you had to expel a sigh in relief, another long day at work done. Hanging up your purse and keys, you expected to be ambushed. Confused at the lack of.. Well any life in your apartment. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

Calling out for the company who you left this morning; you weren’t summoning him half as much lately. It seems to be he was just….. Sticking around.

“Hello?”

Where the hell was he? Inspecting the apartment for any trace, you came up empty. Part of you didn’t want to risk bothering him if he was actually busy with something.

On the other hand, you were selfish. There was only one way you wanted to spend your evening.

“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.” As per usual, you braced yourself for the explosion that was the arrival of your BFF from beyond the grave.

Silence.

Shrugging, you turned towards your bedroom. He was either actually busy, or trying to scare you. Most likely the latter, you weren’t exactly in the mood for a spook right now. You voiced that opinion out loud, and got no response.

The lights were off in your room, a chill in the air causing goosebumps on your arms.

In the corner, you could see two glowing orbs in the blackness.

You always were a jumpy person. You could run into a stranger turning a corner on a sidestreet, and scream bloody murder. A certain someone loved to use that to his advantage.

Nerves tense, you turned on the light. Ready for any amount of shock and horror that awaited you. Your eyes took in your normal bedroom. Rolling them, you took a step forward into the room, ready to call out once again.

“Boo.”

Luckily you were able to stop yourself from making any sound other than a gasp, whirling around to almost bump noses with Beetlejuice. Heart pounding, you reached out to shove him in the chest.

“Asshole!” Scooped up tight in his cold embrace, it was impossible to not feel the flush of utter happiness of seeing him after the day you had. All he had to do was give you that earnest crooked smile and you were already forgiving him.

“Mmm.. Watch your language, babes. Or I might have to spank you.” Chuckling in his arms, you took stock of Beetlejuice practically glowing green. Someone was feeling good.

“Hello, BJ. How was your day?”

“Great! I spent the morning scaring people in your hallway, I think I permanently scarred the guy two doors down, it was so hilarious!” Continuing to giggle as you extracted yourself from his grip, you turned towards the vanity, beginning the task of taking make-up off, removing your jewelry.

BJ watched you in the mirror, as always invading your personal space, murmuring into your hair.

“Then I had to...Go back for something..” The vagueness of his demeanor made you pause. Beetlejuice was always open and honest, perhaps a bit too much, actually definitely too much at all times. It was a trait that in equal parts you admired while simultaneously it annoyed you.

“Yeah, I got home and I was like, ‘where is he?’” Finished, you gently pulled him by his lapels. Taking the short trip through the hallway to the living room, depositing him on your sofa and sitting beside him. Taking his arm to wrap around your shoulder, you made yourself comfortable, knowing for a fact Beetlejuice would not mind in the slightest.

“Aw, miss me that much, babes?”

“Maybe…” Reaching out to take the remote. You turned the t.v on just for the background noise, some episode of a show you had seen multiple times. Snuggling further into BJ, you couldn’t stop your heart racing once more as his hands began to wander, running down your sides to rub at your thighs.

“Hell yeah, this is what I’m talking about,” Scoffing at how he could take any affectionate moment and instantly make it sexual, not that you were helping matters by throwing yourself over him. Before he got too carried away, you linked your fingers with his and held them in your lap.

“Be quiet please,”

This was the part of your day you could always look forward to, BJ had been teaching himself to chill out recently. It was hard to come home from work daily to a feral, sexually charged adolescent bouncing off your walls. You weren’t trying to change BJ, god no it was completely give and take, you were good for each other. He gave you spontaneous fun, letting you not take things too seriously. In contrast, you were trying to explain to him why some things were important to breathers, why you had to go to work everyday, pay the bills, etc.

It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open. Feeling yourself slowly drifting off, you were dozing off on your friend…

Very few ‘friendships’ you had ever had involved as much cuddling as you did with Beetlejuice. Sure, nothing was ever run of the mill when it came to the demonic hurricane that was the self proclaimed ghost with the most. Not to mention the flirting. And long, quiet moments just gazing at each other, so close your breaths would intermingle…

Beetlejuice’s scent was one of the first hurdles you had to deal with in the beginning. You did realize you were hanging out with a dead guy, nothing could be done for his overall awful appearance.

In your youth, you had briefly wanted to be a mortician, morbid change of topic nonetheless, but you had the chance to experience a lot of dead bodies in that time. You didn’t ultimately go through with the career, but those memories always stuck with you.

So you were horrified when you first came in close contact with him, which was within the first two seconds of meeting, for he truly smelt dead. The association of it was the oddest sense of deja vu. The pungent, off smell was something you tried to ignore for as long as you could, not wanting to appear rude.

One time, the two of you were just sitting around the house all day, and you were asking him questions. About Death. The Netherworld. His life before you had known each other.

When you broached the topic of if he ever bathed, it seemed to confuse him. You knew it had been a stupid question, why would he? He had never been alive. Nor did he ever stay corporeal for long, before he met you. Stupid breather things like hygiene didn’t matter in the Netherworld.

“Would….you want me to start?” The question had been so tentative, you immediately felt bad for opening your mouth.

“No..No Beetlejuice, you’re right. You’ve never had to before, you don’t have to start now. I’ll get used to it.”

The matter was dropped and you had pulled him closer, insistence on squeezing tighter to prove to him it didn’t truly matter.

The next day you came home to your house in chaos. It looked like there had been a flood, water was everywhere and clones were on hands and knees with towels. At your appearance, there was a brief moment in time where everything stood still. You were standing in the doorway with eight pairs of eyes on you.

Then they attacked.

“She’s not supposed to be home yet!”

“Boss is gonna kill us!”

“Shut up, idiot!”

“Hey babes! Lookin’ good today.”

“Funny story, sweetness. Just a little accident,”

Hands grabbed at your arms, curving along your back as they led you into your living room, where the water luckily had not reached.

“Wait-wait. Everybody calm down. What’s happened?” Confusion did not abate as you saw Beetlejuice shuffle in from the hallway, looking unbelievably contrite. His head turned down, he wouldn’t even meet your eye as he mumbled out a:

“Hey,”

Expressing your bewilderment again, you shooed the hands off of you. You weren’t angry, but you were beginning to feel your hair begin to rise at the fact no one was actually giving you an answer.

“Sorry..We uh..might of kind of….floodedyourbathtub.” Not catching the whispered end, you stayed puzzled. Realizing something else was different, other than the disorder, you finally took notice of him.

He looked….Well he looked hot as fuck. You had never seen him in such a state of undress. His jacket and tie was gone, his cuffs rolled up to expose masculine forearms. He was also… surprisingly clean. His shirt was still dirt ridden, but the skin underneath shined porcelain. The sight of him without the usual grime that accompanied him made you pause.

Nothing could stop the flush you felt working its way over your face, if he knew he was making you blush you’d never hear the end of it, you had to stop before he noticed.

Eyes snapped back to his face.

“Your hair’s wet...Why-....Did you shower?” Looking from clone to clone, you noticed them all in different states of wetness/cleanliness. Some looked like they didn’t even get washed.

“You’re all wet…..Did you guys all shower together?”

The picture was beginning to form in your head, you couldn’t stop the incredulous giggle from the image of them all cramming into your one person bathroom.

“....Are you mad?”

Looking at Beetlejuice, you saw the anxious, fidgety demon trying to appear remorseful. He was too fucking cute, were you mad about him trying to clean himself up after you had selfishly told him he stunk? Opening up the floodgates, you began to laugh heartily, reaching out to hug him.

It was weird. He smelt the same, but different. His usual pungent stench you associated with death wasn’t gone completely, but it definitely wasn’t making your eyes water. Mostly, he smelt earthy, like a field after it rained. There was another familiar smell that was making you feel nostalgic, you realized it was probably because he used he Irish Spring you kept for emergencies, of course he would use the big green bottle, your silly bug.

“You’re so funny. Why would I get mad? It was an accident,” Shaking your head, you tried not to give a name to the fluttering in your stomach, and turned towards the nearest clone, running your hand through his damp locks, listening to him preen into your palm.

“Maybe next time, just do it one by one please,” Grabbing the towel from the clone’s grip, you walked to the edge of the puddle in your house and dropped the towel, soaking up the water.

Turning around, you felt the prickle of discomfort on your skin as you saw them all still staring. You loved the clones, thought they all had their own personalities and had more fun hanging out with them than your actual friends most times.

It still never failed to make you uneasy when they did this, observing you like prey. You couldn’t tell what they were collectively thinking, and their boss certainly wasn’t helping.

“Seriously, it’s just water guys, really it’s fine. Look nothing was even damaged.”

“Come on, I’ll help you finish.”

So that’s how you spent the rest of your day, mopping and rotating the towels they used until the floor was just damp, and called it good enough. That night, you had a full cuddle puddle with them all as you watched scary movies till dawn.

He had even started brushing his teeth for you. The first time you had walked in on him, fangs and droopy tongue covered in foam as it looked like he was attempting to choke himself with the extra toothbrush you kept in your cabinet. Not that you ever expected anyone else to use it other than yourself when your old one had lost the bristles, but the idea of BJ taking the second slot in your toothbrush holder made you pause. The heavy feeling in your chest coupled with the affection you couldn’t help but feel. You knew you were in trouble.

You were in love with Beetlejuice.

Being shook, you jolted out of your slumber. Opening your eyes, you realized you had fallen asleep on him. You expected him to maybe make some snarky comment that he wasn’t a pillow, but he just looked at you with an expression hard to place.

Mumbling out an apology, you remove yourself from on top of him, walking out of your room into the kitchen, catching sight of BJ floating beside you.

“Tired?”

“Just a long week, thank god tomorrow Friday.” Opening your fridge, you grimaced. It was time for some grocery shopping. Just deciding on an apple for the moment, you heard Beetlejuice rasp over your shoulder.

“It’s okay, sweet cheeks. I got just the thing for you to suck on.”

Spinning around, poised to throw a jab, the momentum left when you took sight of BJ looking at you mischievously, hand outstretched with a large joint between his pale fingers.

No amount of stubbornness could stop the smile on your face. Beetlejuice was incorrigible.

You snatched it from his hands as he giggled as mischievous as a child, you opened up your living room window and sat on the nook you so love to habitat often. Amused as BJ, just as you had on the couch, practically circled into your lap like a house cat. Not being able to fit himself, he huffed and settled his head on your legs instead.

Your landlord luckily was a 60 year old hippie that grew in your community backyard, you still didn’t need your place reeking of weed. Especially with the potent Netherworld shit he brought around.

Passing the joint back and forth, BJ blew intricate smoke rings around your head. Shaking your head, loving it, shifting through your hair. Blaming the high, gaining courage from the stuff, you began to attempt your own rings, amused at how they couldn’t keep shape. You loved the blanketing feeling that was passing over you.

Beetlejuice was practically purring, nuzzling into your legs. Without thinking, you began to scratch at his head. You really didn’t need a pet when you had BJ around. Watching as pink peeked through his roots, Beetlejuice butted the roach into the ashtray, setting his sights on you.

The air was thick with tension, unconsciously you lifted your legs, bringing his face closer, eyes bouncing between his, trying to figure him out.

This was a favourite game between the two of you. The classic game of chicken. It didn’t help that you were always the one to break first. It was just a lot of conflicting feelings.

It would be so easy to say yes to Beetlejuice, give into his obvious advances, but you didn’t want to be some breather booty call. Sure, the two of you had a great friendship, the thought of ruining it with your dumb feelings scared the shit out of you.

But you were only human. And an incredibly high one at the moment.

Sighing, turning your head away, you mumbled. “I don’t want to do this anymore,”

You were happy to get this off your shoulders, sad at the idea of his rejection and unbelievably ripped. Letting slip a pathetic giggle, the multiple emotions were causing tears to well in your eyes. This. He was just so important to you. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this and you were so nervous what his reaction would be.

“I see. I knew this was gonna happen eventually….Bye (Y/N).”

Wait, what?

Tilting your head up, you saw Beetlejuice standing up, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Huh? No! BJ look at me please.” You jumped up, snatching at his jacket sleeve, forcing him to turn, but he wouldn’t look at you. What the hell just happened?

You felt your mouth go dry as you realized the way he had interpreted what you said. Oh no..

“I didn’t mean it that way at all. I mean.. I’m over just being friends, playing this game with you…. Not that it isn’t fun!”

You were digging yourself deeper, the words you wanted to say weren’t coming out.

What you wanted to say was ‘I love you Beetlejuice. I want you to move in with me and become more than friends.’ The weed was causing your mind to move in slow motion, this was the absolute worst timing for this. What the fuck were you doing?

No, no more of this. You weren’t backing down from this.

Beetlejuice wasn’t helping. In the midst of your freak out, someone was also happening to him. His hair had gone black as night. You had never seen him so...Blank. It would have been better if he was angry or obviously upset, you could deal with that. You had seen that before.

This was more terrifying than anything.

“No.. Not game as in I don’t take us seriously….I’m fucking this up so bad..” Babbling to him, he wasn’t saying anything. Continuing to just look in the distance, like you weren’t even speaking to him.

“Calm down BJ, please. I’m so sorry for just blurting that out. Let me explain.”

There was a quiet, tense moment you thought he was going to say no, leave you still. Hurt eyes slowly turned to look at you as he backed away, distancing himself from you.

Taking a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.

“When I said that, I meant that...done. I want us to… Be more to each other. Have a relationship.”

There. You had said it out loud. Still, you couldn’t stop the word vomit from continuing.

“I’m just… If that isn’t what you want Beetlejuice, you can tell me.. I want you to tell me-”

“Babes?”

“Yes, BJ?”

“Please hug me, I really need it.” Without speaking you rush over, climbing onto him, clutching desperately at his back, not believing how close you came from losing him. Unbelievably lucky that everything turned out Beetlejuice breathed your scent in deeply, muttering something into your neck.

Pulling back, you can’t help but continue the tears tracking down your face as you see his own glittering like amber.

“You scared me.”

Sniffling, you hide your face into his shoulder. That’s the worst thing he could have said to you. The fact that once again, boring, average you was reminded how much this powerful creature’s world revolved around you. It was the most humbling experience imaginable.

Striving to keep your mouth shut, you just breathed in the quiet moment. Basking in each other. No secrets, no hidden feelings.

“Woah. I’ve…..Never felt that before,”

“I know, honey. I’m so dumb. If I were just more honest with you, we could have been doing this so much sooner,”

“You’re not dumb, babes. I know i can be…. A lot.” Scoffing, you cover his mouth with your hand, watching his expression become one of surprise.

“Thank you, BJ. You are not too much..” Giggling, you lean towards him, “You’re just right.”

Not wanting to speak anymore, needing to finally show him how much you wanted him. You kissed Beetlejuice for the first time. You expected him to be eager, sloppy and immediately hot and bothered. Nothing could have prepared you for him to be so sweet and gentle. It made your heart hurt with regret. Why didn’t you want to tell him how you felt? There was still a lot to talk about, but there was something else you needed to show him first.

Pulling away, the two of you were flushed and panting, you licked your lips and watched as his eyes flitted to them.

“But it’s okay. I know a perfect way I could make it up to you.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice prompt #beetlejuice musical #prompts #angst and fluff

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mlm-writer · 4 years

Text

Another One Bites the... Endrega?

Gif source

Pairing: Platonic Geralt of Rivia (Game ver.) x Peter Parker (T.H. ver) Rating: Mature for violence Words: 2590 POV: Third Summary: After losing his parents, Peter makes the journey to Novigrad to live with aunt May and uncle Ben. However, the road is not without dangers. Fortunately, Peter has lady luck on his side. Note: Last of the crossover works! Also that spider got to bite Peter so often. I pulled on uno reverse card on that shit. Tags: action, fantasy, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, fight scenes, monsters and mild Witcher 3 spoilers of what happens in Novigrad

Branches cracked beneath his feet, as he ran as fast as he could through the forest. The moon illuminated the night, showing him the way through the bed of leaves that covered his vision of the night sky. Peter was unsure if he should scream for help or if that would attract even more of these spider-like creatures that chased him. Lady luck was on his side as he saw light flickering in the distance. A smile spread over his face as he put the last of his energy into getting help.

Peter screamed for help, when he approached the light. A figure with white hair that reflected the moonlight stood up from near the campfire. Yellow eyes made themselves clear in the dark and Peter knew he was saved. He ran past the man, stopping when he was behind him. The witcher grabbed his silver sword and Peter watched him slay the beasts, though not without struggle. Peter had not looked behind since he last caught a glimpse of one of those things, so only now he realised there were at least a dozen of them and the witcher struggled taking that many all at once.

The blade swung with finesse through the air, the peeking moonlight reflecting off it, until it got stained with monster blood. One of the spider-like creatures bit the witcher in the leg. He tried to shake it off as his blade slashed through the other monsters. Even Peter could tell that the witcher had to free his leg soon or it was a lost fight. The young boy looked around, trying to find a weapon, but unless he somehow could get a hold of the second sword on the wither’s back, there was none. He had to think quickly. Act quickly.

Peter lashed out and jumped the monster that had its teeth into the witcher and… gave it a taste of it’s own medicine. It let go as Peter’s teeth struck through a particularly soft patch on their body. It bucked and threw the boy off. Peter coughed, spitting out the blood that had gathered in his mouth. Head started getting fuzzy immediately. He hoped the witcher was alive. It sounded like it, but everything sounded muted, as if there was a wall between him and reality.

He heaved, the air in his lungs prickling. Vomit covered the ground below him and he coughed, clutching his chest in pain. Strong hands lifted him up and placed him against a tree. “Do not swallow. Just rinse your mouth,” a low muted voice cut its way through his panic. Peter followed the instructions, taking the water offered to him. It did not help. Then suddenly, clarity as if there was a spell casted on him. It still hurt and he still felt like he was dying, but the panic was gone, he could think clearly of what to do next.

“Listen, I could try to give you something, but it might kill you.” Peter understood. He nodded and reached out for whatever could either save or kill him. The alternative was just dying anyway. It was not hard to tell with the excruciating pain. He took the bottle, hardly looking at the red fluid, before downing it as fast as he could. More coughing. More pain. Then nothing.

---

Geralt sighed as he watched over the young man. Were it not for the boy’s foolish actions, he would have died today. The boy was sweating, his brown hair sticking to his forehead, but his face looked pale enough for him to be dead. The witcher threw another stick into the fire, trying to keep the boy that saved his life warm. At least he was not dying of hypothermia.

The fact that the stranger was not screaming from pain was a good sign, but that did not mean he would make it through the night. Night turned to day and Geralt awoke to the sound of a coughing fit. He helped the boy sit up and handed him some water. Once the boy was no longer coughing, their eyes locked. “Thank you, master witcher,” the boy spoke hoarsely.

“You are lucky to be alive. Biting an Endrega was really stupid.” The boy nodded and sat up, arms shaking. “You are also lucky to survive ingesting a witcher potion. I think you might even pull through this, kid.” He nodded again, understanding his situation. A small smile spread over his lips when he got the news he was probably going to survive. “What’s your name?”

The boy looked at him with a hazy gaze. He seemed to think very hard, before he could answer. “Peter,” he ended up saying, “sorry, my head is all fuzzy.” Geralt placed a hand on Peter’s head. It felt really hot.

“You’re running a fever. Your body is still burning through all the toxins. Where are your parents?” The boy looked down. Right. The war. Another orphan then.

“They died. I’m heading to my aunt in uh…” He paused, thinking again. “Novigrad.” Geralt huffed. This boy was probably lady luck’s own bloody son.

“That’s where I’m headed. I’ll drop you off at a healer there.” The boy thanked him over and over until he got caught in a coughing fit again. “Don’t mention it. I drop you off and we do not owe each other anything.” Peter nodded, finally shutting up.

The journey to Novigrad was a long one. Peter was weak, only getting a little better each day. He had to rest a lot, but he was good company. Geralt could see he was the type to chat his ears off, but speaking brought Peter into a coughing fit, so words were rare. Geralt learned Peter’s parents died in the Battle of White Orchard. Peter was also good with horses or at least with Roach. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the farmer’s boy, but there was something special about him too.

Peter tried to offer his mother’s ring as payment for the escort, but Geralt did not accept. By the time they closed in on the gates of Novigrad, Peter seemed to be doing well enough to get home on his own. He insisted he finished the journey on his own two legs and Geralt had business to tend to, so their ways parted at the gates. After finding Dandelion, he thought he was done in Novigrad. After all, Ciri was not there, but Geralt’s path was bound to converge with Peter’s once more.

Geralt needed coin for the journey to Skellige. There was a contract on a ‘giant, humanoid, red spider’. It apparently attacked some people. It was a menace to track down. Tracks ended on walls that even Geralt could not climb. There was no distinctive scent either. He followed the trail of thick, abnormally strong spiderwebs to a house near Oxenfurt Gate in the Bits. Downstairs was a workshop that looked untouched for a couple of weeks. Spiderwebs spooked in the corners, but none matched what he found on the buildings in other parts of the Bits.

“Anybody home?” He called out. Feet rushed over the first floor and headed to the stairs. Geralt watched as someone came down the stairs, skinny but muscular legs, followed by a lean body and then… a very familiar face.

“Geralt!” Peter exclaimed joyfully. In a flash Geralt found himself being hugged tightly by the boy. He froze, unsure what to do. “It is great to see you! Look!” Peter stepped back and did a little dance. “I’m all good and healthy!” The boy paused, then frowned. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

The witcher looked around, eyes scanning over the workshop that looked abandoned. “What happened to this workshop?” Peter’s smile disappeared. He cleared his throat and looked down.

“Uncle Ben died. It was his. I uh… meant to pick up his work, but… it’s just hard to touch his stuff.” Geralt answered with a grunt and a nod. He stepped around, careful to not touch anything. “You need anything? I can make stuff as well. Combs, mirrors, machinery components, you name it. I’ll make anything for you at half the price…”

“I’m looking for the red spider man that has been attacking people ‘round here.” Geralt was right. Peter really could talk a lot. Dandelion would love him. Peter grew awfully quiet. Geralt could hear his heart pounding rapidly. When he looked at the boy, there was no eye-contact. “Peter, if you know anything, you need to tell me. This thing could attack you too.”

Peter finally looked up, shaking his head. “No! It is not like that! I mean…” He moved around restlessly. “Spiderman saved me! He does that a lot! He attacks bandits and other bad people. He would not harm me.” Lies. Geralt could tell, but he wondered why Peter would lie about it.

“This spider man attacked some commoners.” “Maybe those commoners were attacking someone else.”

Geralt raised a brow. That was a really quick answer. “Peter, I am not asking again. What do you know?” Peter seemed to get smaller under his threatening gaze. He mumbled something that even Geralt could not hear. “Speak up.” Peter took a deep breath, before speaking in a small voice.

“I’ll lead you to Spiderman. Meet me at midnight behind the city walls, between Oxenfurt and South Gate.” “Just tell me where he is. No need to bring you into danger as well.’ “Like I said, master witcher, sir, Spiderman will not harm me or any other innocent person.” “You don’t know that.” “But I do and you will too, tonight.”

The boy fidgeted in place. He offered the witcher a cup of tea. Geralt refused and left. He had some other matters to attend to, before leaving for Skellige. It was raining that night. The moon was hardly visible, only a thin crescent hung in the sky, leaving that night’s illumination to the flickering fires from the city. Geralt’s witcher senses were triggered when he heard something behind him. Down from the wall came a figure clad in red with a mask that reminded him of one that Dandelion wore during his scheme with Sophronia. Geralt reached for his silver sword, but stopped when the figure stood before him. Even at a distance, Geralt could recognise the faint scent of that neglected workshop. His first thought was that Peter got eliminated, before he could meet Geralt, but as the spider man stood before him, he noticed a similar build, a similar height, a similar way of cowering before the witcher. “Peter?”

The figure reached for his mask and indeed, as the leather came off, there was the scared, but unnecessarily brave boy from the forest. “Hello, Geralt, sir,” the boy almost whispered. Geralt lowered his arm, sighing. “How did you climb that wall?”

Peter smiled a little and walked back to the wall. “You see, some things changed after I bit that spider thing…” “Endrega.” “That! I think it interacted with that potion you gave me.” “Gotta note that down…”

“And now I can do this!”

Peter jumped and scaled the wall while sticking to it like… a spider. Geralt stared at him, unsure of how to react. He nearly got a heart attack when Peter jumped off the wall when he was near the top. He rushed to catch the fool, but from the boy’s wrist came something that stuck to the wall and Peter hung from it, upside down, right in front of Geralt’s face. “I can also shoot webs like a spider,” the boy proudly announced. Geralt sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Peter, did you attack people?” The boy came down and nodded shamefully.

“Yes, but I only attacked bandits and some whoresons that were harassing elves! Please, Geralt, you must believe me… sir.” Geralt could tell he was honest. It was not about believing him or not.

“You need to stop. You might get hurt. The witch hunters might even want to put you on the pyre.” “Let them try.”

Geralt raised a brow. Peter stood before him, clad in red like a junior Dandelion and arms crossed like a child. He was a child, a ridiculously stupid child. “What you’re doing is dangerous and you need to stop. You don’t know what these… powers are. You’re healthy now, but you might not be for long.”

“And what about you?” Geralt raised a brow at the boy again as he walked closer. “You go around helping people with your special powers, why can’t I?” “I am trained to do this.” “Then train me.”

Geralt let out a sigh of resignation. He wanted to send Peter to Kaer Morhen, but he didn’t trust him to get there alive or even find the way. “No.” Geralt tried to walk away, but quicker than he ever saw any normal human move, Peter was in front of him, blocking the way.

“What if I can take you on in a fight. Not win, of course, but I bet I can stand against you for a minute.” “You have gone from foolish to just arrogant.” “Give me a chance! I can do more than climb walls and swing from a web… please?”

“Fine, if you survive a minute, I’ll train you, but, if I floor you within that minute, you get rid of the stupid costume and never attack anyone again, bandit or otherwise.” “Deal.”

---

Peter was afraid he might have overestimated his abilities, but all he had to do was not be floored. Fortunately they agreed to no weapons. “Time goes in now,” Geralt announced and Peter expected him to pounce right away, but it seemed the witcher was waiting as well. Peter stayed alert, his new, sharp senses noticing how slow Geralt’s heartbeat was in contrast to his own, pounding his chest like it was trying to get out.

Then finally, Geralt lunged forwards and Peter barely dodged him. He rolled over the floor and got back up with great finesse. Yellow eyes narrowed and scanned his body like it was determining the price of a horse. Peter swallowed a lump in his throat, before dodging again. For now, that was all he was doing. He knew better than to try something funny or to hope for Geralt to get exhausted. With one close call, Peter found himself behind Geralt. He took the chance to give a quick, albeit not hard, kick against the witcher’s back, before dashing backwards. They had drawn a circle on the ground, he barely stayed in it.

It ended up being the only strike Peter would give. Geralt was simply not as fast as Peter and while Peter had taken a pretty good blow to the head, he was still standing after a minute. When the time was up, a sigh left the white-haired male. “Fine, but you will have to come with me to Skellige. I still need to find Ciri.”

Peter let out the air he held in his lungs and collapsed on the ground, tired from dodging like his life had depended on it. “Your daughter, right? I’ll… have to leave aunt May for a while, but I’ll be back, right?” Geralt gave him a look that said ‘yeah, sure, maybe’ and Peter found it rather ominous, but he also trusted the man enough to keep him alive. “I’ve never been to Skellige. What is it like?”

Geralt did not spare him a look as he put his equipment back on. “Cold. We leave tomorrow at noon.”

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #peter parker #geralt of rivia #crossover #tw3 #the witcher 3 wild hunt #game geralt #tom holland #mcu #marvel #dandelion #ciri #novigrad #skellige #endrega

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