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beigehearts · 4 years ago

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The Price of Self Respect

Read part one here! PART II CW: mutilation, gore, puke

1,729 words

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He’s observing you, every inch of your body. He stared as if you were an art piece, but you begin to wonder what was the true meaning behind it. His grin disappears as if he realizes he’s showing too much emotion. “I never thought the creator would look like this. Though it’s never good to assume.”

Somehow his comment struck a chord in you, and you aren’t someone to stay quiet. “I never thought the Spider’s Leader was a pretty boy, though it’s never good to assume.” You scoff and shake your head. His eyes widen though you aren’t bothering to look at the man anymore. “Wire me my money- I have better things to do than stay where my mission is finished.” You turn on your heel and click your way out of the room, and Chrollo didn’t try to stop you.

Laying in bed at 7 pm, watching an oldy cheesy and romantic movie, you bite into a sour gummy worm. You snuggle deeper into the large, soft bed, sinking into it’s warmth and achieving nirvana. Maybe you should go to a bar. You haven’t gone out for a drink in a while, you try not to be intoxicated for a week before a mission. It could slow you down. Seeing as you have no missions, and assuming you won’t for quite a while, you might as well indulge yourself.

After putting on minimum makeup, and a comfortable but cute outfit, you call a cab to pick you up at the front of the hotel. You used the hotel phone of course, not your own to call a cab. Before you head down to the lobby, you quickly draw a thread ring on your finger. If any nen is use within five feet of you, it will snap. This was you don’t have to constantly exhaust yourself by using gyo constantly.

You are shielded from the rain by the awning in front of the hotel, you hold your arms to your chest as a chill runs through you. It’s quite cold today, you’re surprised that it’s not snowing or sleeting. A yellow car pulls up to the curb and you rush into the back seat.

“Hi, I’m headed to the Lotus Bar.” You say in a sweet voice, as you do to anyone providing you a service.

The man in front of you seems cramped in this somewhat small car. He’s wearing a cabbie uniform besides the hat. His hair is in a high pony tail and his head is only a few centimeters away from the roof of the car. He nods towards you and mumbles, “Okay.”

You try not to think much of it but the hunter in you tells you to worry. You know there are weird people in York New city, and your thread ring hasn’t broken so you should be fine.

Five minutes into the car ride and you reach the highway, at this time the cabbie starts to make conversation. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You put on a fake smile even though he can’t see it, “Yes, I’m just visiting for a few days. On business.”

He nods while keeping his eyes on the road,��“What kind of business? Are you an auctioneer?”

“No no, I’m just here meeting some coworkers. It’s more of a business vacation than it is a business trip I should say.” Rain hits the windows as if trying to break through the glass and hit you. Car lights are blurred because of the heavy rain and you wonder if the cabbie would be able to see clearly enough out of the front window.

The cabbie pulls over to the side of the highway and sighs. “Is it raining too hard to see?” You ask innocently.

He turns in his seat towards you, he has a crooked nose, and deep deep eyes. His frown doesn’t falter when he says, “We’ve reached our destination.”

The ring on your finger snaps.

He lunges at you, grabbing you by the throat and punching you impossibly hard in the gut. Your body begs to cough violently but the hand around your throat prevents you to. You punch him in his crooked nose and he loosens his grip on you. You contort your leg to kick him in the neck, and he goes flying into the dashboard.

Blood splatters all over the car’s shitty leather seats when you cough so hard that you become worried your organs will be coming out next. You scramble for the car door and leap out head and hands first. Right as your hands feel the cold and wet road, he grabs your ankle. You glance back at him and his lips quirk upwards, “Nice try. “ The cabbie grabs your thigh and calf, with brute force there’s a loud crack. It takes a moment to register in your mind- but not long. You scream out in agony, and slide out of the car and onto the road once he lets go of you. You flip onto your back and see it, your leg is bent in a way that no leg should be bent. The sight of it causes bile to rise in your throat, and you turn over, everything that was in your stomach forcing itself out of your body. Once everything has left your stomach, you flop back down on your back and grit your teeth in pain.

The man steps out of the car, and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. Your foot digs into his rib cage, simply because it’s been forced into an unnatural position. You feel a buzzing coming from the man’s pocket and he grabs his phone and answers it, as if in no rush at all.

“Nobunaga. What’s taking you so long?”

You conjure your pencil and begin sketching in the air.

“I’m on my way.”

It’s starting to come together. A ferocious creature.

“Chrollo told you to be here ten minutes ago. Did you sit down and have a damn drink with the girl?!”

The incredibly large dog begins to form into a physical creature.

The man, Nobunaga, groans and growls into the phone, “I’ll be there soon.” He hands up and puts his phone back in his pocket.

Nobunaga stops and turns when he hears an eardrum shattering bark. His eyes widen but he’s not quick enough to stop the feral dog you’ve created. It sinks it’s fangs into the back of Nobunaga’s leg, and takes a chunk out of him. He screams in pain, collapsing, unable to stand at this point. Things begin to go black, the pain becoming too much for consciousness. You reach out for the dog and as it stretches to grab you gently, to run away with you, it whimpers loudly. It begins to dissipate into dust. Someone had attacked your dog with nen. Above you, standing in the ashes of your large pooch, is Chrollo.

“Come on, let’s go y/n.”

Your mind is fuzzy, sounds are nothing but unintelligible nonsense, and your sight has already gone. At least the pain would be gone for a while, if you woke up.

Who knows how much time has passed, certainly not you. It’s quiet, deafeningly quiet. You peel your eyes open. which requires a lot of effort. Your body is fighting you to stay down but you sit up with much pain. Your stomach feels as if a wrecking ball has slammed into you. You pull the shirt that is not yours up and see a black and blue bruise blooming on your stomach with sprouts of yellow. Speaking of, who’s clothes are these? You look down at your legs, wearing sweatpants much to big for your frame. You feel down to your knee and wince, it seems to be back in place, and wrapped carefully with some kind of nen.

A sigh escapes your lips and you take in your surroundings. It’s dark but your eyes have adjusted to it already. You lay on a makeshift bed, with a light sheet covering your bare feet. The floor is concrete but so are the walls. The room is maybe, 10ft by 7ft wide. The only light in this small, claustrophobic room comes from the moonlight through a hole in the ceiling.

Your eyes wander towards the entrance of the room, a man sits on a wooden chair that looks incredibly uncomfortable. His eyes don’t even look up from his book when he says, “How are you feeling y/n?”

“Well, my leg is broken and I’ve been kidnapped. So not bad.”

He closes his book and chuckles, then gently places his book on the floor next to him. “You put up quite a fight. It was wonderful to see you create something so beautifully.” Chrollo sits on the floor at the end of your makeshift floor bed. “It truly was delightful.”

You look down at your hands in your lap, “How is Nobunaga?”

“He’s okay, he’s been through worse.”

“Whose clothes are these?” Suddenly you have many questions that you want answered.

“They’re mine.” He states. Though the statement surprises you, you could never imagine Chrollo wearing sweatpants and a white t shirt.

“So what am I here for. Information? You gonna torture me? Go ahead, you guys already broke my leg.” You say as if he’s the one who broke your leg.

Chrollo stares at you in wonderment. “You have quite a lot of questions. I can’t blame you.” He looks up to the single light source and nods to himself. “I’ve been observing you for quite a while.

Once the words reach your ears, a red tint covers your cheeks. How could you not have known he was watching you? How long has he been watching you? How much does he even know about you?!

“I’m a specialist as well. I’ll let you know what my nen ability is.” For some reason this makes your heart pound, do you want to know what his ability is?

“I take other people’s abilities, so they can no longer use it, and I can use as many as I take. That’s why I tracked you down. Your ability is quite unique.” He looks at you with a genuine smile, “But then I began to like you too much to just take your ability. So instead I took you.”

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #hxh #hunterxhunter #yandere #phantom troupe #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #y/n #self insert

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immacaria · 4 years ago

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Box of Memories

Happy belated birthday, A-Sang! Wish you all the joy and love life has reserved for you!

Almost three weeks after the actual birthday I've finally finished this thanks to my dear school (grinds teeth angrily). Anyway, this is a bit short, like almost 4k or something, and I took this insanely amount of time because of school, but it's alright I finished it now. So I hope you guys enjoy this and I can make your day a little brighter with it. As always, stay safe and healthy!

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It was Nie Huaisang’s birthday and Jiang Cheng was more anxious than when he had to survive Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao’s shove talk one after the other. For the heavens and all above, they had been dating for four years now and met each since they were five and six! There was no reason for him to be so nervous! They passed so many birthdays, with so many presents exchanged and Jiang Cheng was still nervous. And just because he made the present with his own hands and it turned out horrible!

Like not the ‘you can’t even look at’ type of horrible, but the ‘didn’t meet my expectations exactly what immediately makes it horrible’ type of horrible. He started doing it exactly two days later after Nie Huaisang said he wanted it and guaranteed that nobody would buy it for him, exactly nine months and eight days before his birthday. He had seen it on Pinterest, in a video where a girl was making a “box of memories” (as Jiang Cheng came to call it) for her younger sister.

She had chosen their favourite memory and made something like a box of shadows to show it. There was a light bulb in the middle with various metal plates cut in the shape of the memories. When turned on, the metal plates started to revolve around the light bulb and create images on the wall, recreating the memory with the shadows. Nie Huaisang loved it and showed it to every person who he knew could give one for him or make one. Thankfully, none of them could give it right away which gave Jiang Cheng enough time to plan how he would do it.

It all began with him asking what memory he would use of all his favorites and asked what happened there, memorizing them to the heart and writing everything down the second he saw himself alone. His drawing skills weren’t as good as Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen’s, but as long as they remained a sketch, they would do. After sketching it all, he went to Nie Mingjue and asked him to teach him how to cut the metal plates and arrange them properly in the other metal pieces. Apparently, there was a machine that did that for them, the only thing they needed to do was insert the images and the sizes of the plates and let it do what it needed to do. Which led Jiang Cheng to ask for some draw lessons from Lan Xichen and digital design from Lan Wangji, which cost several years of his life but he guessed he was bound to do everything needed for his boyfriend.

He planned everything on the little planner he bought (if it was specifically brought for that no one needed to know) and every day he ticked something off. Besides the box of memories, he wrote a letter everyday to him and hid it in the last drawer of his wardrobe under piles and piles of clothes. From Open it now to Open it when you are sixty years old and Open it when you are in doubt about us, everyday a letter for 281 days and too much ink, paper and ideas, too much feelings engraved in those. But should he regret it, knowing that it would make Nie Huaisang happy? The boy loved this kind of old, romantic things like handwritten letters, so why shouldn’t he give it to him too? Handwritten letters with little doodles on the edges of the paper and little trinkets.

At the beginning of May, Jiang Cheng started putting it all together, doing the last reviews and adjustments. Once the plates were done, he called Wei Wuxian to help with the electric part of the thing, the shameless idiot being graduated in electrical engineering somehow. He had to endure his little ramble about how he had become so romantic and how considerate of somebody else’s feelings, how he was going miles out of what everyone said was normal. It would be a lie if Jiang Cheng ever said that he wasn’t slightly proud and happy upon hearing that.

They made slow progress but the present was ready six days before the due date, which gave Jiang Cheng enough anxiety and stress for the rest of his life (good thing he took on his mother’s side of genetics and wasn’t getting any white hairs until a very, very old age). Would Nie Huaisang find out the present before his birthday? Would he hate it or love it? Would he simply be neutral about all the gifts? Would he fake liking it? What could possibly happen once he gives it to him? Would it destroy their relationship?

On March 20, Jiang Cheng was about to have a stroke or an aneurysm or both of them probably. Just some more hours and they would see if Nie Huaisang liked the present or not. Since it had been ready, the poor present had been tested countless times to see if it worked properly (it did, thank gods), changed locations incessantly while he wrote every single letter by hand before making a wooden box and putting all he had made in there. The memory box, the 281 letters and some fans he bought in the Yunmeng market that reminded him of Nie Huaisang.

Early on, he had promised Nie Huaisang that he would help him with the birthday’s decorations and preparations for everything . After that, he made a quick run to his house to take a bath and try to calm himself because he couldn’t throw up in the party, he even got time to test it again, watching as Nie Huaisang’s favourite memory of all time played on his bedroom wall. It was practically memorized by now, the way the images followed one by one in quick succession, recreating a story that he could tell even if he had amnesia.

Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue and their parents were the main characters in the memory. Nie Huaisang was maybe four or five years old while Nie Mingjue was something like sixteen or seventeen years old and they were travelling to the small cabin they passed the holidays. He always said that that weekend was the best one of his life, one where his entire family was together and happy, complete. This memory in particular was one where Nie Huaisang was being thrown in the air by his father to land in the arms of one of his mothers while Nie Mingjue and their second mother were suffering a heart attack. Even though there was some melancholy in his eyes, he always spoke fondly and laughed about the face his brother made when he landed on their mother’s arms and passed the rest of the weekend guaranteeing that their father wouldn’t do another one of those again.

Jiang Cheng would die as a happy man if he could make him as happy as he was on that day, even if for one day. Well, not die, he was still too young to die, but he would feel fulfilled and satisfied. So, he tried to focus on that when he stepped inside the party, clutching to the wooden box and breathing deep. He’s going to like it, he’s not going to hate me, he’s going to smile because of the present, everything is going to be fine, we are not breaking up. Okay, maybe he was a little bit paranoid and afraid of what was going to happen, but he was fine, he was going to be fine. He just needed to loosen up and enjoy the party until it was time to open the presents.

“A-Cheng!” Nie Huaisang said, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his neck. Jiang Cheng only had time to pull the box to the side to prevent him from getting hurt before putting an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “Tell your brother to stop being mean to me on my birthday.”

“If Lan Wangji can’t control him, what makes you think I can?” He said, still holding him. “Happy birthday, Huaisang, many years of life and happiness for you.” He kissed his temple again before stepping away and showing him the present. “For you.”

“Oh, A-Cheng! You didn’t need to! You are already present enough.” He gasped, taking the box of his hands while Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him. He always said that but he remembered very well what he did to Jin Zixuan when the man showed up without his present. He didn’t want to be in the same ending of his fury, thank you very much.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He rolled his eyes again, bending a little to let Nie Huaisang kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know what you gave me, but I already love it.” He smiled brightly at him, walking to the kitchen and carefully choosing a place to put it. The kitchen was loaded with presents, some big, others small, colorful wraps or black and white with an interesting pattern on it, some didn’t even had proper wraps around it. There were a lot of presents and for a moment Jiang Cheng’s brain simply went blank and decided that, for sure, there was one that topped his present. Which was nonsense, but still served to increase his stress and anxiety (once again he thanked his genetics for not getting white hairs early). “C’mon, let’s go to the living room. Da-ge is telling some story from when we were children.”

“Is he telling the green incident? Because if he is, I would rather stay in the kitchen.” And check if the other presents are better than mine so I can throw them out the window.

“Of course not! Da-ge doesn’t remember that story anymore.” He waved him off, entering the room in the exact moment Nie Mingjue said:

“Then a bucket of green paint fell into his head.” His thunderous laugh filled the room as he started to tell the amazing story of how Nie Huaisang managed to dye himself green after he dumped a whole bucket of paint on his head when he was seven years old.

“Da-ge!” He screamed, going red instantly. “What are you doing?!” He yelped, high-pitched, as he threw a cushion at him. “Shut up!”

“What? I was just talking about the green dye you did on your skin.” He laughed again, dodging the cushion and showing his tongue to him. It was strange to see a man of his size acting like that, but sincerely Jiang Cheng sometimes forgot that he too was human and (kind of) young. “Hey, Wanyin, do you want to sit here?”

“Hey, hey, hey. No stealing boyfriends on my birthday or ever, Da-ge. You already have two.” He wrapped himself around his arm, glaring at his brother. “Stop being so selfish, Da-ge.”

“Selfish? Take that back, brat, before I break your legs.” He narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him.

“It’s his birthday and you don’t get to threaten the birthday boy, Jue-ge.” Lan Xichen sighed, pulling his hand down. He was beside Nie Mingjue and sitting next to Lan Wangji, talking quietly between the two of them before the threats started rolling out.

“Stop covering him, Lan Xichen.” He turned to him as Nie Huaisang pulled him to the bench next to the window and between two high bookshelves full of sketchbooks, some completed, others completely blank.

“So, what’s your present?” He suddenly asked, playing with Jiang Cheng’s fingers.

“What? It’s a fucking surprise, A-Sang, I can’t tell you.” He spurred, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

“But, A-Cheng, yours were the heaviest of it all. What is it?” He shook his arm, doing the puppy eyes. The fucking puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Stop, A-Sang.” He growled, avoiding looking at him. “You know I can’t take the puppy eyes.”

“A-Cheng~.” He laid ahead, searching for his eyes. And, heavens, who taught that boy that? Nie Mingjue for sure was not. Maybe Meng Yao. Yeah, definitely Meng Yao. Jiang Cheng was going to kill Meng Yao for teaching Nie Huaisang that. “Please~. I want to know.”

“Ok, ok, ok. Just one part, okay?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away, feeling the back of his neck heating up.

“From how many parts?” His eyes were shining and attentive which meant that he was probably making a million combinations on his head, comparing and guessing what he could possibly ever get him.

“I’m not going to tell you.” He scowled, taking a deep breath. “One part of your presents is fans, okay? I got you some fans.”

“Really?!” His eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his bangs. “I love fans.”

“I know, A-Sang.” He breathed out, kissing his fingers.

“But I love you more.” He smiled, leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I love you so much more than the fans.” He murmured against them, hands on his neck.

“Idiot.” He chuckled, kissing him back while smiling. He always seemed to smile easily when he was near him, breath was easier too. Sincerely, Nie Huaisang just made things easier just by being near him, just his presence and, maybe, it was the reason why he wanted to do everything in his power to make him happy as he could be. “I love you too.”

“More than dogs and A-Ling?” He sat between his legs, back against his chest.

“Don’t push your luck.” He may love A-Sang, but dogs and his nephew were more important, they always brought instant happiness with them. Next to him, Nie Huaisang was chuckling quietly, pulling both of Jiang Cheng’s arms around his waist and putting his hands above before starting to talk with Meng Yao about some new exposition of them and all the technicalities involving it.

Jiang Cheng let himself fall back into the security of all the conversations around him that didn’t involve him and the warmth of Nie Huaisang on his arms and against his chest. Slowly his panic disappeared from his mind as the time passed and the presents weren’t mentioned not even once. Almost everyone was there, the only ones missing being Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and their newborn Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng’s little sweetheart, who were overseas to look over the inauguration of Jiang Yanli’s new restaurant in Las Vegas (To say that Jiang Cheng was crazely proud of her would be an understatement).

Either way, no amount of time would be enough to prepare him for when Wei Wuxian and MianMian appeared in the kitchen bringing the cake and the tray of sweets. The candle was already lit up and displaying the number 23, as if nobody knew how old Nie Huaisang was. He dislocated his hands enough to clap but not remove his arm from around his waist. Nie Huaisang laughed, clapping according to the music, but sunken further on his chest, refusing to move another millimeter as his ears went adorably red.

“Happy birthday, Nie Huaisang!” Everyone screamed when the song ended, blowing confetti over them. The screams and whistles became a cacophony as Nie Huaisang blew out the candle and laughed out loud, putting both of his hands over his mouth.

“Happy birthday, Nie-xiong!” MianMian hugged him after Wen Qing, her girlfriend, took the cake from her. “Many, many years of happiness and fulfillment to you, my dear. Hope you enjoy mine and A-Qing’s present.” She winked, mischievously.

“What have you given me, MianMian?” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide.

“Nothing you can open in front of Da-ge.” She laughed, absolutely delighted at his terrified face and Jiang Cheng’s groan. He had noticed that everyone had a tendency of calling Nie Mingjue ‘Da-ge’.

“No! You stole my idea!” Wei Wuxian complained, giving him a half-hug and equilibrating the tray of sweets on the other arm. “Many years of love and laughter, Nie-xiong, may time and life treat you well.” He fully hugged him once MianMian came back to take the tray away from him, calming Jiang Cheng’s anxiety.

“I want to see what those two gave you. No excuses.” Nie Mingjue said, serious, before crushing him in a tight hug. “Happy anniversary, didi. I’m very proud of you and what you have become. Ma, Baba and Mother would be so, so proud of you and happy for all the friends and people you have around you.” He may or may not have sniffed on that part, hiding his face on his brother’s neck.

“Thank you, Da-ge. They would be very proud of you too.” Nie Huaisang whispered back and Jiang Cheng saw him blink repeatedly to avoid the tears from falling out.

“He grew up so fast.” He mourned, resting his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder while Meng Yao hugged and wished him a happy birthday and life. Once he was done and it was Lan Xichen’s turn, Nie Mingjue wrapped himself over him, sniffing loudly. After that, the other guests did a quick succession of ‘Happy Birthday’ and wishes for a good and long life. Not for a moment Nie Huaisang stepped away from Jiang Cheng, always at arm’s reach of his hands. Not that he had tried to pull him back when he stepped away, Jiang Cheng would never do that.

“So, A-Sang, now that all the wishes have been given and Wangji-ge and I have cut the cake. For whom is the first piece?” MianMian asked, holding a plate with a piece of cake to him.

“A-Cheng!” He quickly answered, turning to him. “For being the best boyfriend a man could ask. And not being too scared of Da-ge.”

“I’m not that scared of Mingjue-ge, but thank you, I guess.” Jiang Cheng said, taking the plate from his hands and completely refusing to look over where Nie Mingjue was.

“Woah, he didn’t even hesitate.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. “I could swear he was going to give it to Da-ge.” That was it, Jiang Cheng was now certain that everyone, except for maybe Wen Qing, saw Nie Mingjue as an older brother. But, well, were they wrong?

“Da-ge has received many first pieces in his life. It’s A-Cheng’s time.” Nie Huaisang scrunched his nose at him before jogging to the kitchen. “C’mon people! Eat, eat! I want to open my presents!”

Jiang Cheng chuckled, starting to eat the cake as the others were doing a line to receive their own piece and, fucking hell, he understood why they wanted one. The cake was divine! It was fluffy and tasty, exploding in the mouth the moment you bite it and it wasn’t too sweet. It was possibly the best cake he ever had the pleasure to eat and by the look of the other’s face, they thought that too.

“Nie-xiong, who made the cake? I want their number.” Wei Wuxian said, pleasure written all over his face. “It’s so good!”

“Oh, it was Wangji and Da-ge.” Nie Huaisang said, pointing at them. Everyone turned their heads to them, looking in awe.

“Lan Zhan?! But he never did one of me.” Wei Wuxian complained, pouting.

“Mingjue-ge made the dough and I did the frosting and the decorations.” Lan Wangji passed a piece of cake to Wen Ning.

“And the sweets. He did the sweets too.” Nie Mingjue said, throwing one of the sweets in his mouth.

“Which are fucking marvellous!” MianMian exclaimed, doing a thumbs up for him.

“No speaking while eating.” He and Lan Xichen said in unison, without looking at her. After that everyone focused on eating the cake and the sweets. Nie Huaisang came back to sit beside Jiang Cheng, taking the sweets he didn’t like to his own plate. Most of them got a second piece and more sweets because those things were really fucking good.

“Now, the presents!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, excited and sending Jiang Cheng’s heartbeat to space. “I’m excited.” He was jumping on his seat.

“Whose present will you open first?” Lan Xichen said, getting up and going to the kitchen.

“A-Cheng’s.” He smiled as he started to bring the presents from the kitchen. Jiang Cheng prayed that his panic weren’t showing on his face nor his anxiety because his mind was running a mile per hour.

He was going to open the present and see how horrible it was that box of memories and they would break up. Maybe not now because of the fans, but once he started reading the letters and seeing how messed up he was, it would be an endgame. No one, being in their right mind, would stay after reading those letters. Before he could be totally swallowed by his traitorous mind, he heard a scream and someone throwing themselves at him, arms around his neck.

“Thank you!” Nie Huaisang screamed in his ear, pulling him against himself. “Thank you so much!” He sounded happy, but he was crying too.

“What the fuck, Huaisang? Are you crying?” He said, trying to look at his face where it was hidden on his neck. “Why are you-...” He started, before seeing the box sitting on his lap. “Oh.”

“A-Cheng.” He whined, looking up. “Look what you did to me. I’m crying like a baby.” The tears were falling two by two, big fat tears that he did not like to see on his face. “When did you buy it?”

“I made it.” He blurted out, focused on wiping the tears.

“What?” He blinked, sniffing loudly.

“I made it. I made most of the things in the box, including the box. The only things I bought were the fans, I still don’t know how to make fans like you.” He kept wiping the tears, putting his sleeve over his nose for him to blow. “You know I’m not good with handcrafted gifts but since it’s your birthday I tried.”

“I love you so much.” Nie Huaisang hugged him again while Wei Wuxian took the box from his legs and turned it on.

“What memory did you use?” He asked and, oh yeah, Jiang Cheng never told any of them what memory he was planning to use. He instructed MianMian to turn the light off, rearranging it on the small coffee table in the center.

“One from when me and Da-ge were younger.” Nie Huaisang answered as Nie Mingjue’s eyes filled with tears at recognition. “Best present ever.” He whispered, leaning on him with a small smile on his lips and watching as the memory came to life again. Jiang Cheng smiled down at him, passing an arm over his shoulders and watching as he told the story about how Nie Mingjue, who had many comments on how it was being told, almost had a heart attack when he was seventeen.

It was, indeed, the best present ever.

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

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A Simple Choice

Written by: @justajjfan

Beta’d by: @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 83: Katniss is whipped instead of Gale in Catching Fire, Peeta’s the one who’s there to take care of her after. [submitted by anonymous].

Prompt 116: Peeta braids Katniss’ hair to soothe her. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: Mature

Warning: Mention of whipping. Use of coarse language.

A/N: We’re half-way…ish there. Thanks again @everlarkficexchange ; @javistg and @xerxia31 for continuing to post my really late submission. @sunsetsrmydreams 💚

~~~

Chapter 4

Back in the kitchen I make quick work of preparing breakfast by slicing two thick pieces of bread and while I wait for them to toast lightly, I scoop a few teaspoons of home-made strawberry jam into a small dish before placing everything on the serving tray. Once the kettle has boiled, I pour the hot water into the tea pot and inhale the fragrant steam from the herbal tea leaves.

These are the things I know Katniss likes so I hope it will entice her enough to eat.

I had planned on running over to Katniss’ house earlier to grab a nightgown or something loose fitting for her to change into while her wounds healed but with my unexpected visitor, there isn’t time so it will have to wait until after she’s had something to eat.

Balancing the tray carefully, I approach my bedroom door to find it slightly open. I was positive I closed it before I came downstairs this morning so I wouldn’t wake Katniss from what looked like a peaceful sleep. But as I nudge the door gently open all the way with my foot, I am surprised to see Katniss standing by the window wrapped loosely in the thin bedsheet I draped over her yesterday, starring out towards the pathway and beyond the gate.

I take careful steps so I don’t startle her but the rattle from the empty teacup on top of its saucer ruins any attempt at me being quiet. Needless to say, Katniss doesn’t appear to have noticed me entering the room and seems caught in a trance clutching a separate piece of cloth close to her chest.

I know I shouldn’t be thinking this way about her but even draped in something as plain as a bedsheet and seeing the contours of her body as she stands in the morning light, Katniss is still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on and the urge to sketch her image is overwhelming. But any urges I feel right now are quickly supressed with a more pressing need to check on her wounds.

With that thought in mind, my eyes dart straight to the part of Katniss’ back not covered by the sheet and what I see…or rather don’t see, causes me to loosen my grip on the tray. Luckily, I make a quick recovery of my senses and save her freshly made breakfast from ending up in a messy heap on the carpeted floor.

“Oh my God Katniss,” I announce, my voice choked with elation. “Your wounds…they’re so much better,” I manage to say as I gawk at her bare back in amazement.

The criss-cross of jagged and bloodied welts of flesh that were spread across her back and shoulders yesterday have been replaced by faint pink lines. If I hadn’t cleaned and dressed her wounds myself, I wouldn’t have known they were there.

She nods, bringing the cloth to her face and rubbing it lightly against her cheek, clearly not startled and being completely aware of my presence the whole time, “because you took good care of me,” she replies in a soft tone.

“I think it had a lot to do with Madge Undersee’s miracle salve…not me.”

Katniss shakes her head, “it was you…even after everything. You saved me and cleaned my wounds and—” her words fade as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

She’s always been so strong but seeing her like this surprises me and it hurts in ways I cannot even describe, “it’s what we do…you and me. Protect each other…no matter what,” I concede.

“She was right.”

“Who was?” I ask but she shakes her head again before burying her face in the cloth. Whether she meant her mother or maybe her sister I don’t want to press the issue. Katniss must still be a little groggy from the pain medication and having an empty stomach isn’t helping.

Still holding onto that mysterious cloth as if her life depended on it, Katniss steps away from the window and walks slowly towards the bed and sits, “when I woke I couldn’t find you and I called out but you didn’t answer,” she tells me, her eyes slowly cast to the armchair beside the bed.

“Did you sleep there all night?” she questions, raising her head to look at me. I nod in silent reply. “It must have been uncomfortable for you.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” I say as I edge closer, recalling our nights in the cave and I wonder if Katniss remembers too.

Our eyes lock onto each other and I have to clench my fists tighter around the handles of the breakfast tray to fight the strong desire to wrap my arms around her and kiss her deeply on the lips. The mere thought is threatening to engulf me like a burning ring of fire.

I’m setting myself for heartbreak all over again and I need to shake these feelings away. Katniss will leave as soon as she has her strength back and when that happens, I’ll be resigned to living the rest of my lonely and pathetic life with only her memory to keep me company.

Clearing my throat, I move to the bedside table and rest the tray on top, “I’m used to waking early and I didn’t want to disturb you…and what looked like a happy dream, so I went downstairs to make a start on preparing breakfast and some broth for lunch,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you call out for me. I tend to get a little distracted when I’m kneading bread and I wanted to make sure you had a fresh loaf for toast and of course, strawberry jam. It’s still your favourite, right?”

She smiles shyly and nods, “you remembered.”

“I’d never forget something as important as that.”

Our eyes meet again and for a few seconds, neither of us utter a word. I clear my throat to break the silence and nervously reach for the breakfast tray, placing it carefully between us and pour the tea as Katniss watches on, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears.

I guess my hair braiding skills leave a lot to be desired.

“Mmmm…peppermint tea,” Katniss says before taking a careful sip from the steaming cup. “Won’t your mother be angry with you for not turning up for work this morning?” she adds a moment later.

“I don’t care if she is,” I say, breaking a piece of toast and holding it out for her to take.

Katniss straightens up and looks at me before her eyes fall on the piece of toast then she draws in a deep breath before taking a bite straight from my hands. When her lips brush against my fingers, my breath hitches at the sensation and I struggle to stay focused.

“I-I’m part owner of the bakery now and I decide my own hours…n-not my mother,” I say as Katniss chews slowly, her grey eyes never leaving mine.

“Looking after you will always be my first priority,” I blurt out without thinking. I should probably apologies for my forwardness but I’m so transfixed on her mouth as she chews and swallows the first piece of toast, I’d only end up saying something even more stupid.

Katniss places the teacup back on the tray and breaks a piece of toast. Good, I think to myself, she’s hungry. But instead of taking a bite herself, she brings it to my lips in offering and I open my mouth wide and gently take it from her delicate fingers.

“Yes,” she whispers as I roll the toasted bread around in my mouth. Caught under a magical spell I want to live in forever, I find myself repeating it but as soon as the word leaves my lips, the smile on my face drops when Katniss brings the cloth close to her chest.

It’s the shirt I wore yesterday.

I get up from the bed a little too quickly and spill some tea on the tray but I don’t care. I’m annoyed and angry with myself for leaving the shirt on the bathroom floor. I meant to take it with me after I showered to throw it in the trash but my mind was happily tossing on what kind of bread I would bake for Katniss, it completely slipped my mind.

Katniss doesn’t say anything as I walk over to the dresser and pull out a clean white shirt from the top drawer which I think will do until we can get something of hers.

“I always forget to pick up after myself,” I laugh, trying to make light of the situation. “Here…let me take that from you and give you this to put on instead of that bedsheet,” I say, holding out my hand with the clean shirt. “We can go to your house later to grab some of your clothes, if you’re up to it,” I suggest.

Katniss nods and takes it with one hand but still clings to the shirt I carelessly left on the floor with the other. “The bread…it smelt so familiar and I was about to come downstairs to find you but I needed to use the bathroom first and…” she says looking down at the crumbled and soiled shirt still clutched tightly in her hand. “I never meant for any of this to happen…not to you.”

“And I wished with all my heart none of this happened to you, but here we both are.”

“How many?” Katniss asks, lifting her head to look at me.

I know what she’s asking and consider lying by giving her some lame explanation but how can I when she’s been holding onto the truth so tightly in her hands all this time, “just the one but I hardly think it matters…not compared to yours.”

“It matters to me!” Katniss says in a raised voice, her chin quivering. “The salve…you used some on yourself and it’s healed just like mine, right?” There’s a desperate look on her face as she waits for my confirmation.

“Peeta?”

I feel a huge lump in my throat and swallow hard, “you needed every bit of that salve and I wasn’t about to waste a drop of it on me. Besides, I hardly feel a thing now,” I admit truthfully.

“Take off your shirt!” Katniss demands as she turns to the bedside table and reaches frantically for the tin box containing what I know sits an empty jar inside. “There’s got to be a little left for you. Your shirt Peeta…please,” she pleads, trying to scrape any remnant of salve that I know isn’t there on her finger.

I take a hold of her dainty wrist and gently remove the jar from her fingers and place it back on the bedside table, “it’s okay Katniss…it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“But you need some too. We look after each other…you said so yourself.”

Katniss places her trembling hands on my chest and guides them down my shirt and I don’t resist. Neither do I when she starts to undo each button one by one then gently pushes the fabric over my shoulders and down my arms. I stay silent the whole time and watch her face intently as she kneels on the bed and begins to trace her fingers ever-so softly over the single welt splayed mostly across my shoulder. My heart skips a beat and I let out a hiss but it’s not from any discomfort I’m feeling.

“Why is it every time I try to protect you, all I seem to do is cause you nothing but pain,” she sniffs, stopping her tender touch. “It was stupid of you to try and stop Thread. You should have stayed away.”

“Both us know I wasn’t about to stand back and watch Thread try to kill you. What were you thinking sneaking back to Twelve after you escaped with Gale and your family? That was pretty stupid too,” I counter, pulling my shirt back over my shoulders. “Why did you do that…come back I mean?”

“I-I already told you,” she answers as she helps me rebutton my shirt.

“You weren’t making much sense,” I admit. “You mentioned something about coming back for me but I’m sure that can’t be true. It was just the medicine talking,” I say as my mind replayed her slurred and sleepy words from yesterday.

“It is true Peeta. I came back for you.”

Her words are clear and precise and this time there’s no mistaking them.

…tbc

#Springtime Edition 2020 #submission #justajjfan #prompt 83 #prompt 116

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fearfulkittenwrites · 4 years ago

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Peaceful Afternoon - Family Bonding

Summary: What's the best way to calm down a bunch of crazed little bats? Apparently, a Lord of the Rings marathon.

Word Count: 2088

Notes: Hello! I'm slowly working my way to completing @3ambird‘s batfam bingo. This is just fluff and Bruce being a good dad, because we're all in need of some comfort. Enjoy!

Bruce stepped into his home with an already loosened tie and his blazer in hands, handing it to Alfred as soon as he saw the man.

“Rough day in the office, sir?” The butler asks as he gently flattens and hangs the clothing piece on the coat rack at the entrance lounge.

“Yes.” He sighed, rubbing his temples “Is there any chance you could bring me some of your tea? I feel a headache coming.”

“A warm cup of tea will be coming right up, master Wayne.”

“Thank you Alfred.” He smiles at the man “I’ll be in the TV lounge.”

“Sir, I must warn you that the kids are watching TV at the moment.” Alfred says.

“Oh?” Bruce raises an eyebrow “Are they being too loud?”

Alfred thinks for a moment.

“They are unusually quiet sir.” He answers “I’d be careful around them.”

“Well,” The man tilts his head to the side “I’ll check on them. If I’m no longer there, then I’ll be in my room.”

“Very well master Wayne.” Alfred smiles “It should only take a moment.”

Bruce walks slowly to the TV lounge, examining all of his home’s details on the way ; the complicated patterns on the wallpaper, the ripples of the carpets, the harshness of the fabrics the curtains were made of. Removing his tie completely, he rolls it around his fingers carefully and sticks it in his pockets, right before walking into the room he’d been looking for. He wasn’t sure on what he was expecting to see, but the scene in front of him had him pleasantly surprised.

Dick sat at the left corner of the couch, being the one closest to the door, with Duke sitting on the ground directly in front of him, eyes closed as Dick massaged his scalp and neck. Damian sat quietly next to his oldest brother, sketching a new art piece. Cass sat by the youngest’s side, sharing a blanket and cuddling up with Tim. Jason, who was also sitting on the floor, had Tim’s legs thrown over his shoulders as he squeezed his brother’s calves lightly, eyes glued on the TV.

“Hey B.” Dick smiled at him softly and Duke opened his eyes to look at the man “Rough day?”

“A little.” He breathes deeply as he rubs the back of his neck “What are you kids doing?”

“Nothin’ much.” Dick spoke again “There was a Lord of The Rings marathon on TV, so we just... left it there. I think today’s been rough on everybody.”

“I see.” Bruce nods “Do you mind if I join you?” A bunch of ‘no’s and ‘go ahead’s were slightly murmured as Bruce sat down on the armchair close to Tim’s end of the couch. The man took a quick glance at the TV “Have they already-”

“Shhh.” Tim interrupts “Don’t spoil it for Cass.”

“Ah, Alright. I’m sorry.” He sets his eyes on his (unfortunately) not-so-little girl, noticing how Cass seemed a little pale “Is everything alright Cass? You seem a bit... off.”

She nods.

“Cramps.” Dick explains from across the couch, rubbing his own belly, right above his pubic bone, just to drive the point home.

“Oh.” Bruce blushes a little.

“C’mon, old man,” Jason teases, tapping his leg “Don’t get all flustered over your daughter’s period.”

“I’m not flustered, I just... didn’t mean to be invasive.” He straightens his posture.

“I don’t mind talking about it.” Cass says, with a small smile “It’s okay.”

“That’s good.” The man replies, leaning back on the armchair.

It only takes Alfred a few seconds to come in with the tea after that. All of them quickly recognize the scent of his medicinal blend, having needed it many times before.

“Headache?” Dick asks “I can give you a massage if you want to.”

“Yeah, just take my spot.” Duke offers.

“Don’t worry boys.” Bruce smiles “The tea helps enough by itself.”

“Alright. But if you change your mind...” Duke says, allowing his sentence to trail off as he relaxes into Dick’s touch once again.

Bruce can’t help but gawk at the film’s beautiful scenery. The only members of the family that didn’t care much for the movie were Damian and Duke, for different reasons. The younger boy wasn’t particularly fond of fantastic stories with surreal elements, finding them silly more often than not. Although he could stand Lord of The Rings, he never really made it through the whole thing, getting bored, distracted, or falling asleep halfway through it.

Duke had much milder feelings. He had watched it once and that was enough. He didn’t see any reason to rewatch such a long movie. However, Duke didn’t seem to hate the idea of having it on while he received head scratches and massages from his cuddly brothers. Bruce smiled to himself at that, looking at how Dick and him got along well, at least in moments like this.

His eyes wandered back to Cass. She seemed endlessly entertained by the movie, sometimes whispering questions about the plot to one of her brothers. She was hugging one of Tim’s arms, head resting on his shoulder. He occasionally turned around to nuzzle his face into her hair. The teen had a habit of doing that to just about anyone he felt comfortable enough to touch when given the chance.

Jason seemed equally entertained. He loved a good story, whether it came in the form of a book, a movie or a TV show. Bruce noticed that whenever he was having a hard time he revisited his favorites, seeking the comfort of predictability, so it made sense that he was watching this today, after Dick’s statement. Jason counted Tim’s toes mindlessly, giving each of them a light squeeze before moving on to the next, starting it all over again once he reached both of his pinkies.

Bruce’s eyes set on his oldest son again. His little circus boy, Dick. Noticing how he had grown into a good man made his heart swell with joy, even if the emotion came with a prick of pain. His little boy, all grown up, caring for his younger siblings. Bruce couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found them. How lucky he was for having such an amazing family, how lucky he was that they had accepted him as their father.

Bruce was sure he was the happiest man alive. His heart was filled with love, to the point where it spilled out through his eyes, getting Dick’s attention.

“You big sap.” He mouthed at the man, no sound coming out through his lips. Bruce wiped a lonely tear away from his face with a smile, bringing his attention back to the movie. Dick knew him too well by now.

Bruce pressed his hands together under his chin, trying to hide the love that insisted on falling down his cheeks.

Eventually, the man dozed off in the middle of the first movie. He woke up when they were halfway through the second, looking at his watch and being taken aback by the time. He looked around, noticing that Damian was now asleep on Dick’s lap and Duke had brought out his computer, sitting at the armchair opposed to Bruce’s, brow furrowed in concentration. Jason was still on the floor, eyes fixed on the TV, but had moved on from Tim’s feet, using his limited knowledge on pressure points to help with Cass’ cramps, carefully pressing her feet while both of them paid attention to the movie. Tim had also fallen asleep, head hanging back on the couch and one arm around his sister’s shoulders.

Bruce checked the watch again, biting the inside of his lips. They should be getting ready for patrol by now and yet... he didn’t feel like it was fair to pull his kids away from this moment of tranquility. Dick’s eyes met his.

“It’s okay.” His son reassured him in a whisper.

“No.” Bruce says in a soft tone “You guys take the night off. I’ll call up Batwoman and Spoiler, we should be able to cover enough ground if Oracle is able to put in a little extra work.”

“B, it’s okay, I’ll go with you.” Dick replies, voice still quiet so as not to disturb the kid sleeping with his head on his lap “I’ll just tuck Dami in and we can go.”

“No, please.” Bruce stands up “This is clearly a rare moment. You need to enjoy it Dick. We’ll be fine.”

“B,” Dick insists “I need this just as much as you do.”

“Are you talking about patrol or...”

“Both.” Dick looks up at him “I’m tagging along, whether you want me there or not.”

“Alright then.” Bruce nods.

“Great.” Dick smiles “Now let’s take this sleepy boy to his bed.”

Slowly, he slips out from under Damian, carefully picking him up.

“Hmn don’t... I can walk...” Damian murmurs, face already buried in Dick’s neck.

“I’m sure you can.” Dick chuckled, adjusting the boy’s weight, one hand around his brother's waist and the other under his thighs, supporting him. The kid wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck lazily, with a weak and loose grip, almost falling asleep again in his oldest brother’s hands.

That wasn’t lost on Bruce’s eyes, who walked behind them, hands in his pockets. The man opens the door for his kids, waiting patiently next to the bed as Dick removes Damian’s shoes and pulls the blankets over his body. Both of them pressed a quick kiss to the boy’s forehead before walking out of the bedroom.

“Damian has really warmed up to you, hasn’t he?” Bruce starts.

“I guess so.” Dick shrugs, smiling at the ground “He’s a good kid, he’s just been through a lot. I try to remind him he doesn’t have to do things by himself all the time anymore. That he can lean on us.”

“That seems to be working.” Bruce smiles at his son, who retributed the look with some uncertainty “Hey, I mean it.”

“I know you do, it’s just...” Dick sighs “Sometimes all of this can feel... a little hopeless.”

“I can understand that.” He looks at his son. Bruce can understand that so well “But it’s in the little things, you know? Like right now,” He keeps going, lookin at his own shoes as they make a turn on the manor’s endless hallways “The way Damian allowed you to carry him, that was...” Bruce takes a deep breath, shaking his head slightly “He is being vulnerable around you.”

“You think so?” Dick asked, biting the inside of his lips.

“I know so. His arms,” Bruce says “When he threw them around your neck, he didn’t do so to hold on or to balance himself. Damian trusted you to hold him, and simply relaxed into your grip.”

Dick raised his eyebrows as he walked through the office’s door.

“You notice a lot of details.” Dick smiled.

“What can I say? I can’t turn the detective skills off.” He chuckles, joined by Dick’s snort “I really wish I could be more like you to him.” He stops walking.

“What are you talking about, B?” Dick frowns a little.

“I wish I knew how to be... caring.” Bruce sighs “I have no clue on how you ended up as good at it as you are today, considering… well, everything. But I’m glad you did. At least they have someone who knows how to... hold them. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do the same for you.”

Dick swallows.

“Hey, um, don’t beat yourself up over this kind of thing, okay?” He lightly touches his father’s arm “You are caring Bruce. You did hold me.” He pursed his lips. Both of them had teary eyes now.

“Not like I should have.”

“No one’s perfect. But you were there when I needed you, and that’s what counts.”

“Stop.” Bruce says, biting the insides of his mouth so hard he could taste blood “Stop... making excuses for me, Dick. I’m... I’m apologizing.” He takes in a deep breath “I know that all the damage I may have caused you won’t magically go away because I recognize that it’s there, but for what’s worth, I’ll try to do better. To be better for you.”

Suddenly, Dick surges forward, wrapping his arms around Bruce. As they hugged, Bruce could feel his son crying.

“Thank you.” Dick whispers “Thank you. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.” Bruce whispers back, turning his head to plant a kiss on his cheek “So much.”

Hey! If you got here, please consider reblogging. It would mean the world to me. Also, if you’d like to be tagged in future works, just shoot me a message.

Take care friend!

#batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #Tim Drake #Jason Todd

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alienog · 5 years ago

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Discord SS Gift!

So I’ve taken part in a secret santa event on Discord and heres the gift for my recipient! I’ve never written a self insert/in second person before so this was also a challenging and exciting exercise!

Doppio/Diavolo/Reader, Hanahaki..AU I suppose.

It’s a hard thing to remember now, what his face looked like. How his eyes shine or even how his voice sounds, bent over you as you struggle to breathe. The way you cling to life makes his expression fall from that of a deeply sickening smile to a slow disappointed boredom. You’re taking too long, and he makes sure you know it with a soft click of his tongue counting down the seconds. He’s not the same Doppio you remember, sweet as lemon pie and to your knowledge up until now, wouldn't hurt a fly. His brother however, he was the one you had been wary about. Your wrongness sat like rancid betrayal in the pit of your stomach.

At first you didn't believe it when you started coughing up flower petals. The idea of such a thing was ludicrous and only something you'd ever heard of in passing online. It wasn't real and so you didn't pay any mind to its concept beyond your macabre imagination.

There were Tulips that summer. Much to your delight, the garden park had cultivated yet another section in their greenhouse as they seemed to do every year and you were excited to be able to sit amongst the young flowers and sketch out a budding idea. It struck you as a little off the way that they suddenly grew new flowers seemingly overnight, but the wary unease of uncertainty was overshadowed by the whelm of joy that followed at having an excuse to go back there.

You were excited because the owner of the garden, the groundskeeper, the cultivator, was a very fine looking man who looked a lot younger than he actually was. When you first lay eyes on him, with his pink hair tied back in an intricate braid, a mass of bangs pushed to the side of his face, and an apron tied tightly around his waist, you allowed a passive thought on his looks but nothing more.

Not until you started to frequent the place to take in each new flower that started to appear. He approached you first, his smile warm and inviting. He asked, with his hands wringing a rag between them, what you were working on.

“Just an idea I saw online,” You answered politely, though you preferred to be alone and you tried to make that clear by saying nothing else.

“Could I see it?”

Despite your inclination to decline, you instead smiled and nodded. It’s only the nice thing to do, being in his space anyways. So you let the sketchbook in your hands lower enough so he can see what's been etched into your mind and scratched to the page with careful practice. The picture itself is a simple bust surrounded by elegant flowers, all of which inspired from the garden, their stems hooked through one another and bloomed into petals flushed a deep red.

He seemed to take well to it with a hint of a smile curving the edges of his mouth.

“It's beautiful,” He says, “In a dark kind of way.”

You offer a slight smile in return and he can feel the shift in mood. He gets shy just then and awkwardly nods again.

“Sorry..I didn't mean to disturb you.”

You reassured him, falsely, that it's no trouble because in truth his slight interruption wasn't that big of a grievance. He was polite enough to back off when you didn't seem interested in being disturbed. Maybe some other time when you’re not engulfed in your work, but for now he left you be and kept his distance in the days to come.

The second time he approaches you was on the first day you no longer have your sketchbook. Having finished with the piece you were working on you decided it would be nice to just enjoy the flowers instead of having your nose to the grindstone. He greeted you politely upon your arrival and when he noticed you were wandering by yourself that's when he struck up a conversation. Light, nothing that said you had to stay committed to it if you desired to leave or even be by yourself and you're thankful for that but you don't mind this time. In fact, he seemed quite nice.

He introduced himself as Doppio and you gave him your name in return. He smiled, wide this time, enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes and told you that name wasn’t what he expected, which caused an eyebrow of yours to raise.

“Yea?” You say.

“Oh, I just..well..”

Then the smile fell, and he got a bit nervous again, his hands wringing a towel in a faint attempt at “cleaning” them of imaginary dirt.

“I promise I’m not trying to be creepy, you just come in here a lot and I just wondered what your name was because I didn't know what to call you so..I just started making some up.”

You laughed at that, just enough to make a sound, and his whole demeanor visibly relaxed. He went on to explain that it was just passive curiosity. Tending to flowers all day every day got a little monotonous sometimes and he didn't have much to think about on the average day. Your silent company had kept his spirits up the past couple of weeks.

This first encounter, you don't talk about much. He’s very clearly nervous about something and on one hand you hope he doesn't see you as too intimidating but on the other you can already sense the feeling he’s exuding and you’re ready to just tell him you're not interested, simply because he looks rather young for you.

When you find out he’s actually thirty three you have a hard time processing that. Of course, you didn't think he’s lying. It was an oddly specific age for him to just be making it up, and what would he stand to gain by lying? Your affections you suppose. It’s no secret to you he’s trying to get closer to you. He’s not exactly subtle in his body language and you’ve done this song and dance long enough to tell when a guy is trying maybe a bit too hard. Before, you brushed it off to a young boy's crush, but now that you know how old he really is, you don't mind so much. You even allow yourself to be flattered and maybe entertain a passing interest.

In the weeks following you go to the garden just as much as you would if you had a project you were working on. Only now it was just to see the plants and as time passes you admitted you do like seeing the gardener around more often than not.

The first time you actually instigated the conversation he looked taken by surprise, his light freckled face lit up with a familiar smile and you fall into conversation more like old friends than awkward acquaintances. It’s not until later he admitted he was waiting for you to reciprocate. He doesn't say it, but you knew he couldn't quite loosen up without knowing for certain he wasn't bothering you.

You’re the one to ask for a first “date”. It was more just going out to drinks to talk more, but no matter what way you phrased it in your head it sounded like you were asking him on a date, and in the back of your mind you knew you didn't actually mind if he thinks of it like that. To see his eyes light up just from you asking is enough to make you smile.

The night went by quicker than you expected, better too. You talked for hours and you found he’s actually quite fascinated with horror movies and he complimented you on your art. At least, what you’ve shown him of it which up until now has been three things. Still, he says he loves the darker tones and the themes you explore. He knew his stuff much to your surprise.

After that night you had two more like it, though in varying locations. A walk by the pier and a night at an actual restaurant which ended with him walking you home because you may have ordered one too many drinks. You weren't paying attention, just having a good time with him and he left you at your door with a peck on the cheek, but you knew you wanted more than that. If he was ready, you were and in your more inebriated state you lean in for a quick kiss. You don't linger too much, don't make it strange, and he accepts it as pink dusts his cheeks. You thought things were going well.

He said a goodbye to you before heading off and you felt a flutter in your chest. With a warmth in your cheeks you unlocked the door and head inside for the night. It's not until later, when you’ve almost settled in that you don't remember taking your keys out of the door. You huffed at yourself and got up. Sure enough there they are dangling from the doorknob and out of the corner of your eye you noticed there was something on the ground by your door. A square of thick tanned brown leather. A wallet. You bent down to pick it up and flipped it open to confirm your suspicions. With slight apprehension of trying to find Doppio so late you reassured yourself that it's better you give it back than wait and not have enough time tomorrow. He was probably worried sick wondering where he must have left it.

The lights, installed amongst the flowers, were on inside the greenhouse when you made it to Doppio's doorstep. You were about to knock on the door when you noticed everything was off except for one glaring porch light under which you stand. For a moment you stood there, stuck between wondering whether he was asleep or out in the garden even this late at night. The lights were probably on at all times right? That made the most sense. He must have been sleeping.

But, even when you turned your back on the house and started to head down the steps you think how it wouldn't hurt just to check. You’d rather not force him to have to go through a whole day without his ids and credit cards.

The overgrown grass bent beneath your feet as you moved towards the greenhouse. You were wary about making too much noise despite the fact you had barely anything on you besides the clothes on your back, which made barely any noise at all. You can't help this creeping sensation that you weren't supposed to be there. It’ll just be a peek inside, just in case, you told yourself.

Through the glass, smudged from use, you didn't immediately see anything, just the flowers, their heads bowed towards the paths that ran through the building. With a sigh, you released the tension you held in your back and realized you had nothing to be worried about. There was nothing but the expected plants.

You were about to go again, you even turned away to walk back to the street, when you suddenly heard a crash, much like pottery shattering, and a string of heavy deep curses. It didn't sound like Doppio at all. Not that he wouldn't swear, you’re sure he probably did, like most people, even if you couldn't imagine it. Now you’re on alert. Was there someone trying to break into the greenhouse? You crouched down out of instinct and crept back to the glass. There was nothing going through your head that was rational. You know there's really nothing you can do on your own. You should really just call the police, but you didn't want to cause a scene. What if it’s not what you think?

You weren't really in the right mind to be making these kinds of decisions, but that didn't stop you from going up to the door of the greenhouse and testing to see if it's locked and you were somewhat surprised when it is. The door, as it’s pulled, squeaked from the rust setting into the hinges. You hear someone shuffle and freeze in place. You had no idea what you were doing but you were determined nonetheless and even though it's your fear that grounded you you’d like to think you would stand your ground no matter what.

“Hello?” The voice, definitely not Doppios, it’s much too deep, sounded unconcerned by your presence. For a moment you were unsure whether to answer or to back away and pretend you’re not there at all but before you can make a decision you’re already speaking.

“Hello?” You said back, “Hi, can I help you?”

You asked as if you own this place, but you’re running under the assumption this person is not meant to be here. From around the corner stepped, backwards, a man with long pink hair draped over his shoulders and piercing green eyes. In his hands he held a few pieces of the broken pot.

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?’

“I don't know, should you?”

It sounded like he laughed when he exhaled through his nose and he smiled, though the way he does has you unnerved.

“Okay, let's start over then. My name is Diavolo, I tend the grounds here, you?’

You hesitate but do give him your name in the end. Having said he tends the grounds, and you having no evidence to disbelieve him, you feel an embarrassed warmth spread across your cheeks. You swallow that feeling though and focus on why you really came here.

“You know Doppio then?”

“Very well.” He says.

"You live with him?"

"You could say that."

“Then can you give this to him?”

You pulled the wallet out of your pocket and took a step closer, letting the door close behind you with its shrill squeals but you didn't get any closer. You don't know what it is but you couldn't help but feel scrutinized under this man's gaze. He was looking at you with a familiarity, as though you should know who he is, but you know for a fact you’ve never met him before in your life. His grin made you unsure about getting any closer, though whether that's because of the vibes he's giving off or because you were both alone out in a garden this late at night, and so you held out the wallet to at least keep him at arm's length.

“I’ll make sure he gets it, don't worry.” He said and you knew, in the back of your mind, that he must have meant it sincerely, but you couldn't help but feel put off by his dangerously low tone.

It’s later, when you asked Doppio about it, you learn that they’re brothers, but you rarely, if ever to your knowledge, saw them together.

Three full weeks after the run-in with Diavolo you started to get more serious about how you feel for Doppio. He was sweet and he respected your boundaries when you set them. Nothing was official at the moment, but you wondered if maybe it could be? It was no more than a passing thought one morning while you’re out walking and the next day you start to feel under the weather. You had a slight shortness of breath and there was an ache in your chest, dull enough to continue life as normal but always just on the back of your mind. At first, you thought it was just congestion. Perhaps you had a cold coming on soon. If that was the case then you hoped it hurried itself up and got itself over with sooner rather than later. To your displeasure, it didn't. In fact, the ache worsened along with the shortness of breath to the point you really started to wonder what's going on. You tried to google it, to no avail.

On the day you thought to go to the doctor to get looked at, you woke up with a much duller pain, but it was still just as hard to breathe. You moved into your bathroom, the tile cold against your bare feet, and looked in the mirror. Nothing seemed outwardly wrong with you, but that doesn't mean anything.

You opened the cupboard to take the tiny plastic cup off the Nyquil and got some water from the sink. Anything to help ease the sudden swell in your throat. You downed that little cup and though it wasn't not easy, you swallow. The effect wasn't instant, but you were surprised when the swelling eased up. Now it was no more than a tickle in the back of your throat and you coughed to try and see if you could dislodge the rest of this bizarre blockage. Through bouts of coughing, hacking, you felt something shift in the back of your throat and you spat into the sink. It felt odd to say the least. Almost solid as it came out of your mouth and you looked down into the sink.

Drops of blood caught your attention first, then as you looked closer you noticed these small purple petals, crumpled up and scattered in the sink. You picked one up between your thumb and forefinger. It’s supple texture is slicked with blood but it is undeniably a flower petal.

Your heart was in your throat suddenly. You werent sure what to make of this. The hanahaki disease, that's what it was called right? That was supposed to be fake. Just an interesting idea to think about. Not something real? The petals in the sink beg to differ. You’re frozen, one hand still clenched on the side of the sink, screaming internally to do something about this. But what? What do you do to treat a fictional ailment? Who do you call? When you looked online again, in a little less of a frantic panic, you come up with nothing. All accounts of the disease had been disproven and the general speculation is that it was entirely the figment of one's imagination.

Well, if it is, you begged your imagination to stop, because it was making it hard to breathe and you were worried what might happen if it’s allowed to continue. If it was affecting your real life it had to be real. The only “cure” they say is for the person you were pining after to love you back and you internally scoffed at that. That didn't apply here. There wasn't anyone you’re pining after, no. So you’ve been on a few dates with Doppio, and you liked him a lot, but it's not unrequited love..is it?

Your heart sunk from your throat all the way to your stomach and your eyes narrowed. You were unsure now. Was he just lying all this time? Or is it something else? You couldn't even believe you’re entertaining the idea that this could be real.

The first thing you thought to do is call Doppio. Come clean. Maybe you guys could talk about this and it would all just blow over like a bad dream. You sure hoped so but you don't hold out too much. He was not picking up and you felt the tickle in the back of your throat again of the encroaching illness.

Everything's hazy but you remember the panic starts to set in backed by a rational anger and frustration at your current predicament. You remember getting into your car after one too many missed calls and just driving over there. You know where he is of course. You’re not sure he ever leaves the garden unless he’s with you.

You remember your harsh and hurried footsteps up to the door to the greenhouse. The place wasn't open yet, it was far too early, but you know that the door isn’t locked. There's nothing to steal. With a harsher force than necessary you fling open the doors, your panic well contained on your face. You don't let anything show. Only your more labored breathing gives away the facade.

“Doppio?” You call out over the sound of the sprinklers, but there's no answer and you scour the place to no avail. Your only other option is his house.

All it takes is one knock for him to answer, his smile still bright as though he knows nothing and for a moment you want to believe it. You want to buy into his sweetness again. But the nagging growth in your throat serves as a constant reminder why you’re here.

“Can I come in?” You ask, though your voice is chewed up and raspy. You’re clearly struggling and his face falters while he steps aside.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “Do you need water?”

You start to say yes but you cough and have to spit another petal onto the floor. Doppio, who almost turned towards the kitchen, looks at you.

“Oh.” He simply states, “Faster than I expected. A bit easier too... It’s rare, very rare, unless you know what you're doing. Did you know that each person has their own type of flower?”

As he’s speaking you feel something in your chest tighten and it grips your throat. You feel the need to cough the blockage away again, but no matter how much you try nothing changes. Leaning against the wall with one arm you’re gasping and Doppio raises your chin for you to look into his eyes. He’s certainly not the Doppio you remember. His eyes have changed color, they hold much more malice than they ever did or you ever imagined they could. They remind you of his brother.

“I wonder what's yours." He says and bends down to pick up the petals you've coughed onto the floor. He holds them up as if inspecting them in the light. "

You'll make a wonderful addition. We haven't had irises yet.” He says with a glance back to you.

It's then your worst fear becomes realized and everything runs through your head at once. Fear, regret, anger, so much anger at letting yourself get into this mess as your body fails itself. You’re going to suffocate, there's no doubt in your mind. You fall to your knees, practically retching up petals. At the same time you appear among the list of the missing, a beautiful new section of irises has opened up in the garden much to another person's delight.

#jojos bizarre adventure #Jojo Part 5 #doppio x reader #diavolo #fanfic

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veorlian · 4 years ago

Text

Idolatry - Concealed Carry

Note: Part 1/3 of the chapters on the Citadel DLC. Technically part of a much longer fic, but I think they stand up okay on their own! An everybody lives/nobody dies au except that I didn’t realize I could do that until 2/3 of the way through. Sorry Kaidan :(((((((

Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard

Rating: T for swearing and stabbing.

ao3 link

Excerpt:

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant, and Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

Full text under the cut!

...

The apartment was huge. Shepard was sure there were other, fancier words to describe it, but she sure as hell didn’t know them. An entire wall was a window, looking out into the night lights of the Citadel. There were walls wholly covered in green, verdant plants that she couldn’t identify. There was a damn waterfall. Shepard let out a low whistle, looking around.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe. These walls weren’t closing in on her, they were too far apart. The ceilings were vaulted like a church, reaching up into the sky.

She wandered down to what had to be the living room (two giant couches, a fireplace, a grand piano??), and the TV flickered on.

“Shepard, good to see you,” Anderson said. There were new wrinkles creasing his forehead. She could hear distant explosions in the background of the vid.

“And you. How are you holding up?” she asked.

“We’ve had better days,” he said wearily.

“I know what you mean.” Damn, did she ever. “But why am I in this apartment?”

“I want you to have it,” he said, and Shepard’s brows reached her hairline. “I bought the place for Kahlee and I to settle down. Thing is, the longer I stay on Earth, the more I don’t want to leave. Figure someone should get some use out of it.”

“That’s...very generous. Are you sure?”

“It’s practical. We need you at your best, and you need somewhere you can take a break.”

“I-- thank you,” she said. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice anyways?”

“Not even a little bit. Make yourself at home,” he said, smiling. “You take care, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson,” Shepard said. He nodded and stepped out of frame. Marie replaced him. Her hair was more grey than black now, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Good to see you in one piece, Jeanne,” she said. “I hear you killed a Reaper single handedly. Have I mentioned that you should be more careful?” Shepard grinned crookedly.

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Apparently it bears repeating.” The affectionate exasperation was palpable, even with the light years between them.

“How are things there?” Shepard asked. Marie’s face became carefully blank, but Shepard had known her since she was a child. She couldn’t disguise the look in her deep brown eyes, or the small frown on her lips. Easy to forget, impossible to forget, that she was only 24.

“We’ll make it,” Marie said firmly. And then, “You’ll make it too. That’s an order, Commander.”

Shepard’s grin widened, and she sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Marie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. That was all that mattered.

“Go and get some rest, will you? The bags under your eyes are visible from Earth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Shepard said easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanne.” The call disconnected, and Shepard glanced around her new place. Her new place. Even the church had never truly been hers. There weren’t many things she considered truly her own, she supposed.

There were recordings littered around the apartment. Apparently Anderson had taken down voice notes for his biography. She couldn’t help the small, fond smile that flitted across her face. Her hands paused above the one labelled Shepard on the kitchen counter (she’d never had her own kitchen before). She pressed the play button, and she listened.

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There’s been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn’t true. People are quick to judge. They don’t know the whole story, I don’t even know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her, trust her with my life. Shepard’s had some rough patches, who of us hasn’t? She’s been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.”

Anderson’s warm voice filled the apartment, and his every word was laced with pride. Shepard realized belatedly that she was crying, hot tears painting her cheeks. Gently, she sunk to the floor and rested her head against the cupboard. She thought of Aratoht then, as she always seemed to. Makes my head spin too, she thought.

“Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got ‘no sir, I can’t do that.’ She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard’s been through. I like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there’s a whole bunch of people who lose sleep about her getting back home. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe we’re just to dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard...even more rare.” Anderson’s voice drifted away.

I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know? Garrus had said. Maybe they were right. Her heart was so full. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the warm feeling in her chest. Loved, maybe? Not a word she was used to choosing, but it fit the bill. She carefully picked herself up and dusted herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her private message terminal was blinking, and she went to check her unread messages. There was a note from Joker asking him to meet him at a sushi restaurant. Huh. She’d never had sushi before. No time like the present, she supposed.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Perhaps, she thought, her N7 hoodie and cargo pants wouldn’t be appropriate for an upscale sushi place. She wandered upstairs and peeked into her room (there was a hot tub. She’d...well, she’d never had a bath before. No bathtubs in the Alliance). She tugged open the closet and her eyes widened. There was that dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, but next to it was something else entirely. Reverently, she ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft to the touch, velvet maybe? She pulled it out.

It was a suit. It had to be a suit, although it was unlike any she’d ever seen before. The matching pants and jacket were there, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a deep blue, but as the fabric shifted in her hands it looked dark burgundy. There was a matching silk black camisole to wear underneath. It felt luxurious, soft as a cloud. She’d never owned anything this expensive that didn’t fire bullets. There was a small note tucked in the pocket.

Thanks for all your help. Consider this an early birthday gift. Who knows, by the time you take a break it may be your actual birthday. I think I’ve got the measurements right, but nobody’s perfect. - Miranda P.S., there’s a white shirt as well, but it’s much harder to get blood stains out of white silk.

Shepard smiled down at the note, and very carefully got dressed, anxious not to damage the clothes. She tugged on the heeled boots that seemed to go with it, and examined herself in the mirror. Miranda might insist that she wasn’t perfect, but she’d done a damn fine job with this. The cuffs fell to the exact right spot on her wrists, and for the first time in her life, the legs were long enough. The boots had a low heel, comfortable and well-balanced enough that she could run.

And Miranda, blessed Miranda, had included a concealed pocket for a switchblade. Shepard loosened her strict braid into something a little more casual, and she smiled at herself in the mirror one last time. Then she left for sushi.

The lineup outside the restaurant was around the block and then some. The people waiting were distinctly unhappy that Shepard had a reservation. If looks could kill, Shepard would have been pushing the daisies. She strode past the glares with practiced ease. Joker was seated at a table at the back, and he waved her over.

“Just gotta save the galaxy twice to get a place here, huh?” he said. “Hey, maybe when we do it again they’ll let us eat free!”

“That’s the spirit,” Shepard said. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“I feel like I should go check the Normandy for missing parts,” he griped. “I don’t trust those engineers.” Shepard chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“She’ll be fine, Joker. She’s been through the Omega 4, she can handle a few repairs. Relax, you’re on shore leave.”

“I’m gonna need a lot more drinks with umbrellas in them,” he said mournfully.

“I’m the first human Spectre. I’ll get you two umbrellas,” she said wryly.

“Awesome use of power, boss! So, what’d you ask me here to talk about? Your note said it was important.”

“Me? You invited me here,” Shepard said, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Commander Shepard, please I need to talk to you!” A young woman in an Alliance uniform pushed her way forward, with the maitre d’ shouting after her. The people in line looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked politely.

“I’m Staff Analyst Maya Brooks of Alliance Intelligence. Someone’s trying to kill you!” the woman cried. Shepard and Joker exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah. I think she’s aware,” Joker said dryly.

“No! I don’t mean the Reapers and Cerberus. Other people,” Brooks said. “They’re hacking your accounts, your communications, and it looks like they’re targeting you personally!”

“What information do you have?” Shepard asked. She straightened up, suddenly all business.

“Well--” Brooks began.

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant. Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

“Joker, I need you to stay calm,” Shepard whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to take these guys out. When the coast is clear, go find the rest of the team. But I need you to stay here until it’s safe, understood?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said fervently. One of the mercenaries approached to look behind the table. Shepard caught his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground, following it up with a devastating jab from her omni-tool directly to the face. She grabbed his gun and held it at the ready. She glanced around her cover and saw two more mercs coming at her. One went down with a shot to the face, the other with a thrown knife to the throat.

“Joker, now!” she hissed. Joker got up and stumbled away as best he could. Once he was out, Shepard activated her tactical cloak and booked it across the room. If there was one thing she’d learned these long years, it was that the best fight was the one you avoided. Once she’d made it to Brooks, she tried to help her to her feet. A sniper appeared from above and fired a shot, hitting Brooks. Shepard backed away and each shot landed by her, sinking into the ground.

If only the restaurant hadn’t decided to use fish tanks as their floor.

Shepard went down, glass shattering around her. She seemed to hit every bone on the way down the side of the building, banging into the wall over and over again. She slammed into the ground hard, all of her freshly-healed wounds screaming obscenities at her.

“Commander!” Brooks called over the comms. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Shepard groaned. “Can you find me a way out of here?” Dr. Chakwas was going to have a fit. She’d been off the ship two hours and she was already broken again. Ugh. At least the clothes seemed to be in one piece. Small mercies, Shepard supposed, as she struggled to her feet.

“Uh, yes! Keep going forward, I think!” Brooks said. Shepard grit her teeth.

“Thanks,” she managed. She slid down the ladder up ahead of her and took a look around. Somewhere in the wards, she figured.

“There’s a sky-car lot up ahead of me, Brooks. Could you find me a path there?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, yes! Of course!” Brooks replied nervously. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she wove her way through the wards. She came up on some kind of market, and she caught sight of another group of mercs barrelling towards her.

“There she is!” one of them called. Shit. This outfit really wasn’t built for stealth, huh? God, she’d kill for a rifle right about now. Instead, she slipped back into her tactical cloak and hid behind a fruit stand. What a weird fucking day.

“Shepard! Are you alright?” It was a relief to hear Garrus’ voice, even if it was only through her earpiece. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine, but I could use a hand,” she said ruefully, aiming an incendiary blast directly to the face of one of her attackers.

“Joker sent me your location, I’m on my way,” he said immediately.

“This is a secure channel!” Brooks cut in. “You’re putting Commander Shepard at risk!”

“I’m what? Who is this?” Garrus demanded.

“Brooks, Garrus. Garrus, this is Brooks,” Shepard said. “Now please hush, it's a little hard to kill mercenaries with people arguing in my ear.”

“Shepard, I am sending backup to your location,” EDI said.

“Sounds good, things are getting a little dicey here,” Shepard replied. She glanced over the fruit stall and had to duck quickly as a drone came barrelling towards her. It exploded directly next to her, sending pieces of watermelon and blueberries flying.

“I will attempt to register surprise,” EDI said dryly. Shepard grinned crookedly at that. She dashed forward as another round of mercs came at her. She spent the next several minutes fading in and out of invisibility, running hell for leather past the mercs. Her legs, miraculously, stayed upright. Small mercies. She pulled into the car lot and slammed the door shut behind her. A shot zipped past her, missing by inches. … “Having a bad day, Shepard?” Garrus called. He took out the merc that had shot at her, and scanned the area for any more threats. It looked like they were clear for the moment. Now to find a way out of the lot.

“You could say that,” she said, pushing flyaway hairs away from her face. “Let’s look for a control panel.” His eyes finally came to rest on her and his breath stuttered in his throat. She was wearing that thing humans called a ‘suit,’ but not like any he’d ever seen before. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“Nice outfit,” he managed. The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment. “Ah, control panel. Right.”

Shepard strode through the lot and glanced into the darkened office. She gently tapped on the glass. Garrus hurried after her.

“Could you open the doors up?” she said politely. The doors opened a second later. “Much appreciated.”

“Please leave,” the volus inside pleaded.

Garrus motioned for Shepard to stay behind him. Only one of them was armoured, after all. She raised an eyebrow and took point.

“So...you fell through a fish tank?” he ventured.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she replied.

“Damn shame,” he said, and now he was just doing it for the reaction. Midnight blue fabric. Not thinking with his brain. “I hear it was the best on the Citadel.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said more firmly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and then they both stepped onto the landing zone. That Brooks person had apparently radioed to say that a C-Sec shuttle was on the way. When it appeared though, the door opened to reveal a group of the same mercs that had been attacking Shepard. Garrus ducked down and dragged her with him. Bullets skittered across the ground around them.

“Any chance I could borrow that Widow of yours?” she asked breathlessly. He looked at her incredulously.

“I must not have heard you right,” he said. “You definitely did not just ask to borrow my favourite gun.” She opened her mouth to reply, and then her eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Krogan coming through!” Wrex bellowed, soaring through the air. He slammed down onto the front of the shuttle, sending half of the mercenaries flying. He mowed his way through the other half, shooting, punching, and in one case, launching them off the shuttle. Shepard was grinning wildly.

“Wrex! What are you doing here?” she asked, running forward.

“Negotiating krogan expansion with the Council,” he explained. “But that AI of yours said there’d be a fight. So here I am.”

“Glad you could make it to the party," Garrus lied through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wrex said. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Figured Shepard would need some help, if you’re the only backup she has.”

“Try to keep up, old man,” Garrus shot back.

“It may have escaped your notice, but we are being shot at right now, boys,” Shepard said dryly. Ah, right. Fair point. ... Once they were clear, they gathered in Shepard’s new apartment. Brooks was pacing back and forth, and Shepard put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Me? I got shot! Like, with an actual bullet. I took a desk job so I wouldn’t get shot! They said the medi-gel might make me jumpy, do I seem jumpy to you?” Brooks said.

“Hey, hey,” Shepard said soothingly, the voice she usually reserved for grieving families. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“We need to stop those guys, they might hurt more innocent people! Like me! I got shot!”

“Yes. Do we have any leads?” Shepard asked. The door to the apartment opened gently and Liara stepped through.

“I may have some suggestions on that,” she said. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“I think my ribs are bruised again, but what else is new?” Shepard said ruefully. “That C-Sec shuttle should have had officers in it. I’ll get in touch with Commander Bailey, see what happened,” Shepard said, punching in the number in her omni-tool.

“Wait!” Brooks said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Uh, wouldn’t anyone you contact also become a target?”

“She’s got a point,” Garrus said.

Shepard nodded brusquely. “You're right. We keep this between us for now.”

“Fortunately, I’ve brought a few people who can help,” Liara said cheerfully. The door was knocked on its hinges as every member of her crew -- and a few people who weren’t -- filed in. The apartment was large, but even so Shepard was going to need to figure out where to put all of these people. What, was there an event going on at the Citadel right now that had brought them all there? Well, besides her attempted assassination.

“The riff-raff have arrived. Garrus, hide the silverware.” Shepard’s voice was pitched to carry.

“Up yours, Shepard,” Jack shot back.

“What she said,” Zaeed added.

"I'll go see what I can find. Come find me when you have a moment," Liara said.

Shepard wandered around to speak with everyone, but it all just seemed to be variations on the theme of “haha Shepard ruined the sushi restaurant” or “Shepard, how could you destroy that sushi restaurant”? Evidently they’d collectively decided to forget that she hadn't exactly chosen to be shot at. What compassionate friends she had, she thought wryly. She gave up after a while and went to talk to Liara.

“What's the word?” she asked. The others slowly gathered around. There was barely enough room for them all to stand together.

“That pistol you found, it’s not available anywhere on the market. I’ve tracked it to a weapons dealer named Elijah Khan. He owns a casino nearby. They’re holding a charity event tonight,” Liara explained.

“So we sneak in and talk to this Khan guy?” Ash asked.

“My sources tell me he’s locked himself in his panic room. We would need someone to sneak inside this vent system.” Liara pulled up a map of the casino interior. “And deactivate the lock.”

“I say we blow the place to high heaven,” Zaeed suggested.

“I’m in,” Wrex said immediately.

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Shepard said. “Any other suggestions.” Zaeed politely flipped her off.

“Bringing a large group would arouse suspicion,” Thane said thoughtfully. “A covert infiltration would be best.” Shepard nodded.

“Alright, just a small crew then. I’ll need someone to take point with me, and then someone else will crawl through that vent,” Shepard said. “Any takers for the vent?” She looked around the room for volunteers. They were not forthcoming.

“Mechs are not allowed in case they are used for cheating. Legion and I will not be able to enter,” EDI explained. Shepard’s eyes swung to Tali and she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me!” Tali protested. “They’d uh...pick up my suit!” Shepard shrugged.

“What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers. We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…” Brooks trailed off as she realized everyone was looking at her. Shepard smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright Brooks, you’re our alternate,” she said.

“What? Me? I couldn’t...what do you mean alternate?” Brooks asked. Shepard smiled ruefully.

“I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already been shot once. And since I’ve had two gun mods go missing since I got back, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s someone here who can lend a helping hand. Kasumi?”

The galaxy’s best thief materialized, sitting on the kitchen counter. She had a cheeky grin under her hood.

“You’re getting very good at that,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure would’ve been awkward if I’d been wrong,” Shepard replied wryly.

“Damn, I should’ve stayed hidden!”

“What do you say to a heist with me?” Shepard asked. Kasumi hopped down from the counter and sketched a bow.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

“There’s just one problem,” Liara cut in.

“Current estimate: 57 problems and counting,” Mordin replied. “Additional 34 if you decide to take the krogan.” Shepard couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Well, one of the problems is that it’s black-tie only,” Liara said. Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her outfit. It was still damp from crashing through a fish tank, but otherwise undamaged.

“Will this do?” she asked, motioning to the suit.

“It’ll more than do,” Garrus said huskily, and then coughed awkwardly when several sets of eyes turned to look at him. “What? I’m just answering the question.”

“Who’s going with us then?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard grinned.

Bright lights flashed in Shepard’s eyes as she and Garrus walked down the literal red carpet, arm-in-arm. Maybe one day they’d get to go somewhere nice without worrying about a nefarious plot. For now, she was on vacation and she was going to enjoy herself, attempts on her life be damned.

“You clean up well,” Shepard commented. He had on another of those intricate turian outfits, with more buckles than fabric, in a combination of black and white. He wore it well. They were, she imagined, quite a striking couple. For one, they were a good head taller than anyone else. For two, well...

“Yeah? Then it’s a damn shame that all eyes are on you,” Garrus replied.

“I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest,” she said wryly.

“Well your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!” he said easily.

“You two are adorable,” Kasumi said from somewhere to Shepard’s left. Shepard flushed a brilliant red, and she heard Kasumi laugh brightly.

Shepard and Garrus mingled with the wealthy clientele, occasionally providing support for Kasumi as she travelled through the vents. Shepard realized, suddenly, that this was the bright and shining culture she’d seen from afar when she was younger. This was what she’d wanted to experience. As far as she was concerned, they could keep it.

Distracting the guards to disable the alarms wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but they managed it. But when they arrived in the panic room, Khan was already dead. Shit.

“It’s never that easy, huh?” Garrus asked.

“He received a call a few minutes before he died. Give them a ring and I’ll see if I can trace it,” Kasumi said. The large screen behind the desk flickered to light and a figure appeared on the screen. Their face was concealed by static, and their voice was altered.

“Elijah? Come crawling back?” they asked.

“Guess again,” Shepard said. Kasumi's hands flashed across her omni-tool.

“You. I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometres taller than you.” Shepard leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Brave. I thought as much, but it won’t matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall. I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.” The call ended.

“Gotcha,” Kasumi said brightly.

“Shepard, someone’s wiped the drive. Bit of a messy job though, there might be something left,” Garrus said.

“Between EDI, Legion, and Tali, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Let’s go.”

They were once more gathered around the pool table, now with even less room than before. They were discussing the information they’d been able to find on Khan’s drive, mostly information about the guns that Shepard’s attackers had bought. Glyph flew over and hovered above the table, flashing red.

“Commander, I have found your Spectre code being used at the Citadel Archives,” he said.

“What would they want there?” Shepard asked.

“Shall we go find out?” Liara said.

“But who? We can’t bring everyone,” Brooks piped up. Shepard grinned.

“Why not?” she asked. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Very well, but who will take point with you?” Liara asked. Wrex coughed pointedly. And then Javik coughed even more pointedly. Tali coughed politely, but also pointedly.

“Garrus and Jack, you’re with me. Everyone else, divide up into three teams of whoever is least likely to want to kill each other.”

“What happens if I want to kill bird-brain?” Jack asked.

“Think happy thoughts,” Shepard suggested.

“Those are my happy thoughts,” Jack replied snarkily. Ah. Some things never changed.

They’d barely made it into the archives when they walked into a trap. The others were up on the catwalks above, and every door in the room slammed shut. A figure appeared behind Brooks and pressed a gun to her temple. They were shadowed, and even Shepard’s excellent vision couldn’t quite make them out.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” they said.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded. The figure chuckled darkly.

Why do I know that voice? Shepard wondered. The figure tossed Brooks aside, and strode forward into the light. She wore the same uniform as the mercs, but her face…Shepard stared back at her own Roman nose and burning red hair. Only not quite. This nose had never been broken, and there wasn’t the familiar patchwork quilt of scar tissue across her face and neck.

“I’m you, but better,” the other Shepard said. “Without all the doubts and the wear and tear.”

“Huh. This officially takes the cake for the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” Shepard said. “Let me rephrase: what the fuck is going on?”

“Cerberus spared no expense when it came to bringing you back. Me, they made for spare parts, in case you needed an arm, or a lung, or a kidney. When they had you, they discarded me,” her clone snapped. Shepard’s brows knit together.

“Well if you’re me, then we should be working together,” she said. The clone scoffed.

“Why would I bother helping you? Why should I care? You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take everything from you. But there was no way I’d fool your friends, so I needed to get rid of them as well. All the people that turned their backs of their responsibilities to join the cult of Shepard,” the clone spat. The cult of Shepard…?

“No one will ever believe you’re me,” Shepard said, trying a different tactic.

“Sure they will, when I’m flying your ship,” the clone replied. Shepard froze and then immediately started keying into her omni-tool.

“Traynor, I need you to lock down the ship, understood? Here are the command codes,” she said quickly. Her clone smirked and waved a hand in front of her.

“Good idea, if only that message had been sent,” she said. She keyed up her own omni-tool and raised her voice slightly. “Traynor, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure. Here are the command codes.”

Shepard’s hands balled up into fists. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone steals my ship.”

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Shepard called after her. “Do you know your own name?”

“It’s Joan,” the clone replied smugly. Shepard grinned, baring her teeth.

“Guess again,” she said, and she activated her tactical cloak.

They fought their way through the archives, the other teams racing on the catwalks above. Liara’s information drone, Glyph, scouted ahead. Occasionally he returned, saying that he mistook the clone for Shepard. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and she mostly succeeded.

“The other Shepard’s still alive!” one of the mercs yelled.

“The next person who says that is a dead man!” the clone snapped over the comms.

“An accurate observation,” Legion said.

“What do I do??” Brooks cried. “They’re firing at me!”

“Just follow Shepard's lead and let us do all the heavy lifting!” Liara called.

“Touché, T'Soni!” Garrus shot back.

“Think you comedians could actually hit something?” Shepard shouted, ducking to avoid oncoming enemy fire.

They forged on through the archives, passing by clips of history. One by one, the teams stopped responding. Shepard pushed on faster, concern creeping up on her. And so she rushed headlong directly into a trap that she should’ve seen coming. Shepard set foot onto a platform and a forcefield appeared around her, Jack, and Garrus

The clone stepped forward, smiling smugly. Shepard tried to shoot her, but the force-field stopped the bullets dead. Shit. Shepard felt light-headed. She was locked in a small space. A very small space. Oh god, such a small space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she fought to control her breathing. She reached for her familiar, cold veneer. Like hell she was going to show weakness in front of the enemy.

“Well well, the great Commander Shepard. But not for very much longer.”

“Where are my friends?” Shepard spat.

“Locked up in iridium vaults forever. And it’s all your fault,” her clone taunted.

“The Alliance will stop you--” Shepard began.

“Will they?” Her clone cut her off. “What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” Brooks sauntered forward from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice had shifted, becoming deeper, more assured. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“You bitch,” Jack spat.

“I’m with Jack on this one,” Garrus said. Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own.

“This feels like the time when the villain explains their grand plan,” she said. “So what the hell?”

“Really we just wanted your Spectre codes,” Brooks explained. “But then you had to insist on surviving. So, I had to improvise.”

“Then I must say, I'm impressed,” Shepard said.

“Oh?”

“Your optimism is impressive,” Shepard clarified. “You threw, what, fifty mercs at me and you thought that would finish me off? For such a smart woman, that's remarkably short-sighted of you.”

“I think I've made up for it now. Let's see you get out of a locked box.”

“What, this? No, I've been in far worse situations than this. Last week I was trapped at the bottom of an ocean in a mech. This is nothing.”

“You seem remarkably calm for a dead woman,” Shepard’s clone said. Shepard’s eyes flicked to her and she sneered.

“I could say the same of you. You can change the records, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You know the name on my file, but you don’t know the first thing about me. How are you going to convince Anderson or Hackett or--”

“Or General Shepard?” Brooks cut her off. “We’ll deal with her.”

Shepard stilled. Her erratic heartbeat settled. Her words, when they came, were soft. “If you threaten her again, I will make you wish that I’d only killed you.”

“That's quite a threat. I might even be afraid, if Commander Shepard had said it. But you're nobody,” Brooks said.

“And you're on borrowed time,” Shepard replied. Brooks' expression faltered, just a tiny bit, at whatever she saw in Shepard’s eyes. Shepard’s clone scoffed loudly, breaking through the tense silence.

“You know the one thing about us that they can’t replace? Our handprint. It changes based on life experiences,” the clone said. Shepard thought of the scars that used to twist across her palms. “But now I’m going to replace yours.” The clone pulled up a terminal and pressed her hand down.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the computer said. The clone grinned smugly.

“Goodbye,” Brooks murmured. “I guess this is where legends go to die.” She and the clone waltzed away, seemingly without a care in the world. The platform jerked beneath Shepard and walls slowly closed around her.

“I’m going to strangle them,” Shepard vowed.

“I’m all for that, but we’re still trapped in this fucking box,” Jack pointed out.

“With limited air,” Garrus added. Shepard hummed noncommittally.

“Hey Glyph, you still out there?” she called.

“Yes Commander.”

“Get us out of this thing, and then go find the others. Nobody steals my ship, not even me.”

Joker pulled up in a sky car just as the last stragglers pulled themselves up onto the roof.

“I’ve got room for Shepard and two more, and you better decide fast because those assholes are stealing my baby,” he snapped.

“I could drive--” Shepard said.

“NO!” The sound of the entire crew shouting the word echoed across the rooftop.

“Fine,” Shepard muttered. “Garrus and EDI, with me.”

“I wanted to go,” Wrex grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you insulted my driving,” Shepard said. “Joker will be back for you soon.”

Joker hit the pedal to the floor as soon as everyone was in the car. A moment later, there was a whirring sound from the back seat.

“They’re trying to take control of the ship--” EDI said. Her eyes spun around, and sparks flew off of her. She shut down.

“Crap,” Garrus said. EDI powered back up, her eyes still askew.

“Are you...okay?” Joker ventured.

“I am functional, but I have no control of the Normandy. I feel...lost,” EDI said brokenly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you back in no time. You have my word,” Shepard said.

“Thank you.”

They arrived on the Normandy just as it was starting to pull away. Traynor was in the entryway, sputtering various unflattering things about Shepard. She caught sight of Shepard and she held her toothbrush threateningly in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You were...you were back there! I was minding my own business, and then you marched in and fired me! I barely had time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard held up her hands. “That’s a Cision Pro Mark IV. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums. I know that because you told me, because I’m the real Shepard. The one you saw earlier was a clone.”

“I--”

“I wish I had time to explain, but we need to get on the ship. No one knows it better than you do, Traynor,” Shepard said quickly. Traynor thought for a second. Apparently she decided to go along with it, because she leaned down to examine the ground.

“There should be a ventilation shaft around...here.” She pulled up a piece of the floor. EDI shook her head.

“You would need something that could precisely manipulate mass effect fields,” she explained. Shepard met Traynor’s eyes, and Traynor determinedly turned on her toothbrush.

Crawling through a shaft wasn’t exactly ideal for Shepard’s over six-foot frame, but she just about managed it.

“If you’d told me this morning that a toothbrush was going to save the Normandy, I’d have been very skeptical,” she whispered. “Remind me to reimburse Traynor, I think it broke.”

“Shepard, you--” EDI began.

“Later. Remind me later.”

They opened the grate into the CIC with guns blazing. The mercenaries were no match for them. EDI looked like she was running on sheer, unadulterated rage. She grabbed hold of a dying mercenary. Her voice was like ice. “Where are they?”

“Cargo bay,” the merc managed.

“Thank you for your assistance,” EDI said, and shot him in the face. Shepard met Garrus’ eyes and shrugged helplessly. They made their way to the elevator, and Shepard’s heart dropped to the floor. Mako’s cage, along with her carefully assembled collection of model ships, was resting in a garbage bin. There was a note on top with handwriting that was almost (but not quite) the same as Shepard’s.

“Please get rid of this, a ship is no place for…oh that is so not okay. They messed with my hamster guys. Now it’s personal,” Shepard hissed.

“Was it not personal before?” Garrus asked.

“I-- well, yeah. But Mako’s defenceless. What was a little hamster going to do to them--”

“I suggest we keep moving,” EDI cut in.

“Right, right. Of course.” Shepard hit the button on the elevator.

#shakarian #mass effect #me2 #me3 #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #oc: joan shepard #50/50 odds i delete this in an hour but who knows #did i write a 100k+ word story so that i could write the citadel dlc? mayhaps

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acelikesturtles · 5 years ago

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“What’re You In For?”

Prompt: #22 (Two Miserable People at the same Wedding) - Raphael x Olivia

Warnings: Light Alcohol Mention, Cursing (duh, its Raphael)

Word Count: 1,568

A/N: This is from an ask game that I reblogged a couple days ago. It took me a while to finish editing it because I really and truly prefer quality of my work over quantity, plus I needed to find the right soundtrack for this so I could focus 110%. I hope you like it @headhalfling!

As much as Raphael cherished April as a friend and Casey as his “fourth brother”, he had despised almost every last moment of the last 8 hours. The tie around his neck was too tight and the suit that April requested be tailored to his exact measurements still felt like it was smothering him. When he had finished the first suit fitting at the lair he had figured that all it would take to break free from this prim and proper prison was a well-timed stretch. That is, until Leo had very gently patted him on the shoulder and reminded him that they were putting all these fancy trimmings on for April and Casey, and that after the "incident" at their engagement party, Raph would likely do better blending in.

Oh yeah, that.

As if the clothing and the standard wedding formalities weren't enough to bother Raph, he had promised April he would only have one glass of champagne after the last time. Out of respect (and maybe a fair deal of embarrassment) following the unforeseen events of the engagement party, he decided that it might be best to stay alert, especially since being a ninja and all doesn't really pay in hard cash. Or at least...not enough cash that could cover the fees associated with a professional carpet cleaner.

One finger lazily circled around the brim of his empty champagne glass. Amongst all the chatter in the room his eyes remained fixed on Casey and April. He couldn't tell if he was trying to read their lips and decipher whatever lovey-dovey conversation they were having or perhaps just trying to understand the ins and outs of the event in general. He couldn't really say that he'd ever felt in love, and maybe he was just being incredibly cynical, but this felt like a strange way to celebrate it; stuffy outfits and distant cousins you've only seen twice in your life didn't seem like a celebration of love or a union of two families but like a strange ritual that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

Just as his brain was finally translating something admittedly pretty juicy happening between the happy couple, someone shuffled past him and took a seat beside him, drawing his attention reluctantly away. She didn't seem to be paying him much attention, instead tapping away at her phone rather furiously with one hand while brushing stray strands of blue hair away from her eyes. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set her phone face down on the table and grabbed the entirely unclaimed glass of champagne sitting in front of her place mat, then tapped her fingers rhythmically on the sides.

"What're you in for?" She said playfully then took a small sip from the glass.

He laughed, then leaned back in his chair. "Does 'best man' count?"

"Hey, sure, I'm not the police. Besides, I knew that already." Once again pushing her hair from her eyes, she crinkled her nose when she smiled. "You guys were, er, I guess--you are--kind of distinct. Kinda cool if you ask me."

She set the champagne glass back down, before gazing up at her new conversation partner. Her striking hazel eyes connected with his own and caused him pause for a moment. Again, full of surprises, she didn't seem to react in fear or shock so much as intrigue at his physical appearance. He couldn't say that this wasn't a first, all night long at both the engagement party and this reception he and his brothers had been getting unwarranted looks that definitely indicated the unspoken feelings of the person staring. This, however, was different. As for how, he wasn't quite sure, but for now he simply felt unusually awkward and unable to figure out what he was supposed to say next. Mikey was always the better one at socializing. It was in his blood. Raph on the other hand, despite all the time he had to learn, was about as good at talking to humans as a fish was at flying.

He glanced down at the name tag that had been so carefully placed in front of where she sat before taking a shot in the dark that maybe she was the table-mate that hadn't showed up yet. Awfully late for her to arrive now...but not impossible.

"Umm...are you Lorraine Bri-...Brinch-...you know what, fuck, not even trying to pronounce that."

"What?" She followed where his eyes led to the cutesy black and gold calligraphy neatly engraved on a piece of folded card stock. She frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not me. My name's Olivia. Does make me wonder who that is though, and why they didn't show up. Kind of disrespectful, to not even RSVP honestly."

"Well what about you?" Raph countered. As if he even cared about this random other woman's dignity when he didn't even know who she was beyond her impossible to pronounce last name. "I didn't see you until just now."

"I’ve been here,” she responded. She broke eye contact with Raph and began picking at the skin surrounding her fingernails. She had noticeably callused fingers which matched the overall aesthetic of her chipped and unpainted fingernails. “I just don’t really want to be here. I don't typically like stuffy events like this, as much as I'm really glad to see Casey and April together. These things make me anxious, and I would drive home, but that wouldn’t be cool because I’m the photographer’s ride." She gestured vaguely towards the woman in a pantsuit with long black hair that had been tirelessly capturing every last angle possible of the bride, groom, and bridal party.

"Hey, uh...me too." He answered. He was starting to feel anxious too seeing the way that she picked at her fingernails. “These events, they aren’t really for me. This tie ain’t doing it for me either, its kinda been choking me,” He gave her a small smile, hoping that it might ease her mind to have someone sympathize with her, even if it wasn’t entirely on the same page. Again, Mikey would’ve been better at this kind of thing than he was, but it helped that the connection between them was already sort of going well. Well, aside from him accusing her of being late to the wedding, that is.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed on his black and white striped tie. She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile while a short breathy laugh escaped her nostrils. “Well, there’s your problem. You tied it too tight, dummy. Here-”

Her callused hands reached up and began loosening the fabric fastened around his neck. Earlier when he had tied it himself he hadn’t bothered to ask for help, assuming that this was just how ties were supposed to feel, but the gradual feeling of relief that came with the freedom to move his neck like normal was ethereal. While she couldn’t fix the constricting fit of his suit, having the tie a little looser was already helping him feel more relaxed and adjusted. Their eyes locked again as she gently pulled her hands away from the satin, although this time something felt different. Like he was sweating. Everywhere.

With the relief of one discomfort came the creation of another. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, anytime, I learned how to tie those for a friend of mine a couple years ago. You should’ve asked for help from somebody sooner.”

Now he was beginning to feel really embarrassed. Did she think he was stupid? Or incapable of learning how to do normal human stuff like tying a goddamn tie? “Nah, they’re busy, didn’t wanna bother ‘em.” Now that made him at least seem noble.

“Well you weren’t bothering me.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you would’ve bothered your brothers by asking for help, their ties don’t seem to be bothering them.

Fuck.

Still feeling sweaty, Raph shrugged and chuckled. “Awright, fine, then I’ll call you next time I gotta wear this damn thing, yeah?”

Once the words had escaped his mouth he realized how silly they must’ve sounded, but he didn’t take them back. He wasn’t an entirely socially inept fool, that was Donnie’s job. She paused for a moment at his words and began searching his eyes for an answer that he didn’t know he had in him. This was uncomfortable and sweaty and hot...but he kind of liked it. Raph swallowed and broke eye contact with her unceremoniously then twisted the watch on his left wrist back into center position.

“Maybe I will.”

Olivia reached into her silver crossbody that until now, had been closely kept by her side entirely untouched. She uncapped a black ballpoint ink pen and scribbled a string of numbers onto a blue sticky note that had already been lightly doodled on (likely during the ceremony) with rough sketches of motorcycles juxtaposed against delicate daisies and baby’s breath she had likely seen in April’s bouquet. She tore the sticky note off and nervously stuck it onto his placemat. With a quick swig of the rest of the champagne left in the glass she had claimed, she stood up from her chair and gave him one last smile before hurriedly heading off in the direction of her photographer friend, leaving Raph with more questions than he did answers.

Maybe this whole lovey-dovey shit wasn’t so dumb after all.

#prompt #although it was technically from an ask game but hey #tmnt #acelikesturtles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse tmnt #authoring by ace

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tinytinyshorty · 5 years ago

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Athena lay flat in the grass, her stomach spreading the grass below her pressing it to the dry dirt. Her blue eyes squinted against the fierce rays of the blaring sun, both of them trained on the white book in front of her. Every now and then they would shoot up for a split second before throwing themselves back down to the paper.

The charcoal ran riot across the paper sketching out the body of a beast the towns people called a vicious demon. Athena refused to believe what they said, after all how could they say something about such a beautiful creature as this?

Athena perched herself with her sketchbook outside the cave of the beast. This was the closest she had ever got not because she was scared of it but because she didn't want to frighten it. She would never forgive herself if it ran off and she could never sketch it's beautiful features again.

The human drew long swirls for the hair that hung in long raven black curls. He had such a stern looking face and even as he slept it was cold as stone. He had a turned up nose which almost resembled something of a pig snout but on a much more petite scale. Large tusks protruded from his jaws like a tiger. A top his head lay two large curled ram like horns that were deeply scratched and chipped.

But by far this most intriguing detail about the beast was that he was impossibly colossal. When Athena had first stumbled upon the creature he stood at his full height, he was peaking at fifty or sixty foot tall.

But still even with all his terrible details Athena found herself in awe and fascination with it. Maybe it was the fact he looked somewhat human? She only felt fearful when she got too close, he had even spotted her a few times but he never made a move to hurt her. So why would she need to be fearful?

As the sun started to set over the landscape and Athena decided to call it a day. Once the sun had fully set he would awaken and she didn't want to be here when that happened. Closing her sketch book softly she began to sit up. As she stretched she screwed her eyes shut and when she opened them again she found the creature laying exactly how she was a few moments ago. His chin rested on the floor of the cave, his reddish eyes were surprisingly soft as they consumed her image.

Athena froze in his looming shadow, her muscles tensed and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins. The beast let out a puff of air which whipped around her small form, blowing her brown short hair in multiple directions.

Althea let out a breath of her own as she tried to make her body loosen up. "I'm sorry I disturbed you." The beast didn't say anything just continued to stare at her in bitter silence. "Okay. I'm going to leave now."

The beast narrowed its eyes but didn't make an attempt to strike her or prevent her from leaving. Athena didn't turn her back on the creature but stepped quietly out of sight backwards, once she felt far enough she turned and began walking towards the village.

She had a hard time reconciling why the creature hadn't attacked her. He had every right to as she was in his territory. But for some strange reason he didn't? Never before had she been afraid but being so dominated by his gaze was completely different from seeing him from afar. Those eyes, something was strange about them and it wasn't just their unusual deep red colouration. It was the depth they had to them, the foreboding layers of pain and loneliness that he had let her see.

Athena physically shook her head as if the action would wipe those mesmerising eyes from her thoughts. However they remained as stationary as ever, seemingly burned into the backs of her eyelids.

A short walk later she found herself at the kingdoms edge. She took in the sight alongside a breath of the mountain air. It was spring, the nature around the kingdom had started to bloom to life and not only that but the season marked the change in the kingdom too. Festivals and trading markets were in full swing and the air was alive with scents of aromatic spices.

Walking through the streets it was hard not to bump into other villagers or travellers. Athena took note of a man she hadn't seen before, he was studying some leather bound books on a market stall. He was finely dressed in a sharp orange embroided suit, he carried a brown sad looking case by his side. Whoever he was Athena decided he was of great importance and felt humbled a man of his standing had stopped in their little kingdom hidden from the world.

Athena's eyes narrowed as they targeted a young boy around five or six years old. She recognised him right away from his mousy features, Tobias was one of the well known pickpockets, a master of the art even though he was young. That's why no one took notice of him, everyone underestimated him and he used that to his advantage.

While the rich traveller didn't even notice as Tobias's slim nimble fingers graced the silky pocket lining of his coat. It was like watching a lion stalk its prey, Athena knew it wasn't her place to intervene but she couldn't help it. If a rich traveller had a bad experience while visiting a place word spreads quickly which can stop other travellers or markets meaning no trade will be done and the kingdom will fall.

Tobias snaked his hand out of the pocket undetected, pulling a tanned leather wallet out along with it. A sinister grin crept across the small boys face as he slipped the wallet into his pocket. Tobias second checked the area before heading towards Athena. Acting on impulse Athena reached out and snatched the boys wrist in her fist.

"Hey!" The boy cried trying to tug away.

"Give that wallet back, it isn't yours!" Athena snapped as she clutched the boy close to her body rendering him defenceless.

Athena routed around in his pocket to find it empty. Grunting she span him round and dug her hand into the second one where her slender fingers stroked the smooth soft leather. Snatching it up she waved it in front of the boys reddened face.

"Do you have any idea how this could have affected us as a collective?!" Athena hissed.

The boy's brow furrowed and suddenly he cried, "Oi Sir! Thief!" Tobias grabbed Athena's wrist and pointed at the wallet in her hand.

The rich man turned to gander at the sudden commotion, as did most of the market. The woman quickly pieced together what the boy was trying to do, he was going to frame her for his crime! Athena glanced around at the judgmental faces burning holes in her skin. A large man stationed on the butchers market pointed the finely sharpened tip of a knife at her.

"Don't just stand there, reprehend the little bitch!" He yelled which jostled the towns people in action.

Athena was quicker, turning on her heals she sprinted and weaved her way through the markets as the crowds behind her were quick on her heels. The woman was almost out of the kingdom when someone faster than her jumped on her back. Athena went down with a shriek. More people piled around her, all sneering at her and some spitting. The last burning image she saw as black splodges dominated her sight was a pair of two crimson orbs in line with the trees. They stared intently and frowned at the commotion. Letting the exhaustion get the better of her Athena gave into the demands of her body and blacked out.

The confines of the cold unforgiving cell closed around Athena, it felt like they were closing in to eat her alive. Loud thumping boots rang down the prison walk framing the deathly howls of the prisoners inside. The boots stopped outside Athena's cell and the dull sound of the key being turned in the lock echoed in her ears.

Athena glanced up at a well built guard, a pistol securely clipped to the belt of his uniform. His large hand rested of the body of it as an unspoken warning not to try anything stupid. The guard gestured to the open doorway and Athena followed obediently. Not one of the remaining prisoners chastised her as she walked solemnly passed to her fate.

It wasn't usual to be hanged for petty theft but the rich man turned out to be a duke, who had taken high offence to the fact that not only had he been robbed but robbed by a woman. He insisted on her death as punishment.

What seemed to be half the kingdom had turned out to the public hanging. Made public to warn future wrong doers. The sun was high meaning it was some time around noon, the fierce rays beat down on her deathly white skin. The executioner placed a gloved hand on the small of Athena's back as he guided her to the ominously swinging rope hung from the rafters, goading her so it may claim her life.

Though it wasn't her fault she was stood here, she would never plead for her life, her pride would not let her. With her head held high she stepped forward and looped her head with the rope. Everyone held their breath as the executioner got into position.

A high pitched scream of a woman rang splitting everyone's ears. All turned to see Athena but her lips had remained firmly sealed. Another scream from the back of the gathered crowed swivelled heads as a young woman ran through the crowd. Tripping in her panicked state a man managed to pick her up and get her frenzied eyes to focus on him.

"My God girl what ever is the matter with you?" He exclaimed. The woman's face paled another shade as she uttered the word so softly that it was barely audible. "Speak up woman!"

"Demon!" The woman shrieked and with that simple word uttered the town was thrown into pandemonium.

The beast emerged from the shadows, piercing blood red eyes glowed from the dark corners that it lurked in. The beast uncoiled itself and its body writhed and pulsed as it unravelled to reveal its full terrifying height.

The towns people all remained in a state of shock, not one person moved as the beast revealed itself, not even the hysterical woman from earlier. All breathing seized as the beasts eyes looked over every soul in the towns square. All met his gaze as his shadow engulfed them all to darkness.

The trance seemed to end as his eyes rested on the pale ones of the woman stood on the gallows. Her fists had intertwined with the rope, knowing if her knees gave out she would be hung. She slowly took the noose off her neck, her skin was slightly irritated by the frayed rope. The two held contact for a breath longer before instincts overtook Athena's body and she fled the square. The beast wasted no time either as he let out a howl that couldn't be from this realm.

The beast lurched forwards on all fours, claws digging into the stone cobbled streets and tearing it up as if it was nothing but dirt as he scrambled towards his prey. Athena ran down any of the small allies she could find hoping the beast would be halted or at least slowed but it didn't seem to deter it, if anything it encouraged him, adding more fun to the chase.

It used its size to his advantage and buildings were sent crumbling and got shoved into piles of brick rather than homes. As another house was sent crashing to the ground Athena noticed the dust clouds around her began to thicken and swirl around the pair. As the house caved Athena used the new swamp of dust to hide herself as she dived into the bakery. Hiding under the counter Athena pulled her jumper over her hands and tried to smother her heavy breathing with the thick wool.

Her eyes began to weep from the dusty air but also with fear. It was the same creature she had been sketching for all those months, but never before had she seen him like this, it was as the woman called him in the square, he had become somewhat demonic. Athena couldn't help but compare the soft gentle creature that she had so carefully drawn in soft detail and now how it had grown into this grotesque monster that she had come to fear.

The commotion had stopped outside. Nothing moved. All that remained was the panting breath with an underlining throaty growl. The beast had stopped chasing as he had lost sight of the prey. Athena, still with one hand over her mouth, dared to peak over the counter. Her frantic eyes were met with a pair that ached with hunger. They looked so soulless, so lonely.

Athena threw herself back to the dirty floor of the bakery, her hands cradled over her head as more rubble descended on to her small form. The beast stuck his thick arm through the door in an attempt to snatch her but had disturbed the building in the process sending some plaster and other rubble to the floor of the shop.

Turning her head Athena watched the hand blindly search for her. Why was he so fixated on her? As the hand felt its way through the shop Athena could only look on in pure terror. Slowly she backed herself up to the wall, she pressed her body so hard against it and begged that somehow she could melt through the stone.

The fingers snaked their way onto the counter and down it on the other side. The counter groaned under the weight of his wrist sitting on it and it made Athena marvel in how colossal this creature truly was if only his wrist was enough to make their furniture strain. The fingers glided over the floor, feeling every piece of rubble and groove made in the tile flooring. Athena clamped her eyes shut, no longer being able to stomach the sight of the hand creeping ever closer to her.

Something warm brushed over her leg, Athena let a cracked cry cascade over her lips as now she knew the beast defiantly knew where she was and was now at his mercy. Pinching her small delicate ankle between his first finger and thumb the hand started to retract and drag the small woman out with it. Athena yelled profanities and cursed her Gods as she desperately tried to grasp anything to stop her from being dragged to what she thought was her certain death.

The beast recoiled as his prey was dragged out for his eyes to devour. She was so small, smaller than he remembered. His head cocked to the side as she shivered below him, a meek little thing she was. Letting her ankle slip from his grip the woman stumbled to her feet once more and began to run. The beast remained stationary, he watched her head towards the square, her head constantly swivelling around to see if he had given chase. The beast crouched his legs then used them to spring after her.

Athena ran clumsily towards the towns centre, her body screaming in exhaustion but her will to live shouted back louder. Her calves burned and her eyes stung but she was alive and that was all she cared about. Her heart plummeted when he saw the giant give chase again, he was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse. She had made it to the edge of the square when the beast leaped over head and landed right on her path.

The beast lay his hands out like a wall but it was too late for Athena to stop her legs from running and she ran directly into his grasp. Villagers watched on from the square and close by houses as the beast bowed his head into his hands and emerged with Athena nestled in his lips.

Athena hung crookedly from his jaw, one hand lay on his tusk to steady herself, short screams rolled out of her mouth each time the beast moved his head. He seemed to look each villager in the eye before lurching his head back and letting Athena fall completely into his jaws. Snapping them shut the giant slowly exited the kingdom, leaving it in ruin. None of the village people tried to stop him, they all knew too well that even if they wanted to they couldn't.

Inside the maw Athena stole herself the moment to cry, knowing these were probably her final moments and in them she couldn't even confide in a death in the daylight. She was stuck in a fate that was far more undignified. Athena did her best to let her weary body relax, the confines of her new prison was wet and warm and it was almost comforting. She could hear the heavy panting the creature conducted as he ran towards where ever he was destined to take her. Athena timed her breaths with that of the creatures in an attempt to give her mind something to concentrate on other than gazing to the back of the throat and letting it come up with the many ways the beast would no doubt like to eat her.

The creature had pinned Athena to the roof of his mouth in order to stop her jostling around has he ran. She had a sweet taste to her, he would be lying if he said he did not enjoy her taste. The breathing slowed as he reached the cave, the same one the pair met by earlier that day. Ducking to get inside the beast curled up and carefully lowered his jaws to the ground. Letting Athena tumble out, drenched in saliva.

Athena spluttered and tried to wipe what she could from her eyes. The giant looked her over, she seemed okay, defiantly a little confused and dazed but other than that she had no broken bones. She was stood up and wasn't complaining of any pain. Grunting satisfied with his work the giant beast lay on his back and diverted his gaze to the ceiling of the cave.

Once Athena had cleared her vision she gasped as her entire view was taken up by the shear size of the monumental beast that lay before her. She took a few uncertain steps back wards towards the exit of the cave.

"You can leave by all means little one, but if they catch you I wont save you again." The beast grunted.

Athena jumped slightly at his deep loud voice that cut though the silence like a hot knife through butter. She had never heard it talk before, she assumed it didn't speak. Her face contorted into a frown as she considered his words.

"Save me?" She echoed. "You didn't save me at all! The only thing you saved me from was from a quick death. Rather than dying at the hands of my people I now have to suffer by the hands of you."

The beast shared in her frown as he sat up to see the woman. She was trembling but she held herself highly. He admired that.

"So, if you are merciful you shall grant me a swift death, do not drag it out." The woman nodded and met his gaze with unfaltering eyes.

"I do not wish to kill you my dear." The giant said simply. "Would I have desired to kill you I would have done so when I first laid hands on you."

Athena took this into consideration and shook her head in disbelief. So would tainted fortune have it. "If you are not destined to end me, then enlighten me to what?"

The giant scoffed at her, daring little soul to make demands to a beast like himself. Reaching behind himself and enveloped a tiny object in his large fist and dropped it at her feet. Athena yelped a little in surprise as his giant first overhung her but all stopped when she saw what he had dropped.

"A creature with such talent should not be hanged for crimes she did not commit." He said with a snide smile.

The book had landed open on the page she had marked this morning, it was the drawing of the beast in the cave dosing. She had completely forgotten she left her sketch book. "You noticed me drawing you?"

"It was hard not to. You intrigued me, you were the only human I have encountered to not run off screaming in fear and not only that but to seek me out time and time again." He remarked.

"You never gave me reason to fear you until you chased me half way through town and held me captive." Athena said timidly. "I thought you were going to eat me."

The comment earned a smile from the giant. "I had to make it look convincing. I am sorry if I scared you."

"Convincing?"

"If the kingdom thought you were alive, they would have come looking for you. So, you are permitted to leave any time you want, though I do advise you wait a few days for the kingdom to focus on rebuilding before seeking lands yonder. In that time you are most welcome to stay with me." The giant spoke so softly and elegantly Athena could have closed her eyes and swore she was speaking with a human of high standing. The only thing she did notice was he had a sort of a lisp on some words due to the tusks.

Athena bit her lip as she mulled over the offer. She had no reason to trust the beast but was left with little option. She was never good with survival out in the wilds and knew she couldn't return to the kingdom. Sighing she nodded reluctantly.

It was deep into the night, the giant lay snoring loudly which bounced off and echoed through the cave walls. Athena lay with the woollen blanket the giant had given to her tucked up to her nose. Her small body shivered as cold wind ran ramped through the open mouth of the cave. Athena wondered how he could sleep so soundly against the bitter cold.

Athena sat up and wrapped the woollen blanket around herself like a cape. Her bare feet creeping across the cave floor woke the light sleeping giant, he kept his eyes shut as he waited for the human to get closer.

"Is it wise to wake a slumbering giant Little one?" He grunted, his voice gravely from sleep. Still not opening his eyes he turned on his side so he was facing her.

"I am really... really.. cold." She whispered, her words were so faint it made the giant open his eyes ever so slightly.

About a metre away from him stood a trembling figure, her skin was pale as the moon and her lips were blue. The giant took in a sharp inhale as he saw her ghostly figure. Snaking out a hand he tenderly collected her up in his large fist. Immediately the small human curled into the heat of his hand, she was cold as ice. Laying on his back he placed the woman on his chest, wrapping her woollen blanket around her before pulling his own over her too.

Athena nestled into the warmth of his chest and soon she couldn't bare to carry the weight of her eyelids. "Thank you giant." She uttered.

"It's Matheus. And you're welcome human."

"Its... Athena." She managed to whisp out before giving herself into sleep.

Matheus chuckled at the small human. Placing a protective hand over her body he stroked down her back with his thumb. "Good night Athena."

#giant/tiny #giants #smol bean #g/t #gianttiny fluff #gt/tiny #gt community

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nev3rfound · 6 years ago

Text

leaving the guardians - chapter two : b.b

i’m actually pleasantly surprised by the amount of love for this little idea and thank you for the support

one / part two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight

“I can’t believe you’ve roped us into this.” Peter sighs as he glances across the table to me. Instead of giving him a quick comment I remain quiet, waiting for the core team to enter the room.

“So these people, they special at all?” Gamora asks as Fury stands before us as we sit around a large table with one handcuffed to a chair leg for our own safety.

Little do they know how easy it is to get out of any kind of handcuff with a bit of practice and having Peter Quill as your brother.

“They’re an elite team of Earth’s most powerful people.” Fury states and Gamora rolls her eyes to me and I try to suppress my smile. “You might wanna straighten up a bit.” He retorts and Gamora shuffles in her seat, her frown remaining adamant.

Before we know it several figures walk through the door. I recognise Steve, Tony and blue eyes trailing behind the rest, his metal arm glimmering beneath the yellow lights. “Sup?” Drax calls out, lifting his free arm up with a smile on his face.

All of them merely look around to one another whilst I hold back my laugh. “Yeah, Drax I don’t think they’re as friendly as you’re anticipating.” I speak up and Drax sighs, lowering his arm back to his lap.

Tony steps forward, standing beside Fury as he lowers his sunglasses. “All we want to do is find out more about you guys.” Raising his arms in defence Peter scoffs loudly and Tony raises an eyebrow to him. “Something funny to you Star Boy?”

“It’s Star Lord, actually.” Peter retorts and a loud gruff sounds from amongst the heroes.

“Lord of Stars? Hardly.” A few heads turn as a large man stands amongst everyone with long blond hair. “A Lord of a patch of grass more likely.”

“Okay before things get nasty,” I call out, leaning back in the chair as I ignore the dull ache spreading around my wrist. “what if I just tell you guys what’s what?” Looking around Peter shakes his head disapprovingly whilst Rocket hides his head in his paws, well, hands.

“Nope.” Peter interjects. “Not happening, Y/n.”

“Oh come on Peter, why not?” I question and he sighs heavily before meeting my gaze.

“Because you’ll say somethin’ stupid. Tell them something they shouldn’t know about just yet or about the stones.” He mutters the last part, but he was loud enough for even blue eyes to hear in the far corner.

Twitching I turn away, focusing back on Tony. “If you help my friends fix their ship I’ll stay put, tell you everything you want to know. Deal?”

Fury, Tony and Steve turn around, heading out of the room, leaving a few of the Avengers to stand watching us as we all avoid one another's glances. “What’s with the rabbit?” The blond haired man speaks up and Rocket groans under his breath.

“What’s with the hair goldilocks?” Rocket quickly retorts and the man laughs wholeheartedly before nudging blue eyes rather forcefully.

“I like this one.”

A short silent follows before Gamora speaks up. “So, you all have names?” The figures before us start to separate and stand in a line as if they were in a lineup, something I know all too well.

The woman with the dark auburn hair clears her throat. “I’m Natasha.”

Beside her she glances up, smiling to the man beside her who introduces himself as Clint. Following down there is Sam, Rhodey, Thor and lastly blue eyes.

He struggles to meet anyone's gaze, especially mine as his eyes focus on my hand, the red mark spreading around my wrist. His lips part and he lifts his head back up, his dark brown hair falling back, revealing those bright eyes. “I’m Bucky.” He mutters and Gamora laughs to herself.

“And here I thought you two had strange names.” She kicks Peter and smiles over at me.

“Well,” Natasha steps forward. “you’re obviously Y/n, that much we know.” I give her a little salute and her frown refuses to budge as she turns her attention around the table. “Rabbit, Drax, Gamora, tree and Star Boy?”

“Star Lord.” Peter sighs before glancing at all of us, evidently unimpressed. “Why’s that so hard to grasp?”

“And I have a name.” Rocket shuffles in his seat, standing taller. “I’m Rocket, and that’s Groot.”

“I am Groot.” Groot mutters and Rocket chuckles to himself.

“That’s hardly polite, but I agree.” He comments and I smile before hearing the door open and the three men re-enter.

Closing the door behind them Fury pulls out a chair, sitting down as the Avengers follow suit and take a seat around all of us. Bucky moves and sit down beside me, a small smile meeting mine before he averts his attention back to Fury.

“We’ll take you up on your offer, Y/n.” Fury states and I smile, but he lifts his hand up. “But you’ll need to be monitored at all times.”

I let out a small laugh. “Is that supposed to be some kind of punishment? What do you think these guys do? Let me wander off?” I scoff and Peter exhales loudly.

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a security measure. You may have come here with no intention of causing harm, but we don’t know who might be following you.” Lifting my head up I meet Gamora’s gaze, her eyes screaming for me to keep my mouth shut. “We’ll have an Avenger with you at all times, anyone like to volunteer.”

Looking around I watch as they all exchange glances, and then I watch as his metal arm slowly rises. “I’ll do it.” He speaks softly and Steve smiles over to Bucky. “I mean if you don’t mind the company, doll?” His eyes turn to me and the little hint of an accent makes my heart flutter.

“Can’t say I do.” I respond, smiling to Bucky before averting my attention back to Fury.

“That’s settled then. We’ll escort your friends back to their rooms,” Gamora opens her mouth, but Fury lifts his hand up silencing her before she can comment. “actual rooms this time.” He turns to see her closing her mouth. “And will help you fix your ship whilst Y/n talks with us in private.”

“Sounds fair to me.” I speak up and lift my arms to cross them, but feel the tug instead. “Since we’ve come to a conclusion, can we be released from these handcuffs now? You’re giving me traumatic flashbacks.”

Tony rolls his eyes before motioning to Rhodey who walks over, unlocking the handcuffs and I grasp my wrist, trying to hide the redness from Bucky's gaze.

Standing up we all began to depart from the room, I was lead in a different direction from everyone else and could hear Peter yelling. “Hey, sis!” He repeated once again and I turned around, seeing his face soften. “Make us proud.” He smiles and I feel an arm lightly ghosting my back, guiding me away from those I had grown up knowing, the only people I can call family.

After hours of sitting and talking, hoping to explain how things worked for us I felt drained. It seemed no matter how much I told them, tried to explain in simple terms nothing quite stuck. I had drawings, sketches and torn up pieces of paper around the room as I groaned loudly. “Why is it so hard to understand? You’re a team of superheroes!” I state as I motion to Steve, Tony and Bucky behind Fury.

“True, but we aren’t friends with a talking racoon and tree, Y/n.” Bucky interjects and I raise an eyebrow to him and cross my arms.

“They have names, you know.” I retort and Bucky sighs before rising to his feet. “Don’t act like you don’t know ‘em twinkle eyes.”

Bucky opens his mouth, but no words follow causing Steve to suppress his chuckle that tries to sound. “Anything else you can tell us?” Tony asks, crossing his arms as his eyes zone in on mine.

All I can hear in the back of my head is Peter, his voice telling me not to say anything. But then again, Peter isn’t here and these guys might like a heads up. “Well, there’s something coming,” I sigh loudly as I compose myself to tell them what I know should remain a secret. “we’re unsure what it is, but we were chasing a ship before we crashed. Whoever, or whatever they are, it’s powerful.” I explain and watch as their gazes flicker from one another, but they keep their expressions vacant.

“Okay,” Steve is the first to speak up as everyone looks to him. “what can we do to help?”

I let out a huff before sitting back down. “If you really want to help,” I meet everyone’s eyes, the drive, the passion and determination. “you can help me and my family leave Earth and deal with these things.”

A groan comes from Bucky as he shakes his head. “Why’d I have a feeling you’d say that, doll?”

Lifting my legs up I cross them over on the table, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t know what to tell you guys, thems the truth as dear ol’ Dad would tell me.” I roll my eyes at the faint memories of him, knowing he’s not much to miss.

After a prolonged silence Tony pushes himself away from the desk, rising to his feet. “We’re not going to get any more from her today, might as well leave her be.” He walks out of the room, not even glancing my way before he disappears out of sight.

“This isn’t over, Y/n.” Steve states before meeting Bucky’s eyes and he nods in response.

“Come on, doll.” Bucky motions for me to follow him and I rise to my feet, quick to be by his side as we leave the room and wander down endless corridors.

As we walk neither of us speaks up, Bucky merely keeps his eyes dead ahead, his arms tight to his sides whilst I look around anywhere I can. “How did you end up here then?” I finally break the painful silence and watch as Bucky’s shoulders fall, tension loosening.

“Me and Steve were best friends as kids,” He mutters. “and some bad stuff happened, I wasn’t a good person and Steve helped me out of it.”

“Bad stuff happened? What’d you do, rob a bank?” I laugh but his eyes shoot over to me and I stare back. “What? Is that supposed to intimidate me?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not afraid of me?”

I focus on him as we walk now, observing how he’s clenching his jaw too tight. “Why would I be?” My voice is soft, hoping to ease him out of whatever bubble he’s trapped in.

“I’ve killed people.” His words cut the air as if I were to run away, back down or hide from him.

Yet I shrug my shoulders. “Who hasn’t?” I retort and he scoffs lightly.

“But these people didn’t deserve it, they didn’t deserve to die.” Now his voice is getting louder, more powerful as his fists contract.

“I blew up an entire planet.” I close my eyes, allowing the truth to hover around us. As I open my eyes his hand is resting on my forearm, the two of us stood still in this corridor, no one else to hear the facts I’m not proud of. “They didn’t deserve it, not all of them.”

“Did you mean it?” His question is cold as I lift my head up, my eyes meeting his as I remain perfectly still, perplexed by his question.

Never has anyone asked that usually I’m asked why.

Why did I do it? Why I didn’t try to save the innocents? Why didn’t I try to stop it all from happening?

Slowly, I force myself to nod. “Yes.” I state bluntly, the single word hanging heavy around me. “Sometimes, I wish it hadn’t happened. But I knew if it didn’t, none of us would’ve survived.” As I blink I can see it all now, I can hear their cries for help as Peter is dragging my body back onto the ship. How in my delirious daze I watched the planet disintegrated into nothing, but their screams and cries never left me.

Tearing my eyes from his I begin to walk. Despite having no sense of direction I walk straight ahead, hoping the sound of my feet against the cool marble will ease their pain that lies behind my eyes. “But you’re not like them,” Bucky speaks up as I hear him lightly jog until he’s by my side once again. “you’re more human.”

A scoff escapes my lips as I lift my hand up, brushing through my hair. “Maybe it’s because I am human?” I sarcastically comment, hiding the pain that lingers just under the surface, but I can tell he feels it, he’s not ready to move on from this just yet.

“No, I mean, yes,” He sighs loudly, his shoulders rising as he tenses. “you’re the first person I’ve met who isn’t scared of me.”

I raise an eyebrow to him as he nods. “Well, as cute as I find your metal arm Bucky, I’m not afraid.” Nudging his flesh arm lightly I watch as a smile plays on his lips. “And whatever anyone else thinks is irrelevant. It’s the opinions of those who care about you the most that matter.” I tell him as I smile to myself, picturing my Aunt telling me just days before I was taken.

“Are they your family?” Bucky asks and I nod. “Interesting family.” He mutters and I laugh quietly.

“You could say that again,” I mutter to myself. “but after everything, they’ve been there for me. Even if I didn’t want to be at first.”

“Trust me,” Bucky scoffs. “I know the feeling.”

Slowly Bucky stops in front of a large white door with a silver frame. He places his hand on the door and it opens before us. “This me?” I question and he nods softly. “Now what?”

Bucky leans against the door frame as I walk into the most normal looking apartment I’ve seen in years. An actual sink, a sofa that isn’t made out of old wires and a floor that doesn’t hum from an engine.

As I lift my head I watch his smile grow. “I guess you can relax until Tony calls for you, FRIDAY will notify you.” I nod, barely able to focus as I close my eyes and sit down on the ground, smiling at the quiet, something I haven’t had in a lifetime. “I’ll leave you to it, doll.”

“Wait,” Standing up I watch as he turns back to face me. “would you mind keeping me company? I’m not good on my own it,” I sigh quietly. “brings back certain memories I’d rather not resurface.”

“Course,” He walks in, closing the door behind him. “anything for you, Y/n.”

taglist (thank you for the endless support)

@iheartsebastianstan @vgirl10123 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @hour-to-hourglass

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years ago

Text

Summary: Sarah didn’t know she was going to get married, but now she has a wife from a bitter country and a palace that no longer feels so friendly as her coronation approaches.

Warnings: Smut, Mild Violence, Implied Past Abuse

(1/13)

Sarah finds out about it exactly six days, three hours, nine minutes, and thirty seven seconds ahead of time. She’s just enjoying her breakfast and looking over an unusually busy schedule for the day when her father clears his throat across the table.

“I’m dying,” he tells her.

“I’m aware.”

“You need to get married before you ascend to the throne.”

That part she doesn’t even deign to respond to. They’ve argued about this since she was old enough to conceptualize marriage. Some arrogant, irritating man with a heart of greed and a mildly favorable position in another court will be chosen for her. They’ll marry. They’ll have kids whether she wants them or not, as she was so unkindly told when she bled for the first time and cried to one of the maids because she thought she was dying.

“Sarah.”

“Father.”

“I’ve arranged for your nuptials.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“You’ll be married on Sunday.”

“No.”

She stabs a bite of her omelette rather viciously with a fork, and after a long moment of consideration, doesn’t bother to eat it. The conversation has sent her stomach rattling with butterflies, and for all she’s worth, she can’t shake a mixture of nausea and terror at the mere thought of a wedding, let alone one orchestrated by her father. She knows what sort of man he is. What he did to his first wife. Her mother. His third wife. His string of mistresses, here and there. Who’s to say the husband he has chosen for her will not be the same?

The first thing on her schedule is a dress fitting. She assumed it would be another for her coronation dress, the royal colors stitched together in the finest silks from kingdoms abroad and perfectly tailored to her, held for now by safety pins on the back because eventually, she will be hand-stitched into it by Natalie’s careful and gifted fingers. Natalie’s mother before her made Sarah’s mother’s wedding dress and all her ceremonial gowns. The gift, the talent was passed from mother to child. Sarah doesn’t know much about her own mother outside what’s on the photos lining walls and newspaper clippings that spoke of a great and noble woman from the court.

But this will be a wedding dress, and when she walks into the fitting chamber, Natalie has a spread of fabrics draped across the tables pushed against each wall. Some are a crisper white, others tinted a pale snowing blue, others falling toward a tawny cream. Fabric choices for the dress. Natalie herself sits on a stool finishing up a sketch.

“This is all we’ll be working on this week, the coronation dress is going to have to be on hold,” Natalie says. She sounds a little panicked. “I’ve narrowed it down to three designs already, and then we’ll choose a fabric and I’ll make a quick muslin to make sure you like it.”

“Did you know?”

Her lips pull into a sympathetic frown. “I just found out an hour ago. I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Just show me the designs.”

The three thumbnails are all on the same page. One is mermaid style, Sarah recognizes that much. The next has a straight, but not form-fitting or puffy skirt that seems to be more conservative and catered to what her father would want her to wear. And there’s one with long sleeves and a mildly flared skirt, drawn with a slit up the center that reveals what appear to be pants as opposed to the plainly exposed feeling that skirts often leave her with. And it reminds her of something her mother would wear when walking among the people in old reports.

“I like this one.”

“I thought you would.” Natalie turns to a new page and marks it with her pencil before standing up and reaching for the thin muslin to get a thought on shaping. Tighter on the bodice, flaring at the waist. The pants look in the sketch to be more like leggings, or tights, so that’s something that will probably be a separate piece from the rest. Sarah’s not certain, she doesn’t know much about clothes. “Arms out.”

The fabric wraps around her waist and cinches tight before being fit with pins to make sure it’s proper. Sarah can’t breathe, but it’ll be slightly better once she doesn’t have this gown in between. Another of Natalie’s creations. She’ll likely be stuffed into a corset, too, and that’ll come into play during fittings later on. An assistant comes in to start pinning long sleeves. Another starts on her skirt. There isn’t time to leave this to just Natalie, no matter her talent, because they’ve been given less than a week’s notice about what will become of her.

“Warm, cool, or neutral white?”

“What will the groom be wearing?”

“Something traditional from his country, probably.” Natalie loosens the fabric right beneath her shoulder blades. “Rumor has it he’s from Jenia, so we’re expecting red.”

“Fertility and passion.”

“Something like that.”

Sarah hums and decides she wants a cool toned white. Maybe even a pale blue or mint, a subtle expression of her displeasure at this whole affair. Marriage. She’d rather die, if she had any idea what would happen to the kingdom in her absence. Any other successor her father could think of naming would destroy them.

“I want something green. Dark, actually. Think forest.”

“The king-”

“Isn’t getting married,” Sarah says firmly. “If I have to do this, I’ll do it my way, and I’m not going to wear white. He should be happy I don’t dress for mourning.”

“I’ll send someone for fabric.”

Natalie comes around to her front and pins the muslin around her chest before taking her pen and marking out a seam allowance and a line to throw a gathering stitch to better accentuate her body. It’s just for this awful wedding.

“I’ll have the muslin and final sketch done by dinner, if you want to come by this evening to look over everything before I start the real thing. And I’ll have fabric by then, too.”

“Yeah.”

She spends the next half hour getting fitted before she’s off, leaving a kiss to Natalie’s cheek and a handful of bills in her palm to make up the difference between a meager seamstress’ salary and the expenses of a single mother trying to do right by her young son. There had been a time it was refused, but now, Natalie knows that Sarah won’t take no for an answer, and this is worth it. Owen is a happy kid in daycare, much more so than perpetually playing by himself in a pen or crib at the corner of the room. It’s good for both of them.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Natalie smiles one last time as Sarah steps out and there’s a guard at her side to accompany her into town. Some fountain she’s dedicating in her last few weeks as a figurehead before someone else has to take her place. Freedom, fresh air, might help her with this stifled feeling rising in her chest and making her want to scream for any kind of release from this. At least it’s Ethan. He’s nice to her, makes her feel safe no matter what. And he’s polite to her, really, unlike some of the others. He doesn’t make comments about the way she looks, and he keeps a respectful touch when he must make contact. Gloved hand on her inner elbow to escort her, endlessly gentle when he pushes her behind him in a moment of danger. She trusts him.

“Apparently I’m getting married.”

“I’ve heard. Your father made the official announcement broadcast this morning. Apparently invitations were sent out a month ago.”

He waited so long to tell her. Sarah fucking hates her father and his underhanded manipulation to force her into what he wants. It’s too late to back out, however, and so she has to go along with it as much as possible. Once she’s queen, she’ll be able to find some way out of it.

“Your betrothed arrives on Friday night,” Ethan says, helping Sarah step up into the car. “I’m supposed to go to Jenia in the morning as part of the escort. A gesture of goodwill, I suppose.”

“You’ll be gone for all the planning? I can’t do this on my own, I-”

“You’ll be just fine, your highness.”

He shuts her door and comes around to the other side, slipping in just before the engine purrs to life and they’re off to the new fountain. Say some pre-prepared speech that someone else wrote for her about what it means for the country and the people. Cut a ribbon. Take a few photos. Kiss a baby. She hates the meaningless press jobs like this, but someone has to do them, and right now, that’s her. She’s been trained since birth to rule, but her control freak father won’t give her the slightest bit of influence. She’s just a pretty face for PR.

And as she winds up standing in bright sunlight, overheating in heavy fabric and reading off a fucking prompter for the cameras, she wishes that she could leave all this behind and be an actual ruler. Take care of her people instead of waste her time on all this petty shit.

By the time she gets home, she’s exhausted and her cheeks ache from false smiles, but she still has hours of responsibilities to fulfill.

@bipeteypie @one-chicago-hell @bookreader525 @sarahreeese @sextonsharpwinhalstead @isthiswhatshameis @jorgerules

#reesker #chicago med #sarah reese #ethan choi #mine #hlo!fic #fic

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fraybaness · 5 years ago

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never let go

ao3

aka: i wrote the 3x12-3x13 reunions myself because canon was underwhelming

At first it’s just a glimpse of portal-wind-blown red hair and trembling arms and she’s so close - so within reach - that Luke begins to wonder if it was too good to be true after all.

Then she turns to them and their drawn weapons and screams, “ don’t shoot! ” and the world collapses around Luke. Collapses so it can build itself up again, the right way this time. Collapses so she can fix it.

His body is tense, like it is before he transforms, and he feels such intense relief that he thinks he might collapse - or actually turn - because she’s here , and she’s alive , and she hasn’t left him yet.

Clary screams as the blade rips into her her flesh, making Luke jolt out of his trance and focus on the mission again. Jonathan (and dear god, that’s Jonathan? That’s Jocelyn’s little boy?) yells something and activates his speed rune as he runs away. Alec and Jace chase after him, but they all know it’s useless: he’s faster than they are, they don’t know where he’s going, and they can’t hurt him without hurting Clary.

Clary looks up, blinking tears of pain from her eyes, and looks right at Luke. Relief floods her face and she smiles at him for a moment before she looks away again to pull the knife out of her leg with a pained grunt.

Next thing he knows, he’s at her side, holding her under the arms to support her weight on her uninjured leg. Jace calls his name and tosses him something. Luke catches it - a stele. He hands it to Clary to activate her healing rune with. He watches the pain disappear from her face, slowly but surely. She blinks blearily up at him like she can’t quite believe he’s here.

And even though he never once doubted that she was alive and waiting for him to find her, Luke knows exactly how she feels.

“Luke-” Clary starts, but is instantly cut off by him pulling her into the biggest hug he’s ever given another person, her words getting muffled into his shoulder.

It takes her a moment to shake off the shock and hug him back. But when she does, it’s like she never wants to let go. It’s an awkward angle for a hug, half-kneeling with Clary’s leg still soaked in blood and Luke shaking all over, but he wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world, and he doubts she would, either.

He begins to speak, voice trembling from the onslaught of emotions. “I thought I’d lost you.” And he had - for only a few brief, horrible hours that felt like a lifetime before he decided, no, she’s not dead, she can’t be dead, I’m going to get her back , he had thought he would never see her again. “I was so scared something had happened to you…”

“I’m sorry,” she gasps into the hug, tightening her hold on him. She sounds close to tears.

God, Luke thinks, she must have been so scared.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, and realizes he’s actually crying. “You did nothing wrong. But please- don’t leave me again.”

He feels her nod against him and wraps his arms even tighter around her. He doesn’t want to let go. If he does, she’ll slip out of his grasp again. She’ll go away again. She’ll get hurt again.

“Luke?” Clary laughs lightly into his shirt. “I kinda can’t breathe.”

I couldn’t breathe when you weren’t there, he thinks. But he says, “Sorry, kiddo,” and slowly loosens his grip and lets her pull away.

His place in her embrace is replaced by Jace, who’s laughing almost giddily, tears streaming down his face, before she’s even registered that he’s there.

“Jace?” she mutters, then throws her arms around his neck and says his name again, more softly. He pulls back to cup her face with both hands.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Jace says. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding you.”

She smiles at him. “I’m here,” she assures him. “And you are.”

“Clary,” his voice cracks. “Clary, I am so sorry. About everything. I-”

That’s when she steps back, breaks the hug. “Not now,” she says. Her voice is kind, but strained. “We can talk later, okay?”

The Paris Institute gives Clary a change of clothes and provides a portal for them back to New York. They don’t ask Clary a lot of questions about the dead Shadowhunter, and she appreciates it. Right now, she just wants to get home and sleep and forget all of this for just a little while.

She’s confronted with the rune in the mirror as she’s changing and is reminded that that’s not going to be possible.

She meets Alec in the room the portal’s supposed to open up in.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says. He looks tired, but smiles at her anyway. “I should’ve known you couldn’t be that easy to kill.”

Clary laughs. “Guess you’re gonna have to get used to me,” she shoots back lightly.

“I guess there are worse things in the world.”

A moment passes, and Alec’s smile disappears. Clary immediately fears the worst - no one has told her what happened after Lilith’s banishment yet. If Alec looks happy to see her, that means Izzy and Magnus are okay. But Simon-

The last time she saw him he was being flung out of a penthouse. Only because he agreed to go through with her plan. If anything’s happened to him…

“What’s wrong?” she asks Alec before she can picture any of the horrible things that could have happened to Simon.

“I texted the others to meet us at the Institute. Simon and Izzy don’t know you’re…you know, alive, yet.”

Clary didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing at the thought of Simon being hurt, but she’s thankful to have oxygen back in her lungs again.

“But, listen,” Alec goes on. “It’s Magnus.”

And she’s not breathing again.

“He’s lost his magic. So just don’t bring it up.”

“Oh my god, how-?”

They’re interrupted by Luke and Jace’s arrival, followed by the Parisian warlock whose portal they’re using. Luke takes her hand and, as soon as the portal opens, they step through it together.

“Magnus!”

At the sound of Alec’s cheery voice, Magnus halts his nervous pacing in the Institute’s hall and turns towards him.

“Look who’s here,” Alec says. But he doesn’t need to say anything. Magnus couldn’t miss her if he tried. Not with the way she bounds in, alive and well, red hair flying behind her with her quick, happy steps.

He thinks of her at six years old, with wide eyes and trembling lips. At eleven, with a long ponytail and paint under her fingernails. At thirteen, sketching on his couch while he and Jocelyn argued in hushed voices in the kitchen. Sixteen, asking a thousand questions and making him feel worse and worse about taking her memories with each one.

Eighteen, a rune on her neck and a sword in her hand, promising him that they can do this, that everything will be okay.

He was right to believe her.

“Hi!” she greets with a bright smile. Magnus doesn’t respond - just engulfs her in a hug so tight and sudden that the breath gets knocked out of her. Clary laughs at the suddenness of it. “Yeah,” she says softly, rising on her tiptoes to hug him back as best as she can. “I missed you, too.”

Magnus swallows around the lump in his throat before pulling back to look at her - really just look at her for a moment. She looks a little pale and disheveled, but that’s probably nothing out of the ordinary. He’s probably just noticing it more because he’s worried about what’s happened to her in the week ( has it really only been a week? ) she’s been gone. Allegedly dead .

But she’s not dead. She’s alive and he’s holding her and she’s clutching his arms like she knows how badly he needs to feel the pressure against his cold skin. It makes him forget about how crazy everything is and how little time he has left for a moment.

“I more than just ‘missed you’, biscuit,” Magnus says. “What happened? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Clary shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s a long story. I’m magically linked to my evil brother and I stabbed myself in the leg, but all’s well that ends well, right?”

“I’m…going to need more detail on some of that.”

“Honestly, me too.”

They share a short laugh just before they’re interrupted by-

“Clary?”

It’s Simon, frozen at the other end of the room, trying to decide if he should believe his eyes or not. Jace nods and Simon starts to run . Magnus swiftly but reluctantly lets go of Clary to step out of his way.

Simon skids to a halt in front of her, looking her up and down before pulling her into his arms. When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with tears. “Am I dreaming?” he asks.

“No,” Clary promises.

“I’m not?”

“No.”

Magnus watches with a smile on his face and Alec’s hand on his shoulder as Clary laughs when Simon picks her up in his arms and spins her around. Isabelle walks up to them, a disbelieving smile on her face, and almost shoves Simon in her eagerness to hold Clary herself.

Magnus’ eyes drift to Luke to find him looking truly alive for the first time since Clary was arrested in Idris. Magnus doesn’t know exactly how Luke must be feeling - all the pain and denial and hope and relief he must have experienced in such a short time - but he knows what it’s like to lose the people you love. It feels like having a piece of your heart ripped out of you, again and again every time you remember they’re gone.

He turns back to Clary.

He’s never gotten a piece back before.

#fix-it #canon divergence #c: clary #c: luke #c: magnus #c: alec #c: jace #c: simon #c: izzy #r: clary x luke #r: fraybane #r: clace #r: fraywood #r: climon

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maeveekitten · 6 years ago

Text

Butterfly AU, Chapter Two: Discoveries

I finished the second chapter. I’m not sure if anyone is reading this, but I have a lot more to write, so I’m going to continue posting it. I don’t feel like this chapter is quite a good as the last one, but it’s still pretty good.

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Beastie had been trying to learn how to write. He had barely been in the world for three days, and he was already concerned by the way Joey had been acting. At first, Joey had been treating Beastie kindly, and Beastie felt like things weren’t going to go south, but that changed almost as soon as it began. Joey had begun muttering to himself on the second day, and getting distant. It was the third day, and Beastie was worried. Joey had been fidgeting with some key frames of Bendy and staring at Beastie the whole morning, and Beastie felt the emotions of the room going strange the entire time.

Beastie picked up a pen and a piece of paper. Joey began to stare at him curiously as Beastie tried to write words on the paper. Beastie vaguely knew the meanings of words when he heard or read them, but his vocabulary on paper was lacking. His handwriting wasn’t too good either.

After Beastie struggled to write for a solid minute, it finally seemed to click for Joey what he was trying to do. At that point, Joey took out his own piece of paper and made a quick sketch. When Joey started to walk over to the machine, Beastie felt a slight tingle of panic up his spine, but he opted to ignore it. After Joey ran the machine he handed Beastie what he had created. It was a simple book on the alphabet, the kind you would give to a child. Beastie almost immediately started to read the book, and Joey smirked, in the way you would if you were trying to hide how happy you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a couple days after Beastie had started learning how to write properly, and he had been learning quickly. He had already figured out how to write coherent phrases with the help of the alphabet book and a dictionary that Joey had brought from home.

Beastie awoke to the sound of the ink machine running. He felt uncomfortable for a brief while, before Joey walked over to him and handed him something. It was a small notebook with a fabric loop holding a pen. Beastie opened the notebook, only to find all the pages were blank. Beastie looked up at Joey, confused.

“Since you can’t talk, you can only communicate by writing,” said Joey “I figured the notebook would be easier for you to carry around instead of loose sheets of paper, just in case you needed to communicate with someone.”

Beastie flipped the notebook open to the first page and scrawled on the words thank you before showing it to Joey. Joey smirked. Beastie then turned the page and wrote out something that had been on his mind over the last few days.

You can’t make Bendy using the machine

Joey looked concerned when Beastie showed him this

“Why not?”

The form already belongs to someone

Joey looked shocked, then confused. He wandered over to his desk and started muttering to himself again. Despite this, Beastie felt like he had done the right thing. That being said, he was a little scared when Joey turned to look at him.

“If the form already belongs to someone, where could I find them?”

Beastie thought for a while about the question, before writing

I don’t know, but I can look.

Joey then thought about the response and replied

“If you do, let me know,”

Beastie felt another buzz of rightness run through the room, whatever had just happened, it had made the disturbances in the emotion disappear for a short while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beastie had been trying his best to find where the person who Bendys form belonged to was, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. He felt that this was partially due to the fact that he could only explore in Joeys office, and partially due to the reason that he was afraid to touch anything in said office because he didn’t want to get ink on anything.

Joey had just gone home for the night, and Beastie had taken this opportunity to examine the stuff on Joey desk. There was almost nothing special on the desk except for the drawings that were attempts at making Beastie a new form. Beastie picked up one of the drawings, and felt a hum of discomfort speed down his spine. He quickly dropped the drawing and the feeling stopped. Beastie quickly turned on the lights, he wasn’t supposed to, but he felt safer with the lights on. Beastie then had a strange idea, what if any of the other drawings felt different? He decided that the only way to figure it out was to test it, so he went back to Joey’s desk, neglecting to turn the lights back off beforehand.

Beastie had tested about five drawings to similar effects before he stopped. He then just sat, trying to dispel the residual buzz of unease that was humming up his spine, while he tried to decide if he wanted to try any more drawings. He was also feeling uncomfortable about the lights. He liked having them on, but he knew Joey would yell at him if he found out about it.

Beasties thoughts were cut short by a knocking at the door. Since there was knocking, that meant it was one of the other employees, Joey never knocked on his own office door. Since it wasn’t Joey, Beastie knew he needed to hide, he tried to quickly duck into the corner that had been prepared specifically for that purpose, but his foot slipped underneath him, causing him to fall. Out of ideas, Beastie made himself as small as possible and hoped whoever was coming in wouldn’t notice him on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally was silently having a panic attack. He had lost his keys early that morning, and had been trying to find them all day. He had looked everywhere in the studio, he knew his keys were in the studio, he had used them to unlock his closet, but they were nowhere to be found. Worst of all, he had to carry his mop around with him all day, and his arm was getting tired. Actually, scratch that, the worst thing was that his keys were almost defiantly in Joey’s office, and the lights were a clear sign that he had miscalculated when Joey would be leaving, and that he would need to confess to losing his keys for the third time that week. This would definitely dock him enough bad-employee points to get him outta there, for sure. Wally had already come to terms with being one of the most expendable workers in the last job he was fired from, but when else was he going to get the opportunity to work at an animation studio? Wally nervously knocked on the door, mentally edging himself to get it over with.

Wally waited 30 seconds with no response; maybe Joey had fallen asleep at his desk, or forgotten to turn his lights off. It could happen, anything was a possibility. Whatever was going on, Wally’s hopes were back up for going a day without Joey finding out about him losing his keys. He carefully opened the door, trying to enter the room as quietly as possible. Just get in, find the keys, and get out. Wally entered the office and immediately spotted his keys in the trashcan, thank goodness Joey hadn’t noticed. And, best of all, Joey himself was nowhere to be seen! Wally sauntered over to pick up his keys, internally humming about his lucky break. Then he saw the lump on the floor, and his entire mood flipped.

Wally wasn’t inexperienced with dealing with live things; he had had just enough of a time with rats in one of his previous jobs to know exactly how much he hoped that whatever was on the floor wasn’t a rat. If he had to deal with an infestation of rats, or anything else for that matter, then maybe getting fired wasn’t so bad. Wally slowly slipped his keys into his pocket, making notes on the unknown floor-creature as he went. It was definitely alive, and cowering, which meant that it was probably the kind of creature that could be spooked by a loud noise and made to run away. It was also a bit too large to be a rat. Wally was now thinking that it might be a stray cat that had wandered into the studio somehow, which would also explain the white that was mixed in with the black. He felt his nerves loosen a little bit; cats were much less likely to swarm than rats. He inched closer to the assumed-cat, ready to shoo it out with his mop, easier to deal with it now than wait until tomorrow.

When Wally poked the lump, it became quite clear that what he was dealing with wasn’t a cat. Wally wasn’t really sure what it was, but cats were not generally bipeds. Most animals weren’t bipeds, except birds, and this wasn’t a bird. Whatever it was, Wally was certain that he didn’t want to deal with it; he wanted to be in a different room than it observing it behind a window or something for at least a week before he would even consider himself even remotely ready to deal with it. But that wasn’t an option, since he had just poked it with a mop, causing it to jump back to the far wall of the office. Wally had responded to this response by retreating to the opposite wall, while silently praying that whatever it was wasn’t dangerous. When he looked at it, he could tell it was made out of some kind of liquid, he was guessing ink by the color, and that it had a strained grin on its face. Actually, the more Wally looked at it, it kind of looked like Bendy, if someone had tried to draw Bendy while drunk, and then decided to scribble out the entirety of the drawings upper face. Wally then proceeded to stop observing whatever-it-was, and start trying to get out of the room, maybe he could just leave and go about his life like this had never happened. His escape plans were somewhat halted by the fact that he had somehow managed to end up on the wall opposite to the door, but the creature now seemed distracted, scanning the floor in a panicked fashion, so it would probably be easy to sneak past it… the creature found what it had been looking for, and sprinted across the floor towards it, causing Wally to press himself farther against the wall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beastie had been completely caught off guard by the stranger who had entered the office. At first it seemed like he had gotten away with everything without being spotted, and then the stranger hat poked him with the mop he had been carrying. This had caused a very drawn out exchange of terror. Beastie decided that the best thing he could do would be to explain everything, then he might be able to convince the stranger to not tell Joey about the lights. He quickly scrambled for his notebook, which he had dropped when he had tripped.

Beastie quickly wrote in his notebook

Please don’t tell Joey!!!

The stranger quickly glanced down at the notebook, and then whimpered

“About what?!?!”

Beastie responded

I’m not supposed to have the lights on, I knew I wasn’t, but I got scared and turned them on anyway. The last time I turned on the lights when Joey was out he yelled at me. I don’t want Joey to yell at me again, it’s scary!!!

Beastie was getting worked up, and the ink on his face was starting to drip on the floor. The stranger was slowly inching away from his position on the wall, seemingly gaining confidence.

“Oh… I’m fine with that. I’ve gotten into trouble with Joey before; he really can be scary when he’s mad,”

Beastie was now too worked up to write anymore, he was barely holding himself together at this point, he was afraid that the form he was currently holding would collapse, and then who knew what he’d reform as?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally was no longer fully convinced that he was still awake. The creature had picked up a notebook, and then proceeded to write fluent English. They had been having a tense conversation, before the creature stopped writing. It was now trembling, making soft noises that could be approximated to sobs. Wally was now almost certain that this wasn’t an animal, it was clearly sentient.

Wally wasn’t really sure what to do. He was almost certain he was dreaming, but he felt like if he was dreaming he would have felt different after realizing it. Instead, he was still in the office, feet still firmly rooted to the floor, and the strange creature seemed like it was having a panic attack. He was fully capable of leaving, but a nagging part of his brain wanted to understand what exactly was going on.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not even supposed to be in here,”

The creature remained rooted to the spot, but it stopped sobbing so loudly

“I lost my keys today, I’m not supposed to do that, and I was worried that if joey found out, that he’d make me leave,”

The creature seemed to regain some stability over its emotions. It shakily scribbled on its notepad

Joeys Scary w hen hes mad..

Wally chuckled a little, the creature was a lot less frightening when he knew a bit more about it and was certain it wasn’t trying to kill him.

“Yeah, why do you think I was lurking around here at this hour? It’s not like I have an excess of sleep in my life,”

The creature let out a gargley laugh, and wrote down

He’s nice when he tries.

Wally looked at this message for a little bit. He had thought he was the only one who was scared of Joey

The creature looked curiously at Wally, and then wrote

My name’s Beastie

“Oh, well my name’s Wally, nice to meet you!”

Wally wasn’t sure why, but knowing that Beastie had a name made him feel a lot safer.

“So, Beastie, how did you end up… here?”

Beastie pointed at a strange machine in the corner of the room, which Wally was surprised he hadn’t noticed sooner, and wrote

That made me, it gave me my form. I was supposed to be Bendy, but that didn’t work, so Joey’s trying to help me get a better form

Wally was somewhat confused, that explained why Beastie looked a little like Bendy, but it still left some questions unanswered

“Better how, exactly?”

This form feels wrong, and bad. Joey is trying to make me a proper toon form, so I don’t scare him as much. I assume that form will feel a lot better.

Wally thought about that response, he got the distinct feeling that this was none of his business, but he was getting a little intrigued about the whole matter

“Well, if our exchange earlier means anything, I’m sure it won’t be too hard for you to be a toon,” Wally said, deciding to briefly change the subject “that could have easily been scripted into an episode.”

Beasties grin suddenly became a lot more sincere

Really?!?

“Yeah, definitely!”

Beastie seemed to think for a little bit, before writing

I think that there’s and actual Bendy out there somewhere and I’m supposed to be looking for him. Could you help me look?

Wally was a bit taken back by the sudden request, but he honestly felt a little flattered that Beastie was so quick to trust him.

“I guess, but I really need to put my mop away and get home, what if I came back tomorrow?”

Beastie thought about that, and responded

Ok! But we should probably tell Joey, so we can interact earlier

“Ok, I’ll be heading out then, see you tomorrow!”

Wally was about to leave, before he felt a slight tug on the leg of his pants. He looked down to see Beastie, who handed him a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn out of the notebook. The paper had the words don’t forget written on it, and Wally tucked it into his pocket. He figured that it would be a surefire way to check to see if this interaction was a dream in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joey arrived at work feeling on edge. He had been having the feeling that he had seen Beasties exact limp before, and last night he had finally identified it. That was the same limp that his grandfather had before he was confined to a wheelchair, that was the same limp that his father was showing signs of when he berated Joey for his pursuit of an artistic career, that was the limp that was getting Joey concerned about the feelings of instability in his own legs. Needless to say, Joey wasn’t entirely in the right headspace for work, and the fact that Beastie kept anxiously checking the door wasn’t helping.

Joey had muddled his way through a small portion of the day’s work, less than was usual for him, when someone knocked on the door

“One second.” stated Joey, gesturing for Beastie to hide in his corner

Beastie briefly looked like he was going to defy the gesture and stay where he was in the room, but he quickly changed his attitude and went to hide.

“Come in.”

Joey was barely surprised when his unexpected guest turned out to be Wally, this would not be the first time that the janitor had come in to ask the whereabouts of an item essential to his job.

“So, Joey, sorry for dropping in uninvited, but I have something I wanted to tell you…”

“What is it this time Wally?” sighed Joey “did you lose your keys again?”

“What! No, no, I definitely didn’t lose my keys, of course not!”

“Well, what is it this time?”

Wally paused briefly, and seemed to be considering his words, before responding

“So, I came to work early today. You know, to pick up the trash and whatnot before everyone else showed up. So, when I came into here, to get the trash of course, no other reason…”

Joey felt a jolt of panic run down his back, there were very few reasons for Wally to bring up entering his office, and nothing in the room appeared to be broken.

“You saw something, didn’t you? You came into my office, and you saw something strange.”

“I, suppose you could say that…”

“You didn’t tell anyone about it, did you? I’m the first person you’re telling. Please tell me I’m the first person you’re telling”

Wally seemed startled by Joeys change in personality, but he still replied

“Yes? It’s your office.”

Joey sighed in relief. If word had gotten out…

“Please don’t tell anyone else about what you saw here. It’s not ready for the public yet”

“What, you mean Beastie?”

Joey then lost all composure. He had not told anyone about Beastie. He was unaware of Wally meeting Beastie until this morning. This meant that Wally had to have gotten the information about Beasties name directly from Beastie, which would mean that he would have had to talked to Beastie.

“Please give me a minute.”

Joey hurried out of the room, and locked himself in one of the bathrooms. He had had too much revelations for this early in the morning, and really needed to let his mind stew before his personality slipped more than it already had. He had already dented his prefect image by panicking; he couldn’t afford to lose any more. It was a small mercy that Wally had seemed more afraid of Joey than he was of Beastie, but that opened an entire other can of worms for Joey, was he really that intimidating to his employees?

When Joey finally regained his composure enough to return to his office, Wally and Beastie were having a conversation. It didn’t seem like they were talking about anything important, but Joey was still in a position to be suspicious of everything

“What are you two talking about?”

Beastie looked at Joey and wrote

Stuff

“What kind of stuff?”

I asked for Wally’s help in my search, since he can leave the office and I can’t

“Well, why didn’t you ask me for help?”

You were busy

“Ah.”

Joey returned to his desk, he felt slightly insulted that Beastie had trusted Wally more than him. After all, he had created Beastie, didn’t that count for anything? But Joey kept those thoughts to himself, there must have been some reason for his lack of trust, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out what.

“So, Joey,” stated Wally, breaking the light silence that had settled over the room “You wouldn’t happen to have any leads, would you?”

“Leads on what?” asked Joey

“The search?”

Joey thought about this, he hadn’t actually considered helping in the search for Bendy until today, but the subject of him joining in had brought to mind the drawer in his desk. In his spare time, he had been trying to flesh out of his cartoons, before he had gotten involved in the whole matter of making real toon objects, and it had occurred to him that the world Bendy lived in would be a good place to look for Bendy. Joey quietly opened his drawer and took out a couple of the papers that were stored in it

“I suppose this would be a good place to check,”

Joey quietly divided the papers between the three people in the room, and they all began to leaf through them. Joey was on the fifth page of random facts when Wally piped up

“Would this help?”

He was holding up a map, a made up map. None of the places shown in the map existed in real life. Joey recalled making it when he was having trouble coming up for locations for episodes, meaning that the map was vaguely the reason for him beginning his world building phase.

“I don’t see how, it’s not like we could follow it, it’s just a visual representation of the locations in the show,”

Joey was interrupted by Beastie making a noise, presumably to draw attention to himself. When Joey looked at him, he was holding his notebook, with a message written on it

What if you put it through the machine?

Joey thought, and then responded “well, I’m assuming than an entire world is a lot more than I could contain in the studio, and I don’t really want any of this to get out…”

Beastie then rose his hand in a clear request for silence, and then wrote

I don’t think that it would take enough ink to make an entire world; Beastie paused, thought for a little bit, and then continued I assume it would only really take as much ink as you would need to make a doorway.

“But, what if it doesn’t!” rebuked Joey “that could be a disaster, there could be a flood!”

Beastie took the map from Wally and fidgeted with it briefly, then handed it to Joey

The world is already made; you just need a way through.

Joey looked at the map, then at Beastie, then at the machine. He then turned to Wally and said

“Get a bucket, a large one.”

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #butterfly AU

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vivalaegghead · 7 years ago

Note

Aijah 53 :)

Thank you so much for sending this prompt in! I love fleshing out Aijah more through these prompts.

53: A kiss against a wall

The warmth of the tavern made it easy to forget the deadly bite of thecold winter wind that ripped mercilessly at the shingles. Perhaps the steinsbrimming with alcohol helped, but Aijah swore that the whiskey hitting the backof her throat only moderately staved the cold. The slender elf had never sippedmuch more than wine, but Varric’s persistent offerings of the liquor finallypersuaded her to take a sip. Maybe another, then another. She was never thiscareless with herself, and the voice of reason at the pit of her brain scoldedher for chugging down the liquor, but she couldn’t get over the sensation. Thewhiskey burned her lips, her throat, kept her stomach warm, and numbed her tothe reality that they had all just endured.

The Inquisition had just faced the revival of an Old God,or something along those lines. The facts were still unclear to Aijah, and thealcohol surely wasn’t aiding in her processing, but that’s exactly what shewanted. She needed to forget the strange odor of burning materials, needed toforget the chilling screech of the archdemon, needed to forget the pain thatcontinued to sear through her arm from Corypheus’ botched attempt at removingthe mark. She needed Varric to keep pouring her shots of whiskey, because shefound her escape at the bottom of each glass.

“Shit, Stripes. Don’tyou think you should slow down?” Varric’s voice had become gruffer under thealcoholic spell that had settled over the table. Aijah hadn’t noticed that herposture had failed her and that she was leaning almost completely out of herseat. A limp hand brushed the white fringe from her pale eyes, a sheepish smiletried to say what her numbed tongue couldn’t. A rowdy burst of laughter escapedVarric as he motioned to replenish her empty stein once more.

“Perhaps the Inquisitorhas had enough?” A smooth voice rolled across the table and helped loosen theknot that had formed in Aijah’s gut. The stained table where they had allgathered was packed with bodies, and Aijah’s eyes roamed over each persondrearily, trying to find the source of voice that calmed the buzzing in thebase of her brain. Not the Qunari, not the Tevinter. The Apostate. He hadpositioned himself at the end of the table, separating himself as much as hecould from the bulk of individuals that crowded around Aijah.

Solas rarely partook in social matters such as this, he often busiedhimself in the rotunda, measuring out paints and sketching on the walls. It wasas if he were entranced by his work, each stroke of his hand seemed calculated,purposeful, and confident. The way his brow furrowed and his teeth gnawedthoughtfully at the fullness of his bottom lip mesmerized Aijah in a way thatshe couldn’t explain. She found that her pace slowed when she walked throughhis sacred area, her pupils would cut to him out of the corner of her eye,trying to discreetly analyze his movements. The others that had joined the Inquisitionwere easy for Aijah to figure out, for she was quick to dissect theirintentions, but she had yet to cut into his.

“Oh c’mon, she knowswhat she’s doing. Look at her, she’s just fine.” The Iron Bull retorted betweenswigs of his drink. At this point, the elf felt as if she were melting to thefloor, her vision was now permanently blurred and her face had become stuck ina strange smirk-like grimace. Solas’ somber eyes refused to break from hers,and the Inquisitor shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. His eyeshad always troubled her, although they were painted warm shades amber theyseemed to hold uncertainty within their orbs. He was a code that shedesperately wanted to crack, whether out of playful curiosity or for some senseof undiscovered sanity, she had yet to decide

“Inquisitor, if youdon’t mind, I’d like to escort you back to your quarters before this nighttakes a turn for the worse.” His voice held its usual stern tone until the end,then it broke off into the soft cadence that was concern. Aijah was finallyable to bring his face into focus, and the Apostate tilted his head as ifpleading for her to surrender. She wasn’t sure if her lips or eyes had told himthat she agreed, that she wanted to leave, but Solas’ slender frame stood upfrom where he was seated, and he proceeded to round the table towards heramidst whistles and suggestive comments.

“Oh I see, elf,” a loudbelch escaped The Iron Bull, “You just want her all to yourself!” He fell intoa vicious fit of laughter, spilling his drink over the table in the process. Solasrefused to address the mocking, and swiftly reached for Aijah’s arm to help herout of her seat. A hairy arm shot out protectively, gripping the curve ofAijah’s arm and preventing Solas from reaching for her.

“No funny business,right Chuckles?” Varric’s voice was low so only the three of them could hear,the words could barely escape his mouth through his gritted teeth.

“I wouldn’t dream ofit.” Solas responded calmly despite the hostility. A moment hovered in the airbetween Varric and Solas, neither saying anything yet neither broke eyecontact. Varric finally released his grip on Aijah’s arm, but his eyes stillrefused to waver from Solas’. “I’m trusting you, Chuckles.”

Solas’ chin dippedrespectfully, and he reached for Aijah once more, helping her stand. TheInquisitor swayed like a newborn Halla on newly discovered legs, her armreached instinctively around Solas’ waist, holding tightly to his woven vest.She had to take a moment to pull herself back to the present, her mind shiftedaimlessly and refused to bring her actions into focus. She blinked severaltimes before her eyes finally listened to her command, although her legs stillfelt as if they were outside of her control. Solas mirrored her actions,wrapping his arm around her thin waist, then reached for her other hand to helpsteady her.

The door to the taverngave way to the bitter wind that had continued to howl throughout the night. Thesharp bite of winter gnawed relentlessly at Aijah’s bare fingertips, bits ofsnow nestled themselves on her clothes and eyelashes, blending in perfectlywith her moon-colored hair. Her frail body gave in to a violent shiver, and shepulled herself closer to Solas’ chest. He smelled of elfroot and herbs, astrange yet calming combination that reminded her of home. His lipsrelinquished a murmur as he cast a barrier around them and the relentless windfinally parted around the invisible bubble that protected them. They’re journeyback to the castle seemed to last for ages, yet Aijah couldn’t help but noticehow tight Solas’ grip had grown around her waist, her pale skin sizzling underhis touch.

The comforting sound ofthe crackling fire helped center Aijah’s mind and she dared to lean closer tothe flames, savoring the warmth and soberness that began to return to herlimbs. The mixture of cold and warmth made quick work of breaking the liquorshold on her, although her brain still felt heavy from the ordeal.

“Inquisitor, pleasedon’t lean so close to the fire.” The closing of a door followed by a concernedremark announced Solas’ appearance. He balanced a dainty teacup on one hand anda platter on the other, and he placed the offerings before the exhausted elf.Steam rolled off the dark liquid that shifted in the white teacup, the teaspewed forth a rich earthy smell that helped comfort the rolling tide of nauseathat beat against Aijah’s insides. Solas seated himself across from her, hisbody returned to the familiar rigidity that it always seemed to take: backerect, jaw set, arms folded across his chest. Although his eyes were soft, andrefused to take in anything besides the ethereal elf that sat before him. Sheshared his gaze before taking in the rest of his offering, a platter stackedwith bread and cheese accompanied the tea. A shaky hand reached for the bread,and she eagerly consumed one, two, three pieces, forgetting to take a breathbetween bites. While she chewed, she noticed Solas’ gaze still burned throughher. She furrowed her brow and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying towiggle out from under his gaze, but her efforts were futile.

“Would you like apiece?” Her words were staggered and spoken with caution, but she needed tobreak the heaviness that had settled between them. A timid hand offered thelast slice of bread to him, his eyes shifted between the dense loaf and theInquisitor before he shook his head.

“No thank you,Inquisitor.” His voice always seemed to be smooth, like an untouched lake.

“Please stop calling methat. My name is Aijah, for Gods sake.” The words escaped her mouth before sherealized the weight they held, and she was taken aback by the venom her ownwords held. She reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze, but his eyes remainedsoft and he had shifted forward to balance his elbows on the table. His headtilted quizzically and his eyes searched her, she wasn’t quite sure but shethought she detected a smile licking at the corner of his lips. He wasdangerously handsome, Aijah couldn’t deny that. The way that he clenched hisjaw and furrowed his brow when he focused on something, the slope of his neckthat led to pronounced collar bones. His presence had the same dizzying effectof liquor, and she concluded that she wanted to be drunk off of him for therest of her life.

“Shall I escort you upto your room, Aijah?” His voice had dropped to a whisper, as if his questioncontained a secret that was resigned for her ears alone. Something deep withinher quivered, a twinge that she had not felt in ages that made her body ache ina new yet pleasing way. She took a swig of the tea, returned it to the daintilypainted plate that it stood on, and then nodded.

The stairs that lead toher bedroom were poorly lit. Aijah trailed he fingers along the stones of thehallway as they ascended, the rock chilled the tips of her fingers. Solasmatched her pace up the stairs, arms folded respectfully behind his back, eyesever so often drifted in her direction. Aijah tried to conjure words to say,but nothing sounded quite right. They were muddied and tangled, but he deservedwords that painted a masterpiece, words that mirrored him. Her insides had tiedthemselves into knots as the words bubbled on the back of her tongue, shefeared that they would begin spilling from her mouth. She was confused at thesource of these feelings, how they crashed powerfully against her insides likea sea that beckoned for her to jump in. Anxious fingers worked at the hem ofher shirt, her cheeks flushed from her internalized embarrassment at these juvenilefeelings. This is some youngling bullshit,she thought with a furrowed brow before halting her pace.

Solas noticed the absenceof her pace, and turned his broad shoulders towards her. “Aijah, is every-“ Sheswallowed his words before he could finish them. She finally tumbled off thecliff her insides had constructed, and she dove into him impulsively. It hadbeen ages since she allowed her heart to act so recklessly, she rarely showedaffection so openly but the surprised gasp that pressed passed his lips intoher mouth followed by the taste of him was enough to convince her that this wasfor the better. Perhaps.

She retreated from him,full yet starving for more. Embarrassment no longer held residence over her,they might be facing the end of the world, for fucks sake. Her orbs found his,and they held his gaze defiantly, taking accountability for her brash action.Solas was unreadable once more, he stood stiffly, his arms suspended at hissides, jaw clenched tightly.

“Well,” Anunexplainable laugh escaped Aijah. “Thank you for bringing me back safe.”

Before she could continueher retreat up the stairs, his hand caught the curve of her arm as he pulledher to him. His hands moved over her body quickly, unsure of themselves, unsureof where to touch first. They were in her moon-colored locks, pulling them awayto reveal Aijah’s cheekbones and faded vallaslin. They moved to her chin, wheretrembling fingers ran the length of her jaw before propping her face up towardshim. Their lips were suspended mere inches from each other and time held itsbreath. Aijah had never seen his composure compromised, Solas had always madethe effort to not falter, and ensured that his every move was calculated. Towitness the crumbling of his walls, of how he acted out of raw instinct, lefther in awe. Her legs trembled from the rush of recklessly falling into him, andshe wondered how much further she could push him until he fell into her.

A soft smirk presseditself in the corner of her mouth, and she moved so that her tongue brushed overthe fullness of his lips. He tasted of mulled wine and untold stories, a tastethat reminded Aijah of the sweetness of first love. A sigh escaped him like alow rumble from a thunderstorm, one that she knew would soon be upon her. Hepulled her close to him and guided her back against the wall, lips findingtheir way down her neck. There was a hunger in the sanctity of his lips, theyburned against her flesh leaving brands of his love behind. His hands foundtheir way to the curve of her spine, he kneaded greedily at her hips, her ass.Soft lips found their way back to hers and she released moans into his mouth asshe savored his familiar taste. Firm hands found their way to her muscularthighs, and he pulled her around him, balancing her against the wall. She feltwarmth between her legs and across her chest and she relinquished herself tothe feeling. He was her moon and she was the tide, she couldn’t help but rollher hips for him, lay herself bare against him. She knew this was foolish, sheknew that entangling herself with another from the Inquisition would lead totainted whispers among the Chantry. But she didn’t care, he was here and hislips reminded her of a home that was long lost to her, and his-

Fuck.

#Aijah Lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solavellan #solas x lavellan #eggy prompts

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batwynn · 7 years ago

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Quick question cuz I've never gotten an answer to this but I feel like you might give one. Do you, as a primarily digital artist, have advice for someone trying to go full digital? I ask because I haven't been able to go full digital, only because I feel like I can't get the hang of sketching with my tablet. The program I use isn't CSPaint, which is what you use if I remember right, but I feel, at a point, some things are universal. So, any Tips for going from paper sketches to digital?

I’ll be honest, I don’t think there’s a problem in not being a ‘full digital’ artist. Some of the best artists out there do their linework or sketch work traditionally and their coloration/linework on the computer. ( @suis0u does this and their work is stunning af)

Buuut, I totally get what you mean. I had a lot of trouble just sketching on the computer at first, and a lot of that was because the programs I was using at the time were really designed for heavy detail work and photo manipulation. (Aaaye photoshop) Truthfully, I got more into sketch work with CSPaint because of the tools designed to work and appear like traditional sketch tools. Things like the pencil tool or some of the softer brushes give you a really good sketchy feel, and it can be really freeing to just... doodle with them.

That being said, a huge difference for me was the tablet I was using. I had a lot more trouble getting into sketching layers on the computer with the Intous tablet than the Cintiq. Something about the disconnect between seeing and doing was a bit of a roadblock for me, at first. It’s been a lot easier for me to sketch with the screen because there’s less of a gap between what my brain is telling my hand to do and visually seeing it happen.

But, I did get into sketching with the Intous in the beginning, so it’s not impossible.

I would suggest starting with some basic anatomy or character design stuff.

Doing some loose sketching of things to get the movement and flow going. It’s hard not to let your brain take over and tell you everything must be clean and sharp because it’s on the computer. You kind of have to trick yourself into allowing your drawings to be more free and loose. Sketch for sketches sake, not for a finished piece. Doodle around a bit, draw something with a million lines and be proud. Have no shame. Draw hands a thousand times and make them messy.

Loosening up is seriously my #1 advice with digital sketching. You can worry about clean lines later, draw some crazy messy stuff now. Have some fun. :)

#drawing #how to sketch #digital art #digital sketching #how to draw #gif warning #flashing gif #gif #sowusgoin

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imaginethewitcher · 7 years ago

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Next one! So Iris is a painter, Dettlaff might be good at building things like toys and stuff. How about they teach their s/o how to do it? Can for Dettlaffs scenario the s/o get frustrated with it quickly pls? Bc I would. xD Oor Iris or the s/o draws Iris or Dettlaff. You can decide!!! xD I hope this is not too confusing

I loved that request! Very good idea for a scenario.God, I wish Iris would show me how to paint properly.

Dettlaff:You stared at the shores before you, sitting in front of the canvas for whatfelt like an eternity. Dettlaff suggested picturing the process of painting inyour mind, but as of now, you’ve drawn merely a few strokes of paint. Yougroaned in frustration.“Shall I help you?”, Dettlaff asked.He leaned against a tree trunk, protected by the dense canopy from the burningsun.“It’s fine”, you grumbled.“Doesn’t look like it”.“Curse this!”, you drew another stroke of paint, which unintentionally mixedwith another colour.Dettlaff held your arm as you indicated to throw the brush away.“My dearest, It would be a shame if you would throw away your work. I can helpyou and you were already off to a good start”, he whispered in a soft voice.“I know, it’s just so frustrating”, you sighed, lowering your arm, “I try againand again, but never feel like I’ve truly accomplished what I wanted to paint,as if it’s merely a plain version of what I actually had in mind”.“That’s not unusual. I had to practise for a long time until I was finally ableto paint properly”.“Well, you don’t have a lack of that”, you smiled cheekily.“I’m glad to see you smiling again. Now we can start working”.“You charmer”, you rolled your eyes, “So, what are your suggestions?”.He examined your painting and the view you tried to portray. So far you onlypainted the basic colours and tried to shade here and there, but the mixedcolours led to a messy result.“You have to mix the colours while they are still wet and try to do it moregentle and not too rash”, he said, demonstrating it on the light blue of thewater by highlighting it with the shining white of the sun.You watched attentively. His hand moved smoothly over the canvas, blending thecolours to a harmonic conformity. It looked so easy when he did it.“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it that way. You are such a skilfulpainter”, you said.“I’m certain you will be able to do it even better than I do. You have toimagine it like a rhythm when you move your hands”, Dettlaff handed the brushover to you, however, you answered it with an insecure look at him.“I help you doing it”, he said, taking your hand and guiding it along the layerof paint, shading the emerald grass.You were always surprised by how soft his hands were and how careful he closedhis around yours.“Do you think you can do it now?”, he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.“I’ll try”, you said out of reflex, though you weren’t sure at all and wantedto feel his hand a little longer.He removed his hand from yours and you continued shading the grass. To yoursurprise, the blending of the green colours worked much better now.“You were right. It really is like a rhythm”, you confirmed.“Looks excellent, you are a quick learner”. You continued painting the gorgeous view of the lake. Suddenly it was much lesstroublesome.

“I’m done! Take a look at it”, you said.Dettlaff stepped next to you and looked at your finished piece of art.“You did wonderful work. The painting captures the naturalistic atmospherevividly”, he gave you a kiss on your cheek.“Thank you! But I wouldn’t have figured it out without your help”.“Not worth mentioning it, you did most of the work by yourself. I just gave youa little help”.“You are too humble”, you noticed how he kept his hands behind his back, “Areyou hiding something from me?”.“While you were concentrated on painting, I made a few sketches of you”, herevealed a piece of paper with several drawings of you, “You had such aninspiring and graceful expression, while you painted. I just couldn’t resist”.“Dettlaff, these are beautiful!”, you were amazed by his artistic skill.“You really think so?”.“I do and I love them”.“You can have them if you want”.“Really? I absolutely do!”, you grinned, “Thank you, for everything”.“You’re welcome”, he smiled, “For you, I’ll do it with pleasure”.You hugged him tightly.

Iris: Iris:It was a warm summer day. Iris and you were inside the pavilion of herbeautiful garden. Iris sat in front of a canvas. Her eyes looked up from thecanvas to you sitting in front of a scenery of fluttering butterflies withdelicate wings, violet hyacinth, which prayed to the sun, and an old mansion inwhich Iris and you lived. She looked up and down, up and down in a steadyrhythm. Her eyes were concentrated on capturing you in form of a painting, withthe paintbrush in one hand and the palette in the other. You sat in a straightposture, your hands folded in your lap.“Please tilt your head slightly”, she said.As you did, she nodded, but her expressions still appeared to be dissatisfied.“Is something wrong? Do I sit in the wrong position?”, you asked.“No, it’s fine, but I have the feeling something is missing”, she explained,“Hm, perhaps you are correct. You appear a little lost, almost as if you aremissing something”.“That’s because you are not on it”, you replied.Iris’ lips formed a blissful smile. You loved seeing her happy, smiling at you.“But how do we change that?”, she chuckled, “I can’t sit next to you when Ipaint a portrait of you and I want this portrait to be of you only, but I willhang it next to mine”.You contemplated a solution to this difficulty. Iris laid her focus on atruthful expression of the ones she paints. Telling her to simply continue inspite of her dissatisfaction would bring you nowhere. So you needed somethingsubtle as a representation of the relationship between the two of you.“A flower”, you said, “Choose your favourite flower in the garden”.“That’s a wonderful idea!”, Iris clapped her hands together, “Stay there. I’llbe back in a few moments”.She walked at a swift, rapid pace to one of the colourful flowerbeds. It mighthave been tempting to take a peek at the portrait, but you wouldn’t dare to.Iris would have noticed it in an instant. So you waited there on your seat,loosening your strained limbs. She returned with a little bouquet of violet forget-me-nots and gave them toyou.“These are so pretty!”, you marvelled at the flawless flowers, “But I have towonder why you chose those flowers? They mostly have a meaningful matter orbear a story”.“They are so small and unobtrusive, yet the most beautiful flowers and onlypeople with an eye for what truly lies inside perceive them. They remind me ofhow we first met. I don’t stand out, yet you chose me”.“And it still is the best decision I’ve ever met”, you smiled at her. Yoursmile got returned by her.As she took her seat before the canvas again, her eyes changed to aconcentrated stare.“Yes, now it’s perfect!”, she confirmed.As she painted the last strokes, she hummed a melodious song, like she alwaysdoes when she’s working enthusiastically.“Your portrait is finished”, she said and indicated with a gesture, that younow could look at it.You looked at the portrait, looked at every lovingly painted detail and atevery fine colour.“It is stunning! Your best work yet. I could fall in love with it!”, youexclaimed in delight.“Thank you. I’m glad you like it”, Iris said.“I adore it!”, you specified and rewarded her with a kiss, “Just like I adoreyou”.

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #dettlaff x reader #dettlaff van der eretein x reader #dettlaff imagine #dettlaff #dettlaff van der eretein #iris x reader #iris von everec x reader #iris imagine #iris #iris von everec #reader #swingxilly #it's not that easy and fast to learn painting like dettlaff's s/o does

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