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ikkaku-of-heart · 3 years

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Her Brother's Blood is on His Hands

(Originally written for @heart-pirates-week for Ikkaku’s day with the prompt “Family” but ended up being delayed until now. Inspired by discussions with @shambledsurgeon and @medicus-mortem)

Ikkaku awoke slowly, the persistent beeping of a heart monitor resembling that of a particularly slow but annoying alarm clock. She tried to sit up but a sharp pain in her side dissuaded her, so she was forced to remain on her back, looking around at the sterile walls of the infirmary. She was hooked up to an IV, there were several machines monitoring her vitals, and she could feel the pressure of tightly-wound bandages around her torso and arms.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Law said from the chair at her bedside, putting down the medical book he’d been reading. The circles under his eyes appeared darker than usual, but his grin was comforting and sure. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d have to resort to drastic measures to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

“Law?” she asked weakly, grimacing at how hoarse she sounded due to the dryness of her throat. “The fuck happened?”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” he stated as he carefully helped prop her up enough that she could safely drink some water. “Do you mean how did you end up here? Maybe the extent of your wounds? Or how about what, exactly, I did to the fucker who hurt you?”

Her eyes widened as she recalled what had happened. She’d been taking a walk with Jean Bart, venting about how much she hated that they were now government dogs because Law’d insisted on handing the Navy one hundred hearts. They’d run into a squad of Marines. Her brother’s squad, to be exact. Ushi had decided it was pointless trying to climb the Navy ranks the normal way, and thus had come up with the idea of sucking up to the Celestial Dragons. And what better way to do so than to return to Saint Rosward his wayward slave?

Heart clenching at the thought of her shipmate being handed back over to those bastards, she asked, “Is Jean—”

“He’s fine. Discharged yesterday,” Law promised, nodding towards the empty bed on the other side of the room. He picked up a chart, studying it as he continued, “Needed a lot of stitches for the lacerations across his back and arms, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief. He hadn’t been killed or taken. Jean Bart would continue to live as a free man for a while longer. He deserved that much.

“Was quite the sight, seeing him charging towards the ship, covered in blood, carrying you like a baby while you bled out from a stab wound,” he commented, voice even, though there was an unmistakable tightness in his jaw. “I’m just glad he managed to tell me who’d done this to you two before he passed out.”

White teeth sank into her bottom lip, guilt pulsing through her. That’s right. It hadn’t exactly been a victory. They’d managed to take down most of the Marines, but Ushi had managed to get behind her, and then there’d been excruciating pain as he’d driven a knife deep into her side…

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered, black curls hiding her face as she hung her head in shame.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, gold eyes flicking up from the clipboard and narrowing in displeasure.

She wrung her hands, anxious and guilty. “Jean Bart got hurt because of my family baggage.”

“He got hurt because of an opportunistic asshole who decided that Jean being under the protection of a shichibukai didn’t matter,” he snapped. Pausing, he took a deep breath to compose himself. “The fact that said asshole came out of the same uterus as you is irrelevant.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she countered, refusing to look at him. “He targeted the Hearts because of me. He always has. And he wouldn’t have been able to go after Jean Bart if I’d let you kill him years ago. Or killed him myself. You deserve a subordinate with the stones to kill her own brother.”

Internally, she berated herself for that last part. None of this would be a problem if she’d just toughened up and put an end to that bastard. Why did she always seem to stop herself? Morality? Because she knew how heartbroken her parents would be? Because even years later, she was still scared of her childhood boogeyman?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the clipboard lightly smacking her on the head in reproach. It didn’t hurt, but Ikkaku rubbed her head anyway, frowning up at her captain. “You trying to knock me unconscious again?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking bullshit,” he retorted. He glared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh, a tattooed hand falling heavily on her shoulder. “Ikkaku,” Law stated, tone brokering no argument, “what I deserve is a subordinate with the stones to stand up to a power-hungry bastard looking to sell her nakama to a bunch of delusional inbred freaks, which that’s exactly what I’ve got. And what you deserve is to not get stabbed in the spleen by your own blood.”

Well. It was hard to argue that logic. “I guess. But next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand on her shoulder fell away to flip through the pages of her chart. “Ikkaku, you nearly bled out before you even got to the sub. You’re lucky Shachi and Penguin share your blood type and were basically tripping over themselves to donate. I had to replace your spleen and left kidney, and if that knife had gone in at a slightly different angle, he could have punctured your stomach or lung. In other words, this bastard nearly cost me my engineer. You’ve known me for goin’ on five years now; do you really think that once you were stable I just sat around twiddling my thumbs while I waited for you to wake up?”

Dark eyes widened in realization. “Did you kill him?”

“Would you be mad if I said I had?”

No. Not at him at least, but she still felt like she’d let him down by not being able to do it herself. “He shouldn’t have been your problem to solve.”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have been a problem,” he replied harshly. Before Ikkaku could internally berate herself further, though, Law ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and there was a spark of guilt in his eyes. “No Marine should have even touched you guys. That’s supposed to be one of the fucking perks of being a shichibukai. I told you when I took this damn title that you be safe and look how that turned out.”

Yes, that had been a major argument between them, hadn’t it? For Ikkaku, not wanting to be affiliated with the World Government hadn’t just been a matter of pride or general hatred for the bastards who ran the world – she’d been afraid. Terrified that her brother would be waiting for her around every corner. That he’d find a way to get her alone, to finish the job he’d started when she was seven, to finally get her out of his hair. Law had promised she’d be safe, that he wouldn’t let him so much as breath near her. Eventually, she’d come to believe him, but things hadn’t gone to plan.

“You can’t blame yourself for Ushi not following the rules, Law,” she insisted. Yeah, she could have berated him for not listening to her, but in reality, Law’s logic had been sound; Ushi shouldn’t have dared to try anything. Ikkaku didn’t just have the Hearts protecting her anymore – the Navy itself had become another obstacle in his way. She should have been safe.

However, even she hadn’t fully considered why Ushi would go this far, but in hindsight, it made sense. Last she’d checked, he hadn’t been promoted in a while. Hadn’t advanced as quickly as he wanted or earned any accolades for heroism like everyone back home had been expecting. He was a commodore still – not even a rear-admiral, and his name didn’t strike fear into the hearts of pirates like Smoker’s did.

Because he’d been put on a pedestal, her brother had always gotten away with everything, which had only enforced his cruel and abusive nature. The whole island had believed that he’d become a famous Marine and boost their reputation, which was why they’d been willing to overlook the bruises that littered his sister’s arms, or the fact that she’d gone missing for three days while under his care.

If he’d come home a failure, everyone would have to finally admit he was nothing but a twisted, cruel bully. And instead of accepting the blame for enabling, they’d likely make him answer for his crimes.

But more than that, he’d be forced to accept that he was never that special to begin with, and she knew a man as arrogant as him wouldn’t be able to bear that.

Shaking her head, she almost felt pity for him. “Ushi was desperate, and desperate men are unpredictable as fuck. You couldn’t have known he’d be crazy enough to try to suck up to the Celestial Dragons.”

“Neither of us could have known, but I still could have protected you better,” Law retorted, crossing his arms. He still didn’t look fully convinced of his own absolution, but he declared quite plainly, “The fact is, brothers shouldn’t murder their younger siblings, or even try to.”

Well, not even Ikkaku could argue that.

But actions had consequences, and there was still a strong chance Law’s retaliation, justified or not, would bite him in the ass.

“Ushi might have been no one special, but the Navy’s not going to be happy about you killing one of their own,” she said, genuinely worried. Even if Ushi had been going against orders, shichibukai weren’t supposed to attack their Marine allies. What if they decided to strip Law of his new title? Sure, she hated that he was a government dog, but it was a vital part of his plan to take down Joker, and if that had been stripped away because he’d recklessly pursued revenge on her behalf…

The way he smirked at her belied that he didn’t share even a fraction of her concern. “The Navy’ll have a hell of a time pinning a murder on me when there’s no evidence. It’s unlikely he was ordered to attack you and Jean Bart, so there’s no paper trail. The man was obsessed with advancing up the ladder, so likely only a select few are even aware you’re related, thus no one knows of his unfortunate connection to the Heart Pirates. And unless they plan on gutting a bunch of Sea Kings and piecing together chunks of half-digested flesh, I doubt they’ll find enough of his body to even determine his cause of death.”

“You fed him to Sea Kings?”

“His remains, at least. As for how I killed him…well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

It was highly doubtful what he’d done could be described as boring, but Ikkaku decided not to press him. Knowing Law, it had been slow, painful, and had probably involved dissection. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, Captain.”

He dismissed her concerns with a casual wave of his hand. “Of course I did. You’re family. Besides, if I hadn’t, the rest of the crew would have gone after him themselves, and they wouldn’t have done as good a job covering their tracks. Or made him scream quite as loud. No offense to them, but conventional torture methods just can’t match the agony of having your heart slowly crushed to a pulp.”

Was she a bad person for not feeling sick at the thought of her oldest brother—her own blood—being subjected to the Surgeon of Death’s sadism? That instead of anger or disgust, she felt relieved? Sure, he was a massive piece of shit who deserved to die for everything he’d done to her, her other brothers, and who knows what else, but he was still family, wasn’t he?

No. The Hearts were family. Law was family. He was right – Ushi was blood, but he wasn’t her brother.

Law’s brow furrowed with concern and he reached forward, cupping her cheeks and wiping tears away with his thumbs. Ikkaku hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, looking genuinely guilty. “I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I should have at least waited until you were awake and asked—”

Though she was tired and weak and it took far more effort than she’d like, Ikkaku lifted her arm and flicked Law squarely in the forehead. He didn’t quite flinch back, but he did give her an annoyed grunt, but his brow did smooth out when he saw her bright smile.

“Thank you,” she said, cheeks streaked with tears but voice warm with love and affection and gratitude. It might take a while for her to fully accept that Ushi was no longer laying in wait at every Marine base, but for now, she could breath a little easier. The monster from her childhood had finally been vanquished.

Trafalgar Law might not have been a knight in shining armor, but he was something better. He was the big brother she’d always wished for.

Relieved that she wasn’t angry, Law gave her a tiny but sincere grin back. His engineer was alive, safe, and giving him that sunny smile that could light up a room. Well worth the blood on his hands, and quietly, he vowed to keep her, and the rest of his Hearts, safe from whatever hell might come their way.

They were a loyal bunch of fools, but they were his family. He’d set the world on fire before allowing anything to happen to them.

A hand adorned with the word DEATH retreated from Ikkaku’s cheek to ruffle her hair. “Don’t mention it.”

#The Engine is the Heart of the Ship (canon)#Join the Hearts: We Have Uniforms #Heart Siblings #Drabble #(been wanting to go into what happens to Ushi during the timeskip)#(and how it would definitely be Law that kills him instead of Ikkaku)#(hope people like this!)#(not sure about the title but it's the best I could think of without being cheesy or cliche)

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jobrookekarev · 4 years

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He's Wrapped Around Her Finger

Chapter: 1/1

Words: 3500

Summary: While Jo’s sleeping Alex gets to know his newborn daughter and settles into the role of Dad.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson Karev, Helena Karev, and Meredith Grey.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Babies, Baby Care, Fluff, It’s so fluffy I'm going to die, Alex being a Dad, Alex and Jo being smitten with their daughter, Blood Mentioned.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: 3 fanfics in a week who is she! Also I had to Google what color the indicator line on diapers were because I remembered it was yellow at the start, but I didn't remember what color it would turn when it was wet so that how long it’s been since I changed a diaper.

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“Helena Meredith Karev born on November 26th at 5:36 am at 21 inches long and weighing at 8 lb 15 oz., just 1 oz short of 9 lb,” Alex announced as he spoke to Meredith on the phone.

“1 oz. short of 9 lb wow,” Meredith said in astonishment. “How's Jo recovering?”

“She's doing good. She and the baby are asleep right now.”

Alex looks over at the bassinet that was parked next to Jo's bed. Jo slept on her side with one hand in the bassinet on their daughter's chest. Jo’s abandonment issues had come up earlier and Alex noticed she was having a hard time letting Helena out of her sight. Her hand on Helena's chest in the bassinet was how Jo maintained contact with her daughter while getting some much needed rest.

“Good, now promise me you'll never tell Jo that her daughter almost weighed 9 lb. at birth,” Meredith insisted with a little laugh.

“What? Why not?” Alex said confused as he looked over the little note card posted on Helena's bassinet that listed her weight and other details. “Jo knows how much she weighs.”

“Yeah, Jo knows Helena weighs 8 lb. and 15 oz., but when you say she almost weighs 9 lb it isn’t the same thing. Thinking of your baby as 8 lb vs 9 lb is different. No woman likes to be remembered how big their baby was and how hard it was to push them out unless you want Helena to be an only child.”

“Okay, I promise to say she weighs 8 lb. and 14oz. whenever Jo asks,” Alex said rolling his eyes at Meredith as he watched Jo shift in her sleep so her legs were more apart.

Watching Jo be in excruciating amounts of pain as she labored was hard for him, but he pushed it aside to be there to support his wife. Jo’s pain was to the point of which she was completely out of it, just going through the motions as she pushed their daughter into the world. Alex had watched quite a few women give birth, but it was different because it was Jo. He loved her and he hated seeing her in pain knowing that he had partially caused it.

When they had discussed having kids, Alex knew it would include a painful labor and that it would be hard on Jo and her body. Despite her training as an OB and numerous birth classes they had gone to, Jo didn't realize she was in labor until she was in active labor and they had to rush to the hospital. Alex knew that because of this experience Jo may not want to get pregnant again. If that was her decision, he would abide by it. Alex was happy because he was so absolutely content with the little girl in front of him.

“Congratulations, Alex,” Meredith said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“You said that already,” Alex said although he didn't mind hearing it again.

“Yeah well, I'm going to say it again. Have you texted Cristina yet?”

“No, not yet and we haven't talked to too many people, apart from the video call earlier, I’ve just talked to you and my mom. It's hard to find the time. I just keep staring at her, and thank you Meredith for everything.”

“You mean for waking you up so you didn't miss your wife's labor, you're welcome.”

“Yeah that especially,” Alex said as he couldn't help but chuckle as he remembered the chaotic events of that morning. “I'll talk to you later, bye”

“Bye.”

Alex put away his phone and settled into the uncomfortable chair next to Jo’s bed. He thought that they'd make these chairs more comfortable considering that most second parents and family members usually ended up spending the night there, but apparently not. He would have to check the budget and see if they could upgrade the chairs. Despite how he was no longer the chief of surgery, Alex learned a lot, and he still occasionally found himself reverting to taking care of the business side of the hospital. Alex shuffled around trying to get comfortable but clearly, he was not sleeping in this chair that afternoon.

Alex watched over his girl. He smiled at the thought, his girls, he had a daughter. He had a child of his own and oh how he was in love with her. Helena squealed in the bassinet throwing her arms around and Alex was up in an instant. Her tiny face squished even further as she let out a single cry. Jo stirred next to her and he felt like he was in the middle of a complicated surgery.

Alex was quick to slip his hand under Helena as he took Jo's hand and put it next to her. He was cautious so as not to wake his sleeping wife and let her get the rest she deserved while also soothing their newborn. As soon as he put down Jo's hand and moved to cradle Helena, he stopped for a moment. Jo sighed but didn't move or wake up and he looked down at Helena who cried out again. Helena spread out her arms and continued to fuss. After a certain number of years, soothing babies became instinctual and Alex started to sway and shush.

“Shh, Shh, it's okay, Daddy's got you.” Alex smiled down at her as she stopped fussing and opened her eyes to look up at him.

Helena studied him for a moment, staring into his soul in the way only a baby could before she decided this wasn't what she wanted, and cried out again in that little uh fussy cry.

“Okay, okay,” Alex said, he looked back to the chair before he sat down and laid Helena on his knees. He undid the blanket intending to redo it into a proper swaddle. “Oh, I see what it is.”

Alex saw the full diaper and the blue line that indicated she had her first wet diaper. He was weirdly proud about it especially as it meant that her kidneys were functioning well and she was hydrated. “Okay, give me a second.”

Alex cradled her close to his chest as he got up and walked over to the drawers where they kept wipes and diapers. He got the supplies and went over to the changing table in the bathroom. He propped the door open in case Jo woke up as he didn't want her to panic when they were gone and got the changing table open.

“You know, I promised your mom I’d do all of these diaper changes since she carried you for nine months, basically built you from scratch, and just now endured quite a few hours of labor with you. She wanted an epidural you know, but she didn’t realize she was in labor. You gotta remind me to tease her about that later, but not until after her stitches heal, and you were eager to get here too huh?” Alex said to Helena as she continued to fuss a little bit more as he quickly changed her and got her settled in a fresh diaper.

Alex staring down at her as he pulled down the onesie Jo had put on her. He knew Jo like the ‘little turkey’ onesie, but it had buttons and buttons were always a struggle, even for a seasoned Ped’s doctor like he was. Alex resisted the urge to grab the other baby gown or even the one with the zippers as he finally did the last button.

“There we go, are we happy now?” Alex asked, Helena looked around and was content and wiggled around. He wrapped her up into a proper swaddle before he picked her up again, but she looked up at him and then cried out again, still not happy. “I know, I am not-mom right now aren't I.”

Alex quietly talked to her as he settled her in his arms and walked back into the room. He sat down in the recliner and started to rock back and forth. “I'm not-Mom. I'm not what you want, I know, we don't know each other yet, although you might recognize my voice. I've read you lots of stories while you were still in your mommy's belly. I even did a little bit of singing too, but don't tell anyone around here that.”

Alex settled into the movement of the chair as he looked down at Helena. She had stopped fussing and stared up at him again, seeming to take him in as she listened to his voice and he took that as a cue to continue.

“I guess now would be the proper time for an introduction. I'm your dad, most people call me Alex or Dr. Karev around here at the hospital. Your mom calls me Alex too, but she drags it out a little in a way that's pretty adorable. Your Aunt Cristina is going to call me Evil Spawn and your Auntie Mare might do it too. You've met her already, although you probably didn't notice. She was on the video called when you were born, but I remember how you and your mom only had eyes for each other. Your mom and I, we don't have a big bio family, but we do have lots of friends and they're our family. They all love you so much already, especially your cousin Ellis.”

Alex rambled off to her as Helena just watched him, and he took in his daughter. He never really saw familiar features in newborns. They always just looked similar, like babies and not much else. The features really didn’t come in until they were a little older and then you could say they look like one parent or the other. Yet, as Alex looked down at Helena he saw his chin and his crooked lips in the way that she frowned as she cried. She looked like Jo too, she had Jo’s cute little cheeks and her eyes. Although she looked like an even mix of them now, he could tell that she was going to be a little tiny Jo running around their house. They joked about how they'd never be able to say no to their kid, and Alex knew that with just one look from Helena and he would melt like snow in the sun. His daughter would always be the bright spot in his day.

Helena's eyes started to droop, but she would occasionally blink them open. As if she was fighting sleep as much as Jo did. “You are already so much like your mother. She does that same thing too, you know. When we watch movies on the couch with Reese's, you haven't met him yet and he just knows you as the thing that keeps him from sitting on Mommy's lap. It might be a while before you two become friends, but you’ll like him too.”

Alex rocked her as she fell asleep in his arms and it made him feel some weird sense of accomplishment because his kid fell asleep in his arms. He knew from experience that getting a baby back to sleep was no easy feat. He continued to hold her, not ready to put her back down again. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to put her down and he knew why Jo was hesitant to do so as well. He just sat there and rocked his daughter and held her and patted her back.

“Anyway, Saturday nights are movie nights and your Mommy always curls up in my lap and puts her head on my chest. She always says she'll stay up and watch the whole movie,” Alex said as he leaned closer to whisper to Helena. “But she never does.”

“That's not true,” Jo whispered and Alex looked up to see her smile from where she was curled up in bed.

She must have been watching them for a little while and he smiled back at her. A sense of relief filled his mind as she had woken up without panicking for the first time and he tried to remain calm as he smiled back at her.

“It is true, you always fall asleep just, like clockwork before the end credits.”

“I didn't fall asleep when we watched that one really bad horror movie.”

“Yeah because it scared the crap out of you. I had to turn it off because you started crying.”

“No, we had to turn it off because Reeses wouldn't stop barking at it.”

“Okay Princess,” Alex said, smiling as she raised her eyebrows at him and he chuckled as he got up and walked over to sit on her bed. The second he sat down Jo reached out, and he thought she was going to take Helena, but instead, she smacked the side of his arm. “Hey, I've got precious cargo here.”

“She’s fine and you can't use our daughter as a shield to protect you against my wrath,” Jo teased with a smirk of her own. She carefully sat up and Alex's smile faded as she grimaced when she moved.

“Is your ice pack still cold? Do you want me to get you a new one or something?”

“No, I think I bled through the pad again.”

Jo pulled back the blankets and he was relieved to see that there were no bloodstains on the sheets. Jo carefully got up out of bed and Alex put Helena down in the bassinet.

“No, just hold her, I’ll be fine,” Jo said, waving him off.

“Jo, let me take care of you,” Alex insisted as he watched Helena for a second to see if she’d fuss before he went over to help his wife.

Alex put his arm around her and grabbed the IV pole as they took small and wide steps over to the bathroom. Jo let go of his waist as she stepped into the bathroom and grabbed the peri bottle and her other supplies. Alex got out a new ice pad and activated it, shaking it up before he felt it cool in his hand. He handed it to her before she waved him off again.

“Just let me help you, Jo. I know it hurts you to whip and…”

“Alex,” Jo said, slightly annoyed as she cut him off. “You can change our daughter's diapers, not mine. I got this.”

“Are you sure, because honestly, I don't mind,” Alex argued, he wasn't sure how much she would let him take care of her, but he wanted to do this for her. If she let them.

“Alex, today multiple people, several of whom are my coworkers, have seen me naked on a bed pushing out a baby. I need a moment of privacy,” Jo said, holding her hand out to block him from coming close.

Alex nodded and took a step back. He made a big thing about covering his eyes and turned around to go back out into the room, bumping into the doorway as Jo laughed behind him. He smiled as it didn't hurt that much and hearing her laugh after her tears earlier felt good. Alex rubbed his forehead as he went back into the room and picked up Helena again, knowing Jo would want to hold her the second she was back in bed.

Alex looked down at her and smiled, completely smitten. From the moment Jo told him she was pregnant, he was over the moon. He had seen how parents had fallen in love with their child and he felt that love the moment Jo was pregnant. The moment Carina had placed their daughter on Jo’s chest. It was like his heart burst with love and happiness. It was so overwhelming and utterly consuming. He loved his daughter more than he could describe.

He had taken care of babies his entire life. His mom had started to slip just after Amber turned one so the majority of her care fell to him. He practically raised Amber and Aaron until they were all put in foster care. After Amber got sick and had to go to the hospital and the state finally stepped in. After that, he took care of his mom throughout high school and college up until the day he got the job and flew out to the then Seattle Grace Hospital. Even then he sent money and hired someone to check on her. When it came to his career, he wanted to go into plastics, but somehow he ended up in Peds and he was good there.

He took care of thousands of babies over the years and in caring for them he loved them. Alex watched their parents love them more than anything in the world, and he got a bit of that love when it came to Meredith’s kids. They were his nieces and nephew and he loved them like they were his own because they were family, but he still didn't experience the kind of love a parent had for their child, until the moment his child was there. It was all he could think about. She was all-consuming in a way that he could just stare at her for hours.

It wasn't until he really succeeded at being a Peds doctor that he knew he could be a dad. Even though it still terrified him. Every injured kid that walked through the door he could see being his kid. He went home to Jo and put his hands on her belly and he worried. Alex worried about all the possible complications, diseases, and injuries that their kids could get. Even now staring down at her, he knew she was perfect. Her APGAR score was a 10, she had good reflexes, and she was eating and wetting her diapers, and she was perfect, but he still worried. He was so lost in thought that he even noticed Jo had come up behind him until she pressed up against him and they stared down at their daughter.

“She's perfect, Alex,” Jo whispered to him, kissing his cheek. She had always been able to since his worries.

“Yeah, she is,” Alex said as he put his arm around her as they both stared at Helena completely in awe of their daughter.

Jo moved to get back in bed and Alex helped her up, despite how she protested. After she was settled, Alex placed Helena in her arms before Jo could even ask.

“Thank you,” Jo whispered, cradling her close.

They both continued to stare down at her and Alex sat back down in the chair and scooted closer to their bedside. Helena’s little eyes fluttered open, but she didn't cry as she stared up at Jo who smiled down at her. Completely smitten as well.

“Yeah, that’s Mommy isn’t it,” Alex said reaching out and putting his hand on Jo’s knee. Jo didn't even glance up at him, she just smiled down at Helena.

In the past nine months, he had watched Jo go through so many emotions, as he watched her become a mother. Everything she did was to care for their daughter. He knew that Jo was terrified about becoming a mom when they first started talking about kids years ago. She knew the heartache of a bad childhood because she lived it. She was terrified of her genes and she wanted a career first so he waited patiently for her to be ready.

Watching her with their daughter in just the past few hours Alex thought she was the best mom in the world, although he might be a little biased. Jo was so good with her, the second Helena fussed or cried, Jo would pick her up. She was so attentive to their daughter and so loving, Alex couldn't help but just watch them together.

“Daddy is staring at us,” Jo giggled as she looked up and caught him.

Alex smiled completely unashamed. “What can I say, I'm awestruck by the two beautiful girls in front of me, my girls.”

“Your girls,” Jo smiled before she realized something and giggled. “Alex Karev has a daughter.”

“Oh God,” Alex said, putting a hand over his face as he realized the karmic payback that was coming to him.

“With your luck, she’ll probably be crazy for whatever gender she ends up liking,” Jo laughed putting her hand on his arm as the color drained from his face.

“No, no, she is a baby. We're not talking about this,” Alex said, shaking his head.

“She's not going to be a baby forever,” Jo said as she tilted her head and smiled at him, clearly enjoying torturing him.

“No, but she is a baby right now, a newborn and she's going to stay that way,” Alex said looking down at Helena and rubbing her little cheek.

Jo giggled again as she leaned forward and reached her hand out to wrap around his neck and pull in for a kiss. Alex let himself linger on Jo's lips as she smiled against his lips. Helena squealed and they parted with a laugh as they looked down at their daughter who stared up at Jo. Jo traced her finger down Helena’s cheek as she rocked her and Alex smiled at his girls. Yeah, this was perfect.

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AN: On a scale of 1 to 10 how much did this turn you into a pile of mush?

#jo wilson #alex karev #jolex #grey's anatomy #meredith grey #grey's anatomy fanfic #otp: home and heart #my writing #my work #my fanfiction

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crazy-loca-blog · 4 years

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Personal thoughts on Open Heart Second Year, Chapter 19

Note: As the title says, these are just personal opinions on Choices books and chapters. Of course, you may agree or disagree with them, I only use this platform to express my thoughts on what I read every week and what I’d like to see in the next chapters, because none of my friends play Choices so I have no one to comment the books with.

Let’s see… how do I even begin with this? Oh yeah… I’m mad. It’s really hard to be mad at my favorite series, but I’m mad (but nope, it’s not because of what everyone has been complaining about in the last few hours… keep reading and you’ll find out). But let’s start with the good things that happened this week (because yeah, there were many good things that must be highlighted):

The Caroline Bloom case had some bittersweet effect on me. On one side, and I’ve said it before, she is a good woman, and she doesn’t deserve any of this. Her diagnosis was heartbreaking and it only followed the same path as most of our diagnosis throughout this book: terrible things happening to incredibly good people. On the other hand, we had our revenge… sweet, sweet revenge (at a terrible cost, of course!). When we treated Leland Bloom, the man literally bought a new kidney to keep living… and we were all mad at him because of this. Well, every decision we make must have a consequence (good or bad) at some point, and now we know how things ended for him. No one would have ever thought that saving him would mean “killing” the only thing that truly matters to him… his wife.

Also, even though I love the dynamic and the work ethic between the MC, Ethan and Baz (excuse me, but June who?), I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll see Baz in Book 3 or if he’ll keep working with us as he does in Book 2. You know, I really enjoy when the writers give us a chance to have diamond scenes with secondary characters that are loved by the readers, but I think that the scene with Zaid wasn’t there just by chance. Even since the beginning of the chapter we got plenty of information on Baz Mirani, like too much information for a single chapter. Now we know that Baz is a world-class immunologist, that he’s receiving an award that is attached to a job offer, and that he is more into research than into diagnosing people… so Zaid is probably the only reason why he hadn’t left Edenbrook yet. But overall, I loved helping them, not only because they are great characters, but also because now we know that Baz is the reason why Zaid became a doctor, and also because PB keeps teasing us with the type of relationship that Zaid and Ines have (just choose to help Zaid on his words choice and you’ll see). It was a great moment.

There is also this scene with Ethan… even though this is not a romance scene, I’m beginning to think that the OH writers might be reading some fan fictions during their free time, because this is something that Ethan stans have been asking and writing about for a while now. Overall the scene was nice, BUT the fact that some of the content in it is paywalled bothered me a little bit. In normal circumstances I wouldn’t mind about it, but after Louise got admitted at Edenbrook, Ethan’s issues with her became more visible to every player, not only for people who pay the diamond scenes. So even though there are some brilliant moments in it (not only we confirmed that, if you’re romancing him, Alan is the captain of that ship, but we can also tell the MC will be teasing him about his teddy bear FOREVER!), I have too many questions about how this scene went in different scenarios. I personally think I got the proper closure to his issues, he promised to visit his dad more often, the relationship between them seems to be fine now, and Ethan even told Alan that he would give his childhood pictures to Louise (I took the route to forgive her). But again, I’ve bought all of his diamond scenes and a lot of this stuff was already paywalled. But what happens if you took other routes? I mean, how do things go if you don’t forgive Louise? What if you don’t buy his diamond scenes at all? Don’t you feel like something was left there like “floating” and unsolved? Because it does feel weird to me.

And finally, we had this scene with our friends, which I liked it, but I didn’t love it… I would have expected to see them wrapping up things at Donahue’s after completing the bucket list. However, I’m very happy for all those people who wanted to romance Sienna, Aurora or Elijah… because I guess a kiss is better than nothing (?)

Anyway, I wanted to stop for a second to talk about Rafael. I want to dedicate a full paragraph just to him this time. Because there is something about him and his behavior… and I’m really sorry for Raf stans, but something is not looking good here. Even before the incident I had a bad feeling about him, and it has nothing to do with the idea of PB daring to kill him. He’s been a mess this whole book (and nope, I’m not talking about the writing). He rekindled a relationship with his ex that never felt right. He took a lot more risks than he used to do, to the point that he ended up being suspended. Then he quit a job he apparently loved. Then we had the incident, right before he moved to Brazil looking for a fresh start. After the incident, he decided to move to a new neighborhood, and last, but not least, we’ve discovered he’s not a fan of riding helicopters anymore (do you remember how excited he was about this in Book 1?). There is also what he said today and that got our MC thinking... and I think… guys, I think Raf has been going through some HUGE depression during the whole book, but it’s only being more evident now. He definitely needs further treatment, like ASAP. Also, and I know I’ve said it in the past, our MC and Raf really need to have some type of “heart to heart” conversation, a deep one, because in my mind, they need each other to find some real peace after all they went through together.

By now, I don’t even feel like talking about the LIs anymore but yes, I will do it, because even though I loved the night out scene with our gang in Chapter 18, now I’m guessing this could have messed things up with our LIs. In case you don’t know, that night out was supposed to be a “night date”. Maybe that night date was supposed to be the scene where we would have “the talk”. However, we didn’t have that date, we haven’t had “the talk” yet, Edenbrook closed its doors and we were left like… OK… so what’s happening with our personal lives now? I’m hoping to see them fixing this mess in Chapter 20, because right now it looks kind of ridiculous. The fact that our MC almost died should have changed the perspective of all relationships (or at least that’s how it looked like during the incident and after the funeral). After the gala, it looked like finally all the LIs were at the same level and ready to take the next step. Now I feel like we’re all right where we stood at the end of Book 1 (I can see Jackie, Raf and Bryce acting as if we were a hook up and Ethan pushing us away all over again). And as I said last week, maybe this uncertainty is due to the fact that we still don’t know where the MC will go or where our LIs will go, everything is kind of blurry for all of us. But again, that doesn’t mean we don’t want to know what’s happening with our personal lives. Are we breaking up? Are we going to try long distance? Are we moving to the same city? Again, I know in the end we’ll stay in Boston and everything will “go back to normal”, but as of this moment, Edenbrook is closed and we must leave, so it bothers me to see that this part of our story hasn’t been addressed yet. I don’t need our LIs to say those three words, I don’t need them to be exclusive, I don’t even need them to be official… I only need answers on how they’re going to face the future.

Well, if you’ve read all this non-sense I’ve been writing, this is probably where you wonder “why is she mad besides the obvious?”. And my dear people, this is where we go to the very last scene of the chapter. When I saw the limo and Leland talking to us, my first thought was “I really hope that Ethan is inside that limo too, because I don’t want my MC having to make these decisions by herself” (I play as a girl). But nope, he wasn’t there… and that’s where I got mad, really mad… at Leland Bloom. Of course Ethan wasn’t there because Leland knows that he would say “no” without even listening to him, and of course he would go directly to the MC because Leland knows that if there is one person that Ethan would listen to, that’s the MC. Also, why didn’t he just call the board, just like he did the very first time he needed our help? It’s not like he doesn’t know how to reach them. Why did he decide to go to a second year resident’s home instead? There is something so, so weird about this guys… I don’t believe in his reasons to reach the MC instead of people like Ethan, Naveen or the board. I have a gut feeling that we’re walking on thin ice here, especially because accepting Leland’s money means we’ll have to play by his rules in Book 3. And I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t expect to have a happy ending next chapter… I think we’ll have to deal with some huge cliffhanger instead.

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omgjasminesimone · 4 years

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Juvenile Delinquents Epilogue

Logan x MC

Word Count: ~2400

For MC day of @rodappreciationweek, an MC focused epilogue to my story Juvenile Delinquents, where Logan and Ellie give their daughter up for adoption.

Ellie’s half hearted watching of a documentary is interrupted by her ringing phone. Ellie glances at the phone as it vibrates on her coffee table. She doesn’t recognize the number, but it’s an LA area code.

She hesitantly picks up. “Hello?”

“Ellie Wheeler?” The caller asks.

“...who is this?” Ellie counters. She doesn’t use that name anymore. Not since an ex at Langston who’d she’d confided in hacked her juvenile criminal record and publically released it after their messy break up.

“Oh, right. What did the investigator say... Elle Gordon was it now?” The caller continues.

Ellie frowns, turning off the tv. “Again, who is this?”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m going about this all wrong. It’s Chet, Chet Johnson?” He says, as if she might have forgotten. As if choosing him and his husband to raise her and Logan’s daughter might have slipped her mind.

Ellie thinks about her daughter every day. Little things will stir up her memories, like seeing a yellow car (she’s pretty sure they conceived their daughter in Logan’s beloved car), or hearing a baby cry. Ellie tries not to dwell in the memories, because it’s just too painful.

“Chet. Wow. It’s been a while.” 5 years, to be exact. Ellie furrows her brow. “Is something wrong?” Maybe her daughter needs a kidney or something? She can’t imagine why else he’d be calling.

“No, no.” Chet is quick to reassure. “Nothing is wrong. It’s something good, actually. At least, I think it’s something good. Dahlia, we explained adoption to her, and she wants to meet her birth parents.”

Tears immediately well in Ellie’s eyes. “Dahlia, that’s pretty.” Ellie says softly. She and Logan never picked out a name, knowing they weren’t going to get to keep their baby.

“She’s amazing. She’s made us so happy. We’re so grateful to you. And to Logan. You gave us such a gift.” Chet gets a little choked up, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’d...I’d love to meet her. If that’s something you and Frank are comfortable with.”

“We’re very comfortable! We weren’t sure what your thoughts on this were going to be, we considered it might be too painful, that maybe you wanted a clean break. That’s why we didn’t reach out after the birth.”

“I think back then, it might have been too much, the loss still too fresh. But now, I think I can handle it. I’d really like to meet her.” Ellie reassures.

“That’s good to hear. Especially after all the effort that went into tracking you down! You and Logan are both difficult people to reach.” Chet replies.

Ellie swallows. “...you talked to Logan?”

“I did. He wants to meet Dahlia too. Frank and I were thinking we could all meet up at the park.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything to that, so Chet continues.

“...that’s not a problem, is it? Did something happen between you two?” He questions.

Ellie hasn’t spoken to Logan in almost 4 years. There was no big dramatic break up, their relationship just seemed to slowly fizzle out with them living on opposite sides of the country. She’d been busy with school, and he’d been busy with work, and they’d slowly run out of things to talk about over the phone. They never talked about their daughter, that topic too painful to broach just to have something meaningful to say to one another.

Ellie shakes herself out of her reverie. “No, that’s absolutely fine. Makes sense to do both the introductions at once.” She assures.

“Great! I’ll text you the details once we have all the logistics worked out.”

...

They schedule their meet up for a month later. Ellie flies home to LA from Dallas, where she’s working in her first post graduation position. The whole flight, she’s too anxious to eat anything. What if Dahlia doesn’t like her? What if they just sit there in awkward silence? Ellie doesn’t have a lot of experience with small children.

Despite her apprehension, Ellie is excited. She’s always wondered what Dahlia would be like, what she looks like now, if she’d be able to spot any of Logan’s mannerisms in their daughter.

If she’s being honest with herself, some of her apprehension might have to do with being reunited with her first love. Things just feel...unfinished between them. She almost wishes they’d had some big fight, just so she had some closure. But he just slowly...stopped calling. And she didn’t call him either. And then she just assumed they were done, and started dating someone else, all without ever speaking to Logan about it.

She doesn’t sleep much the night before the big reunion. Ellie is staying with her dad, who didn’t help her anxiety when he revealed he thought meeting Dahlia might be too much for her, so her stomach is in knots when she arrives at the park 30 minutes before the scheduled meeting time.

Ellie parks her dad’s car and makes her way over to an unoccupied bench. She takes deep breaths to try to calm herself down.

But then, Ellie feels like she stops breathing completely when spots a familiar yellow Devore pulling into the parking lot.

He steps out of the car. He’s just as beautiful as he was 5 years ago when she left him at that train station.

His hair is cut shorter, but it’s still long. He’s wearing the sparkplug necklace, like always. He spots her, freezing for a moment, before offering her a somewhat hesitant smile and making his way over.

She stands up as he approaches. They stand in front of each other awkwardly for a moment, before Ellie reaches out for a hug.

Logan squeezes her tight, resting his head on top of her’s and subtly breathing in her familiar coconut shampoo. “Eleanor Wheeler, it’s been a minute.” He greets.

It’s several long moments before Ellie pulls away, looking up at him. She doesn’t bother to correct him on her name change. “Logan, it’s good to see you.”

The former lovers sit down on the bench, engulfed in an uncomfortable silence reminiscent of their last few phone calls.

But this time, Logan actually broaches that subject he always avoided so as not to upset her. “Are you as nervous as I am about meeting Dahlia?”

Ellie smiles, nodding. “I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach.” She admits.

“Yeah, it’s kind of crazy. I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long, and now it’s actually happening.” Logan continues.

“Do you...think she’ll want to know why we didn’t keep her?” Ellie questions.

Logan leans back, looking thoughtful. “...no. She’s only five. I think by the time she’s old enough to wonder, she’ll already know the reason. We just weren’t in a position to give her what she deserves.”

Ellie nods. “We were too young. We did what was right for her. I know that. And yet, when I was at Langston, I still sometimes wondered if it was worth it.”

Logan furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted what was best for her, but I also wanted what was best for me. I’d put so much work into Langston, I thought it was the end all be all, and I knew I couldn’t do it with a baby. But then, when I got there, college wasn’t really the amazing experience I thought it was going to be. It didn’t seem.....worth not having her.” Ellie admits.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair. Ellie can’t help but quirk a small smile that he still has that familiar nervous tell. “Ellie....” he trails off, seemingly not knowing what to say to that.

“Well, how was it for you? Not having your daughter?” Ellie asks.

Logan lets out a humorless laugh, gazing down at the sidewalk. “I...I didn’t deserve to have her. I still don’t Ellie. I never left the gang, I never went back to school, or did any of the things I promised you I would if you let us keep the baby. I’m just a fuck up you were smart to get away from.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that Logan.” Ellie pleads, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting loose hug. “You can still do all those things.” She assures him. “And I know you would have, if you’d had your daughter to motivate you.”

Logan returns her hug, burying his face into her hair. Ellie feels tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed being in his arms.

She feels Logan expel a little breath, and then he murmurs. “They’re here.”

Ellie pulls herself away from his chest, looking to the parking lot where Chet and Frank are getting Dahlia out of her car seat.

The little girl takes both of her dads’ hands as they make their way over, all smiling merrily.

Ellie and Logan both rush to their feet, meeting the family halfway.

Chet smiles and hugs both of them, Frank following suit. Chet then crouches to Dahlia’s level. “Baby, these are your birth parents, Ellie and Logan.”

Dahlia grins up at them. “I grew in your belly!” She announces giddily to Ellie.

Ellie laughs, dropping to a crouch so they can be at eye level. “You did. You had quite the kick!”

Dahlia’s grin widens, and then she turns her attention to Logan. “I like your hair! It’s the same color as mine!” She compliments.

Logan crouches too, offering Dahlia a shy smile. “I think you got my eyes too, but that’s definitely Ellie’s nose.” He playfully bops their daughter’s nose, and Dahlia giggles.

Ellie sees some of Logan in Dahlia’s facial features, but their little girl definitely resembles Ellie more. It’s like looking in a time warped mirror.

The five of them take a seat at a picnic table and make small talk. Ellie can barely pay attention to anyone besides Dahlia though. Genetics are so crazy. Dahlia wrinkles her nose like Ellie does when she seemingly disagrees with something that was said. And her smile starts in the corner and then grows, just like Logan’s.

Eventually, Dahlia grasps Ellie’s hand and drags her over to the swings. “Will you push me Ellie?” The little girls asks sweetly, and Ellie is quick to do as requested.

“Logan! Logan look!” Dahlia calls as she pumps her little legs. Dahlia has warmed to them so quickly. She’s clearly a very friendly and happy little girl. Ellie feels a little silly for spending so many hours fretting over Dahlia not liking her.

Logan makes his way over, taking over pushing duty.

“Daddies, look! Look!” Dahlia calls out when with Logan’s assistance, she gets higher than ever before.

“Alright Logan, put a little less power behind those pushes please!” Frank calls a little worriedly.

“Oops, my bad!” Logan calls back, gripping the chains to stop Dahlia’s momentum.

Dahlia pouts as she looks up at him. “But I like going high Logan.” She whines.

“No can do kiddo, you heard your dad.” Logan returns, pushing much softer this time.

Ellie smiles as she watches the two of them. It kind of hurts though. It’s so easy to envision a world where they could be mommy and daddy instead of Ellie and Logan.

Hours fly by, and before they know it the sun is setting and the park is getting ready to close.

Ellie and Dahlia walk back to Chet and Frank’s car hand in hand, the men all trailing slightly behind them chatting.

Ellie has to keep all her focus on not crying as she faces saying goodbye to her daughter, again.

“Sweetie, wasn’t there something you wanted to say to Logan and Ellie?” Frank prompts.

Dahlia nods enthusiastically, and motions for them to come close. They both crouch, and Dahlia wraps her arms around both their necks in a warm hug. “Thank you for my daddies!” She chimes sweetly.

“And thank you for Dahlia.” Chet starts choking up again, and Frank wraps an arm around him, placing a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “We really cannot express how grateful we are to the two of you.” Chet elaborates, fighting back tears.

Ellie kisses Dahlia’s chubby cheek before freeing herself from her daughter to wrap both Chet and Frank in a big hug. “Thank you for making her so happy and loving her so much.” She murmurs in their ears.

Logan stands, holding Dahlia with one arm and reaching out his free hand to shake hands with Chet, and then Frank. “You guys are amazing parents. You’ve done such a great job with her.”

Chet laughs, wiping at his eyes. “Well, you guys provided us with some pretty great source material.”

Dahlia lets out a big yawn, all the hours of playing clearly wore her out. She reaches for Frank, and Logan passes her over to her dad. She rests her head on Frank’s shoulder, eyes blinking sleepily.

“Well, we should let you get out of here.” Ellie forces herself to say.

“Yeah, we need to start getting home. But this was really great. Would you guys be up for doing this again? Maybe on an annual basis?” Chet offers.

Both Ellie and Logan readily agree.

“Bye Ellie! Bye Logan! See you next year!” Dahlia chimes when she’s strapped into her car seat minutes later, waving at them merrily.

They wave back before Chet closes the door. Chet and Frank hug them both again, saying their goodbyes.

Ellie finally lets the tears fall as the car drives off. Instinctively, she looks to Logan for comfort, burying her face into his chest and crying into his shirt.

Logan wraps his arms around her as he lets her cry it out, gently rubbing her back. “We did the right thing Ellie.”

“I know. But it’s still hard.” She returns, but her tears are starting to subside, calmed by Logan’s gentle embrace.

Ellie eventually pulls herself together, hesitantly letting go of Logan. But she can’t bring herself to say goodbye to him just yet, even though her dad is expecting her home soon.

Luckily, it seems like Logan isn’t ready to say goodbye either. He cups her cheeks, wiping away the last few stubborn tears. “God, I missed you troublemaker.” He admits softly.

“I missed you too.” Ellie returns. And then, she gives into the urge she’s been feeling all day. She wraps her arms around his neck, and captures his lips. She can’t help but let out a happy sigh when his hands tangle into her hair as he kisses her back. For the first time since leaving LA 5 years ago, Ellie feels like she’s home.

...

taglist: @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @drakexnadira @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @maxwellsquidsuit @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @choicesgremlin @lovehugsandcandy @desireepow-1986 @blades-of-light-and-shadow @justdani14 @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris @mskaneko @anxious-arliah @zaffrenotes @iam-ankita @ohsnapitzlovehacker

#logan x mc #logan rod #ride or die #choices fanfiction #rodaw

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natsukitakama · 4 years

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Monster Tomura Shigaraki x reader

Author note : Okay about this one. I know I shouldn't but I could help myself but fell hard for the league of villains especially Dabi and Shigaraki. I hope you would enjoy it I'm still self-conscious about my writing so let me know if you enjoy this ! ♡ I somehow got inspire by two songs : Meg Myers Desire and an ost from the movie Joker called Call me joker if you want to know where everything came from.

Before we started, let me reminds you this relationships is TOXIC please be careful. I picture Shigaraki to be a kind of Yandere especially if he falls in love with someone considering the type of childhood he had. No one should treat you the way he will in this story, you’re precious and deserve someone who’ll be able to take care of you properly.

Warning : Toxic relationship / Mention of blood and violence / Kinda smut / Shigaraki manipulate Reader’s mind / Spoiler-free

Words counting : 5576

Masterlist

A dark side, You always felt like it, sometimes it was as if you could touch it. You knew it, deep down, you knew some dark instincts were sleeping waiting to be used. But you always managed to keep it down no matter what. Sometimes you struggled though. People were so annoying, always yelling, complaining, screaming, and for what ? Nothing. It pissed you off, you couldn’t count how many time you wished you could just shut them for good. Your quirk was a destructive one, a weapon that’s how people would call you if they found out. But they won’t. You worked too hard for them to find out your secret. For now you were just a nice human being working as a nurse to survive. That’s all mattered for you : survive. You weren’t that introvert person who weren’t comfortable with people, in fact you were kinda talkative and pretty good with people. You just couldn’t see their behavior, most of the times they were so selfish so violent and for what ? Nothing just a selfish reason to justify their fierceness. You always hated people who fought for nothing for instance you couldn’t see villains.

But that’s what before you met him. You knew he was trouble, you knew it could be dangerous he was a monster just like you. Maybe that why you were attracted to him in the first place ? You met Shigaraki by coincidence. You were walking home when you found a man laying down, he seemed in pain judging by the whole blood he was covered with. You lived in a « bad » city full of thugs but they were fine with you so were you ; but you knew better than getting involve in some of their business. Nonetheless, you couldn’t let that boy on the floor, it wasn’t ethical. What should you do ? Checking him won’t cause you any trouble right ? You were just acting as a normal citizen just being sure he wasn’t dying, beside not helping someone in needs is a crime.

So you just walked slowly in his direction trying to see anything who could confirm you his state. You caught his body slowly moving as he was breathing, he wasn’t dead that was a good thing. When you were finally closed enough to him you kneel down to have a better look at his body, you saw some marks on his necks probably because he scratched at it to help him going through his anxiety, then you caught some bruised on his back and a big wound on his side. That where the blood were coming you thought.

« Uh hello ? Could you hear me ? I-I saw you lying here on the floor, I’m nurse i can help you but I need to know what happen so i- »

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as the man was holding your wrist, you gasped not only because he scare you but also because he was holding you firmly it might give a you some bruises later. The you felt it, a pair of red eyes was looking at you deeply looking for any sign you might be a danger for him. As if you could read his mind you were gently putting your other hand in the air.

« It’s okay like I say I’m nurse. I won’t hurt you if I wanted you I could just let you down the floor emptying from your blood. My name is Y/N »

The man above you was still holding your wrist with four of his fingers and you wonder why he didn’t hold you with all of his fingers. But before you could ask him anything, he let your wrist down and managed to lay on his back so his front body was full in front of you.

« Alright you don’t want to give me your name that’s fine. May I have your consent to examine your body ?

Why would you ask that ?

Excuse me ?

It’s not like I could anything so just do your thing

Exactly you’re in « weak position » and I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of it so may I touch ?

Whatever do your thing doc’ »

Chuckling for his shyness (at least what you took for shyness), you took his shirt and proceed to raise it until you could finally have a look at his whole chest. He was pretty slim despite his muscle, you were worried he didn’t eat as much as he had to. You’ll probably buy him so foods later. Examining his white body you finally found that wound you were looking for.

« Damn it’s pretty deep how did you get that ?

...

I see not very talkative right ? But I need to know if there any chance you might some bullet in it

Glass

What ?

I fell from a window so I might have some glasses in my body

Alright let me see have a look, just be sure to take a deep breath I’m not gonna lie it’s going to be painful. If it’s too painful let me know

Don’t think just do your job doc’ »

So did you. Being the cautious one, you always be sure to have some tools on you just in case you need to take something away from your body. Luckily today, you got your ultrasound with you : well it wasn’t your ultrasound but you needed one and it wasn’t like someone would notice. It was a probe with a long wire and in the end they were some usb who could be linked to your phone. You quickly linked everything and use it on his body, so you were able to vibrate through his body looking for anything suspicious. Then you found it, 3 pieces of glasses one was close to his pancreas while two were moving around kidney. You needed to work quickly otherwise it might damaged his body.

« Okay Hon’ I found three pieces of glasses on your body I’m about to cut you here and here to take them off. Again it might be painful I’ll try to be quick but please tell me if you can’t take it

God, are you always talking that much ?

Only when I’m the one doing the whole talk hon’

Stop calling me Hon’

Give me your name then

Then it’s Hon’ I’m healing you so I’m giving you a nickname

Whatever just do it quickly »

Again you did as he said. You took advantage of the previous wound from his side to take glasses who were close to his kidney. You did everything to be as quickly as possible, during your whole surgery he barely moved as if was used to it. You couldn’t help but feel bad for him, he noticed your expression but say nothing about it. Then after taking the first two glasses you managed to clean his wound and then stitched it.

« Alright Hon’ just one missing are you alright ?

Less talking more surgery »

You chuckled, and then processed to keep going. The last was one was a struggle, it was moving around his pancreas, in addition you have to be careful about his whole digestive system. With a deep breath you cut slowly, just enough to work, and then you moved your pliers around his body looking for the missing glass. A couple of minute later you finally took it and removed it. Again, you clean his wound and stitched it. Unfortunately you didn’t have anything who could be use as a bandage.

« Alright Hon’ I’m done with the cut things, you shouldn’t lose any blood now. I found some bruise on your back and neck should I see it ?

No.

Are you sure about it ?

...

Okay. Well, I don’t have anything I could use as a bandage should I take you to my house ?

Why would you do that ?

Well you can’t just walk with some fresh wound, you might catch some germs

I’ll be fine now just leave

I can’t

Why not ? You just have to stand up and then move your legs pretty simple for a doc’ am I right ?

That’s not about that Hon’ but you looked very tired, I can’t let you walk on your own

Told you I’ll be fine someone is about to catch me

Uh ? There anyone here I lived here those guys aren’t about to help you

Not talking about them

Then who ?

Don’t ask something you might regret »

Before you could ask anything, you saw some big dark hole coming right besides Hon’ boy. The fact that he didn’t seem scared or even surprised should give you any clues about who he truly was, but still you tried to catch him before he walked through it, screaming « wait » your hand was so closed and yet so far. The last thing you saw was him looking at you right into your eyes before vanishing. In a blink of an eye it was as if nothing happened, you felt quite dumb for laying here on the floor. Helping a man without knowing who he was, he could have been dangerous but you couldn’t careless. Something about him really mesmerized you. Maybe was it love maybe were you just desperate. Anyway, it wasn’t like you could do much about it so you just stood up and walked into your house hoping everything would be fine. Hoping you won’t regret what you’ve done.

You couldn’t be more wrong. Since you helped that man you started to feel strange a bit dizzy sometimes too. As if someone was watching you, stalking you, checking you. Even in your own house you started to feel as if someone was watching you. At first you thought you were being paranoid, you’ve been in your city since a long time and you have never been attacked before. But still, something was definitely wrong but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. So you just let it go.

The truth is, since the day you met Tomura he never stopped thinking about you. At first, he was scoffing at the memory of you trying to be buddy with him, then he remembered how careful you were with him even when you were trying to take those glasses away from his body. You always worked hard to not hurt him. He loved the way you seemed to acknowledge him while he has difficulty to do it himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were covering from his blood as you were taking care of him, how you smiled when he cracked some jokes (even if he was deadly serious when he talked to you). And then he started to dream about you especially the way you touched him, how soft you fingers was against his dry skin, how sweet your voice sounded even during such a terrible situation. Before he could even noticed, Tomura was addicted to you and he needed more interaction with you. He craved for it, he felt like if he didn’t he might go crazy (as if he wasn’t crazy enough). So yeah, maybe some nights he went into your house (how did he find where you live is a mystery), he may install some cameras on areas he was sure he won’t notice. Without noticing, you give him more information than he needed to find you. But he wanted to do it smoothly or he might scare you, even if the idea of kidnapping you was stuck in his minds, Tomura knew he would be more than useful to persuade you to join him. He could torture you if you needed it but he believed he won’t have to do it judging by the way you looked at him.

So he started to stalk you to own as many informations as he needed : your schedule, your friends, who could be an obstacle , etc. Anything that might help him getting close to you. His plan was simple : making you fall in love with him or at least being important to your life, to the point you couldn’t think on leaving him. At some points he might need some dirty information about you anything that he could use against you (without noticing if course even if the prospect of kidnapping you was still an option to him). Honestly they were nothing he won’t do for you. Quite quickly he got some habits with you, every week at least once a week, he met you in the same spot you two have met the very first time. He was always seeing you at the same place, pretending suffering from something. And you being the nice little nurse you were, you couldn’t leave that poor boy so you took him in your house because it was more convenient for you (you thought, but he did everything to force you to take him on your house). And this, is how you fall into hell began.

After seeing him so many times, you started to develop some feelings for him. Sure the man wasn’t what you could call attractive (even if you really appreciate his hair curled) but you couldn’t help but find him handsome. There were something about him, maybe that aura who irradiate from his body, the way he acted so dominant and yet sometimes so breakable as if you could hurt him by just touching him. His voice too, you couldn’t count how many you dreamt about it, the way he would talk to you, how your body would respond at his whisper ; and his hands for an odd reason you never stopped dreaming about them : would he put it on your throat while fucking you ? Would be that kind of man who grabbed your hips until bruised them ? How would they feel on your cheeks ? Days after days you were dreaming about him, lusting about him and sometimes you were day dreaming about dating him : would he love cuddling you while looking a movie ? Was he the type of man who laid on the couch so you couldn’t use him as a pillow ? But, you weren’t idiot, you knew the man was troubled you read the newspaper you heard about him on the TV. He was a part of the groups of people who worked against hero, what was their name again ? Yeah, the League of villains. Sounds really cool. At this time you knew it, you were addict to him.

He was a dangerous man, he could kill you in a minute if he wanted too ; but he never did and you couldn’t explain why but you knew he would never hurt you. What « bothered » you, is the fact that you couldn’t really catch him : the man was unpredictable every time you thought you started to understand him he did something that surprised you. For exemple, the night you finally let him going into your house, even if you knew that could be dangerous, you thought he would just sat down while you were taking care of him. And for a couple of minutes that’s what he thought, after being stitched he puts his hand on your shoulder (you were afraid you might start to decay but he put 4 fingers on your arm) and the next thing you knew you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was very deep, as he was starving and was finally able to eat properly. Your bottom lips was between his teeth as he was bitting it softly just enough to make you moan so his tongue could find a way into your mouth. Not knowing what to do you, you just closed you eyes while your arms was around his neck, one of your hand stroking his hair ; when it came to him, his hand on your shoulder never moved but his other find his way into your back putting you against his body. His tongue never stopped moving, it first explored your mouth and then found your tongue starting a movement : up and down against yours as if to mimic the movement of his hips against yours. Just when your body started to move against his, Tomura’s lip left yours, the kiss last couple of minutes but you were already a blushing mess : He took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him and then swept with the back of his hand the saliva from his mouth. He didn’t mean to kiss you, but the smell of your perfume, your slight touch on his body was enough to trigger his dark instinct, in fact he didn’t think, he just let his body do what he has to do and it felt amazing. The feeling of your tongue against his, your hand on his hair, your chest against his, everything felt far too good and he knew they weren’t turning back. He wanted to own you, your body and your spirit everything from you should be his. But it was soon, far too soon to take you. For now, he needed a motive something would make you loose your mind. Cause for now you were too aware, you wanted to help him but he knew you didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame you, after all he did a lot of things and was about to do a lot of more. He needed you by his side, but you won’t do something like this, not when you have so many things to lose. Tomura will work on that, he already knew how to do it. He is about to put you into a situation where all you could do was following him.

Before that, he would taste you a little longer just because he wanted to. So he did, for a couple of days he just walked into the same spot claiming he needed to be taking care of, while all he did was making out with you. You won’t complain about it, you’ve been daydreaming about it a lot while touching yourself lately (he knew it thanks to his camera), so he knew he could touch you easily. But that would be too easy. He knew he had to wait until he could make his plan. That didn’t stop him from visiting you during your night, using kurogiri’s power to go into your room, sometimes it was just to see you sleep, sometimes he would stroke your hair. But then, he started to steal some of your things like a pantie, sometimes you swore you felt someone into your bed moving against you (it was him hugging you from behind, taking advantage of it to smell your perfume). It was enough, he wanted you by his side and he wanted it now : his plan was about to begin.

One day, you found Tomura at the same spot than before. Knowing that his bruises were just an excuse to see you, you weren’t that scared when you found him laying on the floor. You did start to freak out when you noticed the blood coming from his body. That couldn’t be … He couldn’t be dead. Running as if you life depend on it, you quickly catch the small figure of your beloved. His face pale far too pale than usual, his breath was slow as if he was struggling to breath, you were looking for any cut but you find nothing : he only had bruised all over his body. Tears were rolling into your chest, as you were looking for any sign that Tomura was alive. You blamed yourself for feeling so overwhelmed, for fuck sake you were a training nurse you should get that. But still you were far too afraid by the thought of loosing him.

« Tomu’ can you hear me ? I need to know what happen, I can’t find any cut on your body

I-I was looking for you but those men wouldn’t let me go … They said I was dangerous to you, I should leave you … Before I could realize they beat the shit out of me

What men ?

Those one who live on the same building as yours »

It was as if your mind was shutting down. You couldn’t think your body did all the work. You asked Tomura if he knew where they were going and then you took him into your apartment, you took care of his bruise and asked him to wait for you. He acted like he was shocked (but in truth he was turned on by your change of behavior and couldn’t wait to see what you’re going to do). Then you walked. Again, you couldn’t think about the situation you just walked into those bastards, those one who thought they could hurt your beloved. You hated them, you never hate anyone until now. They need to pay for what they’ve done, and they will. You started to walk quickly as you remembered when those bastard used to chill, some empty garden.

Good you thought

Streching your body just a little bit, you started to walk slowly trying to not make any sounds. Your quirk gave us the ability of creating any weapon as long as you did experienced the shape of it. You were lucky, living into a shithole full of thugs and working as a nurse give you plenty of shape you were more than happy to use against those bastards. Crouching your body, you walked slowly behind threes counting your target : 1,2,3 … 8. There were 8 brassards who’re going to die tonight. You walked into the first one, it was smoking peacefully as if it didn’t beat Tomura couple hour ago. Shink, using your quirk you were able to create one knife, and use it to cut his neck right into his carotid artery, one of your hand was into his mouth to shut him. Then you walked into the second one, it was standing probably trying to pee. Shink, your knife went right into his chest, again, again and again, eight times to be exact while your other hand was again on his mouth so he won’t make any noise. Only six left. Number 3 and 4 were killed quite easily, you used your quirk to create a sword so you could behead number 3 and then cut both of number 4 legs. Unfortunately it screamed too loud, but that’s okay you could manage 4 targets.

« Y/n what are you doing here ?

What does it look like ?

Y-You can’t be serious right ? Why do you do that ?

You hurt someone I cared about you need to pay for that

What ? N-No we never - Eh put that thing down OI -»

Number four couldn’t talk anymore as you slide your sword right into his mouth, slowly so he could go through his head. You were looking right into those 4 targets left, they were shocked, some of them are scared but you couldn’t careless. They’re going to pay. So you ran into them, creating two swords fighting against us. Fortunately, the garden wasn’t very lit so they weren’t seeing you like they waned to. But you, you were used to darkness you could see it at least you saw more than them. Two of them died because of a cut on their neck, they emptied themselves from their blood. Only two left. Quickly not giving them time to adjust, you cut number 7’s legs and started to work with number 8. He was tough, really big, you couldn’t just cut him. Instead you focused on something really sharpe, but no one every hurt with something like an axe. You had no choice but fight him, trying to cut every sinew so his body would fall easily. Then when he was on the ground, not able to move, you start to beat him with your hand : one puch, two punch, again and again. At this time, his face was absolutely crushed but it wasn’t enough. You took your knife, looking at the whole mess, and then started to cut his Chest until your hand could go through looking for something in particular. Then you grabbed it and took it away from his body, you could hear number seven screaming : you took number 8’s heart and process to squeeze it.

« Pathetic

W-Why are you doing that, I’m sorry I didn’t want to hurt you

Hurt me ? You’ve never done something of that sort

But why ?

Like I said you hurt Tomura

But he is one who as-

Shh there no need to talk

They will know … someone would know

Oh yeah ? Dead people can’t talk I’m afraid »

With that, you put one hand on number seven’s neck and squeeze it while putting number 8’s heart in his mouth to suffocate him. It took you 5 minute to shut him down for good. Then you stand up, your body full of blood, surrounded by dead people. You smiled, they finally paid. Tomura was here not far away from you, looking at you. He won’t lie, he found you very hot, and was glad he asked those idiots to hurt him. Couple of bruises some cash were nothing in comparison of what you’ve done. It was worth it.

Then you woke up, or at least you felt as if you were waking up from a weird dream : those one when you felt as if you were aware of everything but at the same time you knew you were in dream ; except you weren’t dreaming. Judging by those bodies laying on the floor covered with bloods, their bloods. You did it, you actually murdered all of them, but they deserved it right ? They hurt your precious one, they hurt him for no reason so they had to learn a lesson and they did, the worst way. Slightly you started to feel it, your body was shaking adrenaline was gone by now. And you realized, you killed them you took life from people. Asshole. They deserve it. They hurt what was yours. Slowly, as you were clearing your mind your body decided to work on his own and you throw. As if your body rejected this action, but they did deserve it right ? You shouldn’t throwing right know, you shouldn’t crying, shouldn’t shaking while wishing everything was just a bad nightmare. They were bad people they deserved it.

Your body was now covering with blood, your hands, your clothes even your bones their no inch of your skin who weren’t covered with blood : their bloods. You killed those mans. One look at your left hand, the one who took the heart away from one of those man, you swore you could still feel the heart on your hand. You could feel it, it was sticky, though but soft at the same time especially when you squeeze it. It was sick, you were sick. Then, you heard it, some footsteps coming right into your direction : you thought it was hero or the police; but your weren’t afraid in fact you were pretty calm despite the tears rolling into your face, you felt relax as if killing those people triggered something in you. Were you a psychopath ? Were you calm because to you those kills were justified ? Someone was walking into your direction and then stop right in front of you : it was him.

« Tomu ? »

Your whole body starting to shake, would he be disgusted by you ? After all he never asked you to kill those men. Would he leave you on your own ? Without noticing you were by now on your knees looking at his figure, it seemed like god was now in front of you. Not noticing the huge bulge in front of you, you were far too focused on him. He was glooming. He said nothing, he was just looking at you smirking : this went far from his expectative and to be honest he never felt so proud of himself. Seeing you killing those man, beating the shit out of them, again and again, your body and your curve covered from blood, your eyes full of rage and anger, the fact that you did everything because of him. He couldn’t help but feel turned on. You were by far his bigger achievement. Tomura kneeled down in front of you, still not saying a single word his smirk never left his lips but you didn’t notice. You were focusing on his eyes, his expression looking for anything that would prove his disgust. But you found nothing. Instead, you felt his hand on your cheeks stroking it with four of his fingers and then he put it on your shoulder.

As the first time you two have kissed, he pulled you against his body but this time he moved you on his laps. Then he started to kiss your face, especially your cheeks wet from your tears and then moving from your lips. He gave you the same hungry kiss you got the first time. Again and again, his hands were moving from your hips to under your shirt, slowly taking of your clothes. You bare skin was now in front of his eyes, as he started to kiss your jaw and then slowly moving into your neck finding your sweet spot : kissing it, bitting it. Turning on by your softly moan coming from your mouth, you shouldn’t do it but you couldn’t help but being turned on. His lips went now into your chest, giving the same treatment as before : kissing it slowly, bitting it and then licking it. Your hand not moving from his hair, your eyes shut by the pleasure growing up into your stomach.

« Dont

What ?

You hear me don’t you dare close your eyes, I want you to look at me »

So you did, but it was a struggle especially when Tomura took one of your nipple into his mouth to suck it as if his life depends on it. Your eyes moved everywhere, despite the grim scene in front of you : fulls of dead bodies, the smell of blood everywhere you couldn’t help but feeling even more turned on. After all you did it, your body was immaculate from their blood or so you thought. Though, you never felt so pure before, probably because Tomura was kissing each part of your body. Busy by your whole body being pleasured, you didn’t notice that you went now fully naked laying on the blood. You should be disgusted cause your back was covered from blood, but no, the sight of Tomura bitting your tight was too hot for you and when he moved into your intimate part you thought you would collapse. Everything felt so good, far too good you even started to cry. Shouldn’t you be crying from what you’ve done instead of the pleasure you got from Tomura ? Your brain couldn’t process what’s happening, but you couldn’t careless not when Tomura was giving licking at your sex, not when was giving you the attention you ever craved in your dream. Pleasure was began far too intense for you and you felt yourself coming, screaming, crying his name while he never stopped pleasuring you. And then again, you found yourself on his lap and before you could even react he was fully inside of you.

« That’s it… God you take me so well »

He started to move, he started to thrust into you so deeply. Fucking you on his lap, surrounding by bloods, organs, and dead bodies ; the sight of you riding him, crying from pleasure was a pure bliss. He wished he could last forever but pleasure had a cost. He quickened his pace, he tried to be deeper, trying to take every inch of you. But he knew what’s about to come, and he couldn’t wait to impregnate you. Then, your head threw back as you were finally reaching heaven. The sight was enough to make Tomura come right into you but not before bitting your neck one last time. Magic. That’s what both of you felt.

When you were waking up from your bliss, you looked at Tomura your body now starting to shake again. How could have this happen ? Having sex here ? Into the place you murdered people hours ago ? Making love while you were surrounded by dead people ? Why are you smiling ? You shouldn’t do. But couldn’t contain yourself.

« You’re a monster Y/N »

Your breath hitched at the meaning of his word, that was true. You were a monster, you killed those peoples for no reasons, you gave in your urge and fuck with someone you should stay away from. Worst, you even fell in love with him and now you were afraid he might leave you. As if he could hear your thought, his hand went on your cheek forcing you to look right into his eyes. Again, you weren’t able to read his expression and it scared you.

« But that’s okay cause I’m monster too »

Relief went through your body, so he won’t leave you. You felt your smile being even bigger.

« You’re my monster Y/N you better remember that »

Nothing mattered to you, as long as you were with Tomura nothing could go wrong … Right ? In the end, he was what you always looking for or so you thought. You never felt so full and yet so empty. Finally someone could understand you, nothing mattered to you except Tomura, no emotions, no ethical, just you and Tomura. That’s all you need to live.

The end.

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faewhump · 4 years

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Unseelie Pet: 18. Chapter

Although Alex successfully managed to escape the Court, things aren’t going too well for him.

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Content warnings: death threats, beating, broken bones, blood, victim blaming, victim self-blame

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @galaxywhump @whumpsideblog @slaintetowhump @thewhiteraven73 @frnkieroismydaddy @u-n-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l @insanitywishes

“Darerca? What – what are you doing here?” Alex stammered and took half a step backwards. He was in shock, he hadn’t expected her, but from the way she’d greeted him it appeared that she’d been expecting him…

“You mean why aren’t I at the Court meeting?” Her grin widened, and she slowly walked closer. “Because I was waiting for you, idiot.”

“What? Why? How did you – “

“How did I know you’d be coming?” she interrupted. “Well, who did you think deposited that handy iron for you?”

Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait – you did that? Why? Are you – are you trying to help me?” It seemed unbelievable, Darerca had always hated him, she’d been one of Rían’s vassals that had enjoyed torturing him the most. So why would she help him escape now? Hadn’t she gloated about his humiliation just a short while ago?

“Help you?” She laughed. “Oh, you are too cute – This isn’t a rescue mission, stupid, it’s a trap. Your little escape attempt ends here, because I am going to kill you.”

Fear rose in Alex, his feet felt frozen in place when he realised the dreadful mistake he’d made. The iron nail, the Court meeting – everything had been too perfect, but not because of luck, but because Darerca had carefully planned it that way. He’d been so blinded by the possibility of escape that he’d run straight into her trap.

“What, kill me just so?” Alex asked, trying to stall for time while he fervently searched for a way out. “Didn’t you say last time that you wanted to torture me as punishment for running away? Why the change of heart now?”

Darerca tsked. “I’m going to kill you, but no one said it would be fast or painless.” She continued to stalk closer, her powerful claws bared and prepared to strike.

Alex stepped further backwards and threw a look over his shoulder, quickly calculating his chances of survival if he chose to run. Unfortunately, they seemed to be close to zero, the faerie would easily outrun him before he reached the palace. And even if he somehow made it back, there probably wouldn’t be a way to keep Malachi from finding out what had happened, and in that case Malachi might as well be the one who ended up killing him after all.

Sometimes the best defence lies in attack, Alex thought and grimly gripped the iron nail tighter. Then, before Darerca noticed his change of tactics, he suddenly darted towards her and aimed for the heart. She shouted in surprise and tried to evade him but wasn’t fast enough, Alex threw himself against her with all his weight and tried not to recoil from the sickening sensation of the nail sliding deep into her left shoulder. Darerca screamed.

Her hand slammed against Alex’s head, the force of the strike threw him to the ground and the sharp nails left deep scratches. She pulled the now bloody nail out of her shoulder, swearing loudly at the pain, while Alex tried to scramble back to his feet. His head swam, and he could feel the blood dripping from the burning scratches. Finally, he managed to stand up and turned to run.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Darerca hissed, and moving faster than it should be possible she grabbed his arm, yanked him back and drove her fist into his stomach.

Alex’s breath left him in a rush, and he gasped, his middle exploded in pain, and he was unable to gather himself before she punched him again. He doubled over, helplessly holding his stomach in an attempt to protect it, leaving a wide opening for Darerca to aim at his head instead. One of her curled horns connected with his skull as she headbutted him, and Alex’s vision blacked out for a moment. When he came back to his senses he was lying on the forest floor, his head throbbed, and his stomach ached.

“You obnoxious human, how dare you attack me?” Darerca spat, anger contorting her voice. Alex got to his hands and knees in an attempt to stand up, but she kicked him over onto his back.

“You always were this audacious, never knew your proper place!” She stomped down on his chest with her goat like hoof, and Alex’s scream drowned out the crack of his ribs. He curled onto his side, unable to stop the flow of hot tears streaming from his eyes and cried out when she kicked him again.

“And yet Rían liked you somehow, even after you betrayed him he continued to favour you!” More merciless kicks and blows rained down on Alex, he gave up on trying to stand up and just curled himself into a ball in an attempt to protect his vulnerable stomach and head. “When I saw you as Malachi’s pet I thought justice was finally being served, but apparently he coddles you too!”

A particularly hard kick to his legs sprained one of Alex’s ankles.

“I don’t get it, what is it that they like about you? You’re just a worthless human, stupid, slow and weak, nothing special, and yet Rían favoured you over me! Me, who has been his loyal vassal for much longer than you’ve even been alive, who always followed his orders and stayed by his side, and yet! He prefers some stray human without manners, even though it’s worthless!” she shouted, driving her hoof into Alex’s flank. “Do you hear me? You’re worthless!”

Alex shrieked at the sharp, stunning pain, a detached part of him deducing that she must have hit his kidney. His entire body was filled with agony, he didn’t even know how many bones were broken already, nor how long this would go on before she had kicked him to death. There was no way he could escape this, there was nothing he could do to fight her, he had no chance…

“M-Malachi,” Alex whimpered, deeply wishing for the Fae to come and save him. “Malachi, please!”

Darerca laughed. “What, do you really think he would take you back now?” she sneered and yanked him up by the hair. “After you tried to run? Don’t you know he killed his last pet after it tried that?”

Alex’s screams reached a new height as his nose shattered under her fist in searing white pain, and she didn’t give him any time to collect himself before punching him across the jaw. Then she threw him back to the ground and continued kicking him mercilessly, shouting abuse and threats that didn’t register to him through his agony. He had no sense of time as his world was purely dominated by pain, blacking out occasionally just to come back without much relief.

The agony was so all-encompassing that he didn’t even notice when the kicks stopped. There was a flurry of motion and noises around, but Alex was unable to make sense of it, when suddenly he felt something lifting him up. He cried out at the pain the movement caused, his broken ribs screamed at the strain it put on them.

“Shhh, pet, it’s alright,” a soothing voice murmured as strong arms cradled his body carefully.

“Malachi,” Alex groaned, relief rushed through him and he weakly twisted his fingers into the fabric of the Fae’s clothes.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Malachi said reassuringly. “You’re safe now.”

Something jostled Alex, and he thought he heard the low buzz of wings at the edge of his perception. Still crying and sobbing from both pain and relief he clung to Malachi, unwilling to ever let him go again. He didn’t notice where they were going, all he knew was that he eventually was placed down on something soft, and he whined when Malachi let him go. He was alone and then he wasn’t, a gentle female voice was there and then suddenly the pain stopped.

When he eventually opened his eyes he saw an embroidered baldachin above and slowly realised that he was back in his bed. He was safe. Tears welled up into his eyes when he remembered what had happened, he’d been so stupid and had fallen for Darerca’s trap, she’d almost kicked and beaten him to death before Malachi had saved him.

Malachi. He turned his head and there he was, Malachi was here, and he was safe. Whimpering Alex stretched out his arms, it didn’t hurt anymore, but he was in shock and wanted nothing more than for the Fae to comfort him. However, Malachi did not react. The expression on his face held none of its usual fondness and was purely one of anger and disappointment.

“So,” Malachi said coldly. “You tried to run away from me again.”

Alex’s eyes widened, and he realised that he had messed up, Malachi was angry, and it was his fault.

What, do you really think he would take you back now?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry,” he babbled and began to cry. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, please, I know and I’m so sorry.”

“If you already knew, then why did you do it anyways?” Malachi asked dispassionately.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I didn’t really want to, but I thought I had to, I’m sorry.” He grabbed onto Malachi’s coat, pulling himself closer. “I – I felt that if I didn’t do it now, I never would, and that it was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t, I’m sorry –“

“No, it truly wasn’t the right thing to do, and not only because it was nothing but a trap and you almost got yourself killed. If one of my servants hadn’t had the presence of mind to alert me to your flight, it would have been too late.”

“Th-thank – thank you f-for saving me,” Alex sobbed, the disappointment in Malachi’s voice was killing him.

“You’re welcome, pet, although I am not sure whether you actually deserve it,” Malachi said flatly and stood up. “You were very, very bad, and I am quite upset. Angry, yes, but mostly disappointed and betrayed. Since you apparently long to be away from me, I will follow your wishes and leave you alone so that you can think about your opinions and actions without distractions.”

“No!” Alex chocked, desperately trying to hold on to Malachi. “Please, please don’t leave me, please don’t, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be good, I’m so sorry, I promise –“

If Malachi was moved by Alex’s begging in any way, he didn’t show it. He merely pried Alex’s fingers off his hem, shoved him back onto the bed and turned to leave. Alex kept calling after him, apologising again and again, begging Malachi to please not leave him alone and promising that he would never, ever attempt to escape again. Eventually, he realised that there was no use, Malachi wasn’t coming back, and he dropped back to the bed, curled up and cried.

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Wickedness Must Be Punished || Morgan & Miriam

TIMING: Yesterday evening, after Morgan and Mercy’s confrontation

PARTIES: @meflemming, @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Go, and hunt her, and find her, and kill her...

CONTAINS: mild violence, non-specific discussion of torture

Morgan’s only hope was that Jo would come back to clear out her things before moving on to the next town or trying to find Marina again. Morgan snapped the unit open with her bolt cutters and shined her flashlight inside. Half the shelves were empty, but there were still some valuable items that the witch had to be coming back for. Morgan stuck the cutters back in her bag and inched her way in, casting a glance back at Miriam. “The specimen jars are a dime a dozen, and so are the materials for the right trade, but her failed tests on whatever the fuck she’s trying to acheive...,” she she flashed her light up to the wings and the misshapen skulls. “I think she’ll be back for them. Sooner than later if she’s smart. Should we go outside and wait for her to turn up, or check back at the hotel?”

Looking around the abomination of a laboratory with Morgan, Miriam wrinkled her nose in disgust. This was what spellcasters were. Horrible, wretched people who played with something they could never understand, perverting magic to their own whims and using it to harm others. She picked up a jar filled with eyes before setting it back down, a frown on her face. She felt her the color in her eyes bleed from green to red and had to shut them tightly. When she got her hands on the witch bitch that did this, Miriam would make sure she knew what it was like to suffer. Just like she’d made all these people suffer. “We should go outside and wait. You’re absolutely right. These are her prizes, her research. She won’t simply leave it behind. She can’t. I’m quite sure of it.”

“Yeah, she was uh, pretty proud of it the last time we were here,” Morgan said. “Does this mean you spend a lot of time thinking about the mind habits of witches? Are you suddenly the witch whisperer all of a sudden?” She backed away, feeling sick all over as she remembered Jo’s offer and the awful color of her blood circle and the way she’d tried to poison Mercy. She had nearly backed out the unit when she saw headlights flash and footsteps outside. “Shit,” she hissed, and turned off her flashlight. There was nowhere to go, no escape route where they wouldn’t instantly be seen. “Shit, shit…”

“Oh, fuck this.” Jo Muscgraves took one look at her storage unit and knew it wasn’t worth it. Years of gathering samples and cataloguing her finding, years of experiments, of trouble, of cleaning the blood out of different floors, all down the drain. This was more than a stupid setbak, this was tanking her life’s work. But if she tried to fight for it now, she was a dead woman. She turned on her heel and started running just the way she’d come.

“Of course she was. Bitch,” Miriam practically snarled out. Just like a witch to be proud of all of this. Crimes against living creatures like this was truly wretched, and Miriam wanted to do nothing more than make this woman pay. “Sometimes, dearest, I have to do the unthinkable and get inside a little witch’s head. Find out what makes them tick.” She winked. “I like to think I’ve got a way with witches, yes. I thought you were aware of this by now.” She’d only barely gotten the words out of her mouth before she heard the sound of footsteps fleeing the storage unit. “Fuck me,” Miriam groaned. She gave chase, her vampiric speed allowing her to catch up to and launch herself in front of the fleeing woman. Miriam planted her heels in the ground and put her hands on the woman’s shoulders. She gave a smile that her mother had once called breathtaking in the saddest tone of voice, and she cheerily said. “Oh, I don’t think so, darling. Jo, was it? Correct me if I’m wrong, though. I really hate being wrong.”

Jo wriggled in the woman’s grasp. She was still drained from the last encounter, focusing more on getting out of town fast before Marina organized her retaliation than she did on getting through another fight. She had been stupid, no better than an amateur. “Like hell I’m telling you anything,” she hissed, and struck out, kicking the woman in the kidneys and reaching for her face. A little burn might buy her some time but-- “Fuck!”

Morgan swung the heavy flashlight against Jo’s head again. Knocking someone out with a little blunt force trauma looked a hell of a lot easier in the movies. Jo didn’t collapse into a heavy sleep this time, but a heavy dent caved into her skull and she stumbled, eyes rolling strangely as she tried to keep her bearings. “Oh, it’s her,” Morgan said. “Trust me. So, uh, we should probably get her out of here while she’s out of it, right?”

Growling at the blow to her side but otherwise not moving, Miriam shifted a bit as the woman stumbled before grabbing her by the wrists and pulling them tightly behind her back. She looked at Morgan. “Thank you.” She had no idea that flashlights were such formidable weapons. “You’re right, of course. Though…” Miriam’s eyes glinted wickedly as she gave Morgan a grin. “Wouldn’t it just be a shame if our new friend here were to see her research get laid to ruin?” She tightened her grip around Jo’s wrists, careful to avoid her hands. Though, if she was as powerful as she thought she was, Jo would likely have no problem burning Miriam through the skin to skin contact, but the witch hunter was not concerned. She was in control here, and she had plans to feed well.

Morgan quirked an interested brow at Miriam’s suggestion. “I didn’t think you’d be so thoughtful, but alright. And, just so you know, I’d hardly say you had my head all figured out. Not all casters are the same, and I distinctly remember something about surprising you.” Nevertheless, she went over to the storage unit and started knocking every jar from the shelf. When that was done she went for the worktable, scraping all the tools against the wood, sending splinters flying. It was one of those drafting tables with a compartment underneath and Morgan flipped it open with ease, dumping all the papers and flash drives onto the ground. Those, she took special care to crush under her foot. She took a look at the framed wings on the wall and lifted them off their hook. “I think I’ll keep these as a parting gift, if that’s okay with you, Jo. For all the good times. Ooh, and some of these teeth...and these...flipping Universe, nail clippings? And people think I’m weird.”

Jo could not see straight, but she didn’t need all her faculties in order to know what was happening. She strained against the cold, undead grip around her wrists and tried in vain to lurch forward. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know the advancements, the cures, people’s hopes are in those!”

“I do, on occasion, have very thoughtful ideas,” Miriam said, teasingly. She rolled her eyes. “I suppose you surprised me a bit, darling, but I believe you’re the exception to the rule.” As Jo struggled, Miriam held her tighter and twisted a bit, reveling in the other woman’s pain and panic. “If you struggle,” she purred, leaning close to the woman’s ear, “I will make this so much worse.” She watched As Morgan began tearing apart the storage unit, grinning as the little witch had to bear witness to the destruction of what she saw as her livelihood. “You haven’t brought any sort of hope, Jo. All you’ve done is bring about destruction, pain. When we’re done, darling, all of your supposed advancements and cures will be nothing. You will be nothing. No one will care to remember your work or your face or your name.” Again, she twisted Jo’s wrists.

Morgan knocked the last of the samples over and went to tearing up pages she’d scattered by the handful and crushing all the little flash drives under her foot. “Gosh, I really hope that was special,” she said, watching Jo’s face twitch as one crunched in particular. She came over to the woman, grimacing as she saw her own horrified fascination mirrored back. “I just want you to know from the bottom of my heart, before things get dicier, that this isn’t because you’re a witch, Jo. It’s because you rolled into this town and you slaughtered a nineteen year old fae and dumped whatever you were through with in the trash where I could find her. I’ve talked with the fae about this, and they say it’s custom for assholes like you to be tortured. Tortured until you’re way past anything you inflicted on Coraline Adams.” She reached for the chain around Jo’s neck and ripped it free from her. A vial amulet with sand for transmutation. Of fucking course. “Torture’s not really my department of expertise, but I promise, I’ve brought in an expert. Just for you.” She backed away, crushing the little vial in her fist.

“I’m the expert, darling,” Miriam said brightly, allowing her eyes to shift to red and her fangs to drop. Maybe this was about the fae for Morgan, all the harm this woman had done to a very proud and secular community for what she deemed to be the good of humankind. Miriam

Felt bad about it, certainly, but, for her, it was because Jo was a witch. Though she had no doubt in her mind that this excuse of a woman would have been cruel and terrible even without magic, magic allowed her to act on those cruelties in ways that no mere human could. Magic was power, and human beings didn’t deserve such powers. “I would like, when your eyes can focus after that lovely knock to the head you received, for you to look at your work, Jo, and I want you to see just how easily it was destroyed. So much work, so much effort, and now it’s just nothing.” Quieter, Miriam leaned in a bit more, her mouth near the witch’s ear. Her fear was palatable, and Miriam enjoyed it for just a moment before she spoke. “I know you because I see you. Wicked and ruined to your core. We’re similar in that respect, you and I, and we’re similar in this respect as well: no one will remember our names. But do you know what they will remember? I am a witch hunter, and you, my dear, are nothing more than prey. I take great pleasure in the assurance that you truly deserve what’s coming to you.”

Jo wriggled away from the vampire’s touch as much as she could. She lurched forwards, muscles straining, bones tight in their sockets. “You selfish pigs!” She cried. “You’re just stupid, murderous pigs!” She strained against the vampire again, kicking and flailing out with her legs until she lost her balance and sunk to her knees. There was another crack of bone on the impact. “You don’t understand, you can’t even begin to understand…The world is a better place without those animals in it, even before I balanced them in the universe with my work. But why should you care about balancing harm? You’re one of them.” She spat at Morgan and the wad of saliva landed on her shoe.

Morgan watched, her face empty except for her furrowed brow. Jo’s words prickled with their familiarity and desperate earnestness. She understood a lot more than the witch reckoned from her, she just didn’t see how this idea crossed into murdering young girls or stockpiling remains for her alchemy lab. How one human could excuse so many dead fae, wolves, and undead. “I understand enough,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Enough of this.” Fighting wasn’t Miriam’s strong suit; she much preferred the lure and trap methods of hunting. However, she knew how to knock someone out, and knock Jo out she did. She couldn’t stand to hear the other woman ramble any longer. And it was just rambling, that was all, no matter how similar it sounded to her own ideals. Miriam took Jo under the arms as the other woman began to drop, and she looked at Morgan with a raised eyebrow. “Rude little thing, wasn’t she?” She looked down at the witch in her arms. It was impossible to tell that she was a witch. She just seemed like a normal, unconscious human. Miriam used to try and convince herself that she could sense the magic in witches, that she inherently knew who was what. Of course, she knew better, now, but sometimes she still tried to cling to that, even if it was just in her head. Not tonight, though. “You don’t have to try to understand her, Morgan,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, there are simply things that cannot, and should not, be understood.”

Morgan watched Miriam dispatch her work with cold, practiced ease. She jumped back, startled by how swift it all happened. “Yeah. She’s...something alright.” Knocked out, Jo didn’t look like much, a realization that made her skin crawl. She knew plenty of heartless people who looked harmless on the surface, but no one who had done anything so horrible as Jo. Looking up, she wondered if she should count Miriam in that camp as well, or if her hurt, her species, made her different. Better. “People have their reasons for what they do, don’t they? Even if they’re delusional or psychotic--” But Jo had been convinced she was helping. That she could transmute a cure for normalcy on the backs of tortured supernaturals. “What are you going to do to her?”

“She’s nothing, really. She’s not worth your time.” Miriam started moving the unconscious woman out of the storage unit and away, back to where she’d parked the car. “People have reasons for doing terrible things, certainly. However, you must always remember that a terrible thing is still a terrible thing.” She gave Morgan a wink, though there wasn’t much feeling behind it. “Take it from someone you know that does terrible things on a regular basis.” There were those out there that would look at Jo and then look at Miriam and see two sides of the same coin. Perhaps they were. Except Miriam hadn’t deluded herself into thinking that what she did wasn’t killing. She killed, slaughtered, destroyed, all on a regular basis. There were no other words for what she did. She was big enough to acknowledge them, to see them for what they were, and to continue down her path because there was a part of her, too large to ignore, that told her she must. “Well, I suppose I’ll take her back to my house. She should last me a few days, and feeding off someone like her will keep me full for some time.” She looked at the zombie and cocked her head. “You’re welcome to the scraps, if you want them.”

Morgan grimaced as she followed Miram to the car. She didn’t like feeding on humans as a first resort because she didn’t like other brains, other selves, sloshing around when on some days there was already so little of herself. She didn’t want Jo touching anything inside her. It was bothersome enough that she claimed to believe in the same things Morgan did. “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t want to know what someone like that tastes like.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, did you say days?” She thought back to the bloodstains on the floor of the wine cellar, the arc of the splatter in some places. There were no rusty knives or tainted bats, what little she understood of Miriam suggested cleanliness, or personalness, to her mind. A clean blade; a bloody, broken nail.

Letting Jo’s body drop to the ground, Miriam unlocked the trunk to her car. Not an enjoyable place to wake up, but, then again, Miriam had no desire to make Jo’s experience enjoyable or pleasant in anyway. “Suit yourself, dearest. But, truly, evil doesn’t taste bad.” She hefted Jo’s body into the trunk and slammed it closed, leaning against the back of the car. “Several days, yes. I’m not particularly interested in her blood. I feed on more than that. So, I’ll spend several days with her, we’ll get to know each other a bit better, and then, when she’s adequately paid for the things she’s done, I’ll put her out of her misery.” She crossed her arms, loosely. “Does this work for you? I assumed that you wanted me to help you with this because you know what I’m capable of.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to feel their personality inside you,” Morgan grumbled. She watched Jo loaded into the car like unwanted luggage, something you hauled with resentment like a shoddy microwave. The lid closed, drawing darkness over the scene. The sheer amount of time Miriam described was enough to spend her head turning. “You don’t have to put her out of her misery when you kill her,” Morgan said at last, still staring at the trunk of the car. “If she needs a day or two to get some feeling back in her senses so she can recognize pain again when you do it, by all means. I want it to hurt, right to the very end.” She let out a long breath, just so the concentration would take her mind away from the tension in her nerves. “And yes. I asked you here because you’re an expert. You’re going to live up to your hype, right?”

“That’s really a thing?” Huh. That was new to Miriam. Though, in her defense, undead things weren’t her area of expertise. “Oh, I don’t?” she asked. Impressed by Morgan’s ability to speak the words out loud. She laughed, the sound low in her throat. “It’s less about ending her misery and more about ending my boredom. Playing with your food for too long is only fun for a few days. I promise you, there won’t be more than a moment where she is not completely miserable and in pain. I rarely let my prey pass easily.” There was a feeling in the pit of Miriam’s stomach over the knowledge that, for as long as she walked the earth, she would be more known for her sins than her virtues. At least she looked good no matter what. “Dearest,” she said with a fanged smile. “I live up to the hype and then some.”

#wr miriam #wr chatzy #wr miriam chatzy #wickedness must be punished #wr #wickedswriting

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bluesfortheredj · 4 years

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A Beautiful Mistake Chapter 18.

The two of you walk through the gates with beaming faces, your arm linked through his as you rest your cheek on his shoulder, but your joy soon turns to concern as you see the crowds that had gathered in the middle of the settlement, and the pained cries that call out after the sound of leather against skin make you wince each time you hear them. Samuel’s free hand comes up and holds your face against his arm to prevent you from seeing anything, but Redwick is quick to spot the two of you and halt you in your tracks.

“You’re missing it! Come with me, I’ll take you to the front of the crowd!” he declares, grabbing Samuel’s arm and dragging you both through the throng of people.

“I thought this would start tomorrow,” Samuel states to a joyous Marshal.

“There’s no time like the present dear Samuel! Don’t you want to see the man behind your dear wife’s attack punished? And Mistress Castell, do you not want to see him get what he deserves for launching such an atrocious man upon you? What if it had gone awry and he had not intervened in time? You could be dead.”

You look up at Samuel, unable to turn to face the source of the anguished groans coming from only a short distance away, but Redwick walks around to you and forcefully turns your head to meet James’ pleading gaze which is directed straight at you; the Marshal’s large fingers hurting your jaw as he holds you in place.

“Let her go!” Samuel snaps, then quickly pulls you away from everyone and through the crowd back to your house where Mercy waits on the step with tears in her eyes.

“Oh Mercy,” you sigh, “come inside, don’t listen to what’s happening dear girl.”

You skip ahead of Samuel to take her in your arms and lead her back into the dwelling so she can no longer hear the grunts and whips that alternate outside, then sit her down on a chair and make her some tea to ease her fragile mind.

“I’ll do that Mistress Castell, I don’t want to be a bother, you need to rest, I-”

“Mercy, it’s tea,” you smile, “I can manage to make tea.”

Samuel stands with his back against the door as he looks on at you bustling around to make sure Mercy is okay, and his face falls at the spectacle that was happening outside your four walls. Just as you’d received the good news that you wouldn’t be the first couple in Jamestown to give birth, you’re faced with the utterly horrid sight of James facing his punishment earlier than agreed, and Redwick just had to rub your faces in it for his own enjoyment.

“Samuel, you look worried my love,” you frown after handing Mercy her drink.

You place your hands upon his cheeks to focus his distant stare on your eyes and he gives you a half hearted smile as he lifts his arms and takes a hold of yours gently.

“Are you not worried?” he questions quietly.

“Of course I am. James is out there being beaten because of me. How could I not worry? I’m the one who put him in this position, I deserve to be punished for it.”

“No you don’t,” he says, shaking his head from side to side.

“Maybe I do though…” you gasp, realising that maybe if you stood by as witness to what was happening to James, no matter how much it pained you to watch, then maybe you’d be forgiven, “Samuel, I have to see him. If I do this then we could be free from hurt, and our sins would be forgiven.”

“Are you feeling quite well my love?” he asks with concern furrowing his brow.

“I feel as if I need to do this Samuel, do you trust me?”

“Implicitly sweetheart.”

“Then I must go and see him until his punishment is over,” you nod, mostly to yourself.

“(Y/N), I-” Samuel starts, but you’ve already moved past him and slipped out of the gap in the front door before he can get another word out.

You slowly push your way to the front of the crowd, your eyes turned down to the ground as you try and prepare yourself for what you were about to witness, and then when you no longer see feet in front of you, you manage to lift your gaze towards the origin of those awful noises you were hearing. There stood James with his eyes trained on you straight away, his body convulsing each time he’s hit with the whip, and you watch as he tries to mouth something to you.

“Come to see the bad man get what he deserves?” Jocelyn asks smugly from beside you.

“I’ve come to face my own punishment,” you reply softly.

“Your punishment for what?”

“Acting upon unlawful feelings for another man.”

“Ha!” she laughs, “power is what I want, not a man. Samuel was nothing more to me than a step up in the ranks, but he didn’t even have the balls for that so I simply couldn’t live like that anyway.”

“So why the assault in the woods? Why get me to feed you information?”

“I thought it would be a fun little game. I mean, you were in the wrong, but you didn’t have to know that I didn’t care just yet...”

You briefly turn your head to see her haughty expression as she takes in the sight of James being punished with a smile, and you frown as you turn back to the poor man.

“And this was my idea anyway,” she sighs, “such a shame he got found out.”

“What?”

“I told him that to try and steal your affections back he must make a bold statement, save your life or something to make you fall into his arms. It was almost too easy to convince him, he was so desperate for you I actually almost felt sorry for him.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” you scoff, “so who’s your target now then?”

“Dear Christopher seems sweet on me, and as a Doctor he would know more than most when it came to the men who control this settlement. I could use that to my advantage.”

Your eyes convey your worry that he would let slip information about you, but Jocelyn simply waves her hand dismissively and laughs.

“Don’t worry, you and Samuel have done your jobs for me, I only have interest in them now,” she says, nodding towards where Redwick, the Governor, and Farlow, “they hold the key to power.”

“Were you hoping this would happen to James then? To gain the trust of Redwick?”

“Oh, she’s clever, too!” Jocelyn gasps, “of course. I tell James what to do, James gets found out, and the dear Marshal over there gets what he wants… Thanks to me.”

“Congratulations,” you mutter.

“So I wouldn’t worry about punishing yourself by watching James all day, as you have nothing to be punished for. Just look at me, I seem to be doing fine!” she laughs before walking away into the crowd again.

The sound of the whipping suddenly stops as the man carrying out the punishment pauses to change hands and take a sip of water, and you hear James ask if he may have a drop himself but all he receives is a laugh as the man puts a cup just out of reach. You’re quick to run forwards and pick it up so you can tip some moisture into his mouth as you wipe some of the dirt from his sweat covered face with your handkerchief.

“Why did you come back?” he whispers.

“I… don’t know,” you lie, shaking your head and feeling thoroughly stupid.

“Your sweet face is the only thing getting me through this (Y/N), but please leave, go back to Samuel, you must not be witness to such- ah! Go!” he cries as the whipping resumes.

You jump back from him in shock as the punishment suddenly continues and you stand with the crowd, your eyes wandering over to where Jocelyn now stood talking to Marshal Redwick, obviously telling him of her scheming in hopes of forming some sort of alliance so she can further climb the ladder of Jamestown. It all goes awfully though as Redwick laughs in her face while he tells her to leave him alone, and she purses her lips before storming off in a huff, which you can’t help but smile at. A dull ache in your abdomen reminds you that you were already facing some sort of wrath from the powers above, and as your mind wanders to what would happen if you were to die while you back away from the sight of James, you’re suddenly stopped by the Governor’s wife who appears beside you with a breathless pant.

“Mistress Castell,” she breathes rather urgently, “have you heard of Alice Sharrow’s news?!”

“I have!” you beam, “it’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It’s a miracle,” she sighs happily, “the first child of Jamestown! Oh, how the people will love them.”

“It will certainly bring joy to the settlement.”

“And it shouldn’t be too long until you have your own news to share,” she smiles, “family is so very important, and we need to lay our roots down.”

“I’d be honoured to carry Samuel’s child,” you nod, “and to have a family of our own would bring me so much happiness.”

“You look a little pale Mistress Castell, do make sure you’re keeping well especially if you are planning to have a baby. Maybe see Doctor Priestley to make sure everything is okay? How about I come with you?” she suggests, trying to take over your whole body it seems.

“I will make sure I go with Samuel,” you smile as politely as you can muster, “thank you for your concern.”

“Good… good! Have a good day.”

“And you!”

You walk back to the house and enter the door with a faint smile playing on your lips as you think about the Governor’s wife and how controlling she was, then you notice Samuel and Christopher sitting in a now solemn silence at the table with their heads turned and focused on you.

“Are you okay my love?” you gasp, rushing towards Samuel and taking his head in your hands as you examine his face carefully.

“I am fine,” he sighs, placing his hands over yours and bringing one of them to his mouth so he can kiss your palm, “we’re just… we…” tears prick his eyes as he struggles to finish his sentence, and Christopher takes over.

“We were discussing any procedure that might have to happen if your situation were to worsen and I’d have to intervene.”

“What would it entail?” you ask quietly.

“I would have to make an incision-”

“This is not for her ears, Christopher,” Samuel hisses.

“No, I need to hear what will happen,” you say as you move away from Samuel and lean against the wall.

“I would make an incision in your abdomen to reach through to your kidney where I would then need to make a hole big enough to fit my equipment in and remove each stone one by one before sewing you up again. You will pass out from the pain of it eventually, and there is a high risk of infection afterwards. I have not done this sort of procedure before… and if you were to still be with child then I fear the baby would not survive due to the trauma inflicted upon your body,” he explains calmly.

Your legs begin to shake beneath your weight and before you know what’s happening you’ve slid down the wall and landed on the floor as the colour drains from your face.

“(Y/N)!” Samuel gasps, dropping to his knees to help you.

“I’m fine,” you whisper unconvincingly, “I’m fine.”

@lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @antonomase @queen-bunnyears @leah-halliwell92 @queen-paladin

#samuel castell #samuel castell x reader #jamestown fic #jamestown #gwilym lee

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izukult · 5 years

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this is the end {chapter two}

summary / things couldn’t get worse than this. but, they did. the chapter in which everything in your life goes wrong.

warnings / cult, kidnap, actual foRCED cannibalism (if that’s too much it’s under the first break and ends after the second break!), stalking, death, angst, angst, angST, not much peter this chapter, swearing. idk bad stuff man. i use the word silence a million times just call it motif. didn’t proof read.

word count / 2015

notes / wow this is hard to write. PLEASE read my disclaimer. sorry there’s not much peter. this is filler. coolio. this will be like the last chapter that only focuses on what they’re doing to u, i promise this will get momentum

disclaimer / please don’t support or romanticize the abuse in this fic! this is something i’m simply writing to help me deal with trauma and/or my mental health to try to give it a positive spin. i apologize if it is dark, i needed an outlet. :))

the white cotton stuck to your skin with the water, leaving your breath to moisturize the air as you gasped. you lifted your chained hands as far as you could, trying to brush the hair that clung to your face. you looked at the cracked porcelain of the lonely bathtub, nausea going to your throat as you saw how your blood mixed in with the ice and the water. your cough was scratchy, burning your throat further as you leaned over, gagging, water spilling up.

“son of a bitch.” you let your head fall towards your chest as tears formed in your eyes again; the sob that left your throat stung almost as bad as the cold. you knew you could get out of this. you weren’t chained to the tub, and they weren’t holding a gun to your head if you dared to move an inch. they wanted you to move, to see if you really could fight the way your personality said you could after what you’d endured. you wanted to lift yourself, heave your body up and make your fragile knees bend, but you didn’t know how to do that without making them shatter. you didn’t know how to breathe without your ribs piercing your lungs. they were killing you and every day you felt your soul disconnecting from your body.

the metal of the handcuffs on your wrists clanged against the tub as you tried to push yourself up. ice pressed against a gash on your stomach (that you didn’t know you had) through the fabric of your dress, evoking a short scream from you. your body racked with sobs that hurt you so much more and you grit your teeth as you continued to try to get up. your body sunk down, trauma holding your bones back.

“god dammit,” the words came out like a desperate prayer and you slammed your hands into the side of the vat. “god fucking dammit!” you were sobbing harder, your cuts pruning along with your skin, but your energy to fight had completely vanished. you knew you’d be in there until someone came for you, and you knew when they grabbed you out it would be a whole lot worse; so you might as well try to enjoy getting clean.

—————

your eyes widened, head shaking rapidly. you jerked your body against the hands holding you, tears welling through your disgust. “no, no, no.” your body thrashed as your eyes stayed trained on the plate in front of you. “no.” it was simple, white ceramic with a silver fork and knife on each of its sides. the white was splotched with red- blood. you gagged slightly, the smell reaching your nose. “fucking no!” you twisted yourself, almost moving out of their grasp. you desperately attempted to stumble away, not caring what kind of beating you would face, but they pushed you forward.

“you have to become accustomed to it,” one of them started as they moved to shove you into the chair. “the queen should have no limits, no weakness.” once you were sat, they were clamping your shoulders. you pressed against the wood of the chair enough to try to tip it, but they simply brought you back up.

“please,” the word was croaked- choppy and sickly and raw. “don’t make me do this, i’ll be good. i promise i’ll be good.” you didn’t typically beg them, and you felt as if any integrity you held was gone. but you’d also never had what you could only assume was a human kidney (you remember peter telling you the shapes of organs one time while you studied for biology, which caused you to tell him he sounded like a serial killer.) in front of you on a fucking plate.

there was silence around you. typically, you would’ve begged for silence. a moment without their heavy breathing or the sound of your pain, but now it was just eerie. they watched you and waited and when you refused to move for the cutlery, they did it themselves. and, for some reason beyond them, you didn’t seem to enjoy it nearly as much as you did when your mother would feed you as a baby.

—————

his fingers traced your arm, nails forming a temporary tattoo.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

he was vile to you. they all were. your temples ached as he pierced your skin with what could only be described as his claws.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“i missed you, pretty girl.” a scowl found its way on your face at the name they’d all become accustomed to calling you- although it was a name only peter should call you. and, quite frankly, his praises of longing for you go unnoticed at the fact you can’t remember which one he is.

you have about thirteen comebacks to each of his phrases of want, but you’d learned that silence was the biggest killer to them.

your eyes filled with tears (like they always did) when his hands slid under your top, which didn’t cover much to begin with.

“but now it’s just you and me,” the animation of his voice was scratchy to you and you wanted nothing more than to rip the voice box out of his mask.

you continued to count in your head, eyesight trained on the wall in front of you rather than the situation presented in front of you.

your eyelids started to hang heavy. you were tired. of all of this. you were tired of pretending you were okay.

maybe if you fell asleep, this would go quicker. maybe, if you slept well enough, you wouldn’t even remember he was here.

—————

you watched as they set up the camera, feet burning against the cold cement. since that day of exhaustion, the feeling had been perpetual. you wanted to care about how you looked if you knew the world was going to see you (or was that another lie?), but it was the least of your concerns.

‘how did the phrase go? if peter couldn’t handle you at your ugly state during your kidnap, he didn’t deserve you at your best. something like that,’ you thought as they moved you to the middle mark for the perfect angle.

you were certain the recording was trivial. some dumb black market snuff film type shit that honestly no one would end up watching, but more time in front of the camera meant less alone time with them. peter had sworn that you deserved stardom, so maybe this was it.

your eyes darted from the man in front of you to the one who pressed the button on the camera (a riveting job, honestly) and then forward, to the lens.

you didn’t pay much attention as they droned on about you until your loves name got mentioned. your head snapped quickly, eyes widened and gaze afraid.

“and, peter parker, this ones for you.” his head tilted towards you and you became fascinated with the way the inside of your bottom lip tasted.

you shook your head slightly hoping peter would understand you desperately meant this wasn’t about him. you didn’t speak up though. silence was key.

he continued to talk about you, about your glory, and your hands, and your lips, and the way your face felt when they’d hold onto you.

that’s when you realized the smell. you hoped it hadn’t shown on your face, but it probably had. poker had never been your strong suit. and then you were scanning the room again and they could tell and you knew that they wanted this and that they wanted you to know something was up and they wanted to record you finding out and your stomach started to fucking churn.

a sob left your throat as a light you didn’t know existed shined behind you. there had been a curtain between you and the wall that had now been moved and you saw it. the reminiscence of a series of girls who looked somewhat like you.

“oh my, god.” it was a quiet prayer for a being you couldn’t say you believed in as you stared at the heads with hair just like yours, eyes a shade so close to your own. “oh my fucking god.” you were louder this time, your knees wobbling as you struggled to keep your balance.

you couldn’t see their faces but you imagined the men around you were smiling. you didn’t recognize the tears falling until they hit the ground but you ignored it, disgust covering your features as you turned from the girls to the man who had been talking.

“what the fuck have you done?” your voice was raw. you were furious, you were sick, you were sorry. sorry for the people who’d never be able to go home.

“don’t worry, sweetheart, they didn’t come close to you.” you lifted your chained hands to your mouth, retching out a sob.

“you’re- you’re all monsters.” you felt vacant. you felt empty. you felt useless. they had died because of you. they had died because they looked like you.

“oh my god.” you repeated yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were recorded by the long forgotten camera.

“oh, sweetheart, no reason to cry.” he moved towards you, placing a hand on your head, tangling his fingers through your hair. and, you realized, this was the first time you’d truly wanted to kill someone.

you continued to cry, not following the urge to do any harm to him as you stood in your spot.

“did we go too far?” your mind screamed yes. yes you’re evil and you’re bad and i hate you all. yes you went too fucking far. but you stayed unspeaking.

“what do you want, pretty girl?” your eye twitched. you felt it. you felt the physical change in you. you turned your head, eyes meeting the eyes of his mask and you smiled faintly.

“do you really want to know?” your voice was sweet, sickly, and he moved his hand from your hair to your shoulder.

“of course.” your smiled turned to a scowl as you raised your hands to place them atop his own, fingers digging into his hands.

“i want to rip the skin from your fucking hands so you never had the fucking luxury of touching me or those girls.” you moved your hands to his throat, but none of the other men moved to his rescue.

“and then?” you simultaneously leaned into him and brought his head to you, where your nose was against the nose of his mask. “then, i want to blow my brains against the fucking wall.” even though your words came through gritted teeth, each of them were over enunciated.

you shoved him away by his neck, continuing to stand tall as you did so. “and, unfortunately for me, i plan to get what i want.”

your gaze finally found the camera lens again and you let out a small breath of realization. your hands were shaking. you knew there were the girls behind you, and the man you’d been threatening was gasping for breath now. maybe you looked like the monster.

you looked down at your hands, teeth slightly chattering, and you could only imagine how peter felt. he probably hated you. this was your fault. this was your fucking fault. all of it.

your mouth parted slightly and you gulped. “i-” nothing else came out and you bit your lip again, shutting your eyes as tight as you could.

you wanted to sob. to fall apart. to break. but, you had just made a commitment to your captors. you were going to give them hell, and then find your way there. you just hoped peter would understand.

the camera turned off and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

unbeknownst to you, peter was sat at the tv with wide, glossy eyes, praying you’d get out of there as soon as possible. just not in the way you planned.

tag list: @greenteavee @jacksnoodlez99 @sarahalkhalifaa @lilsxtan @honeymarvel @awaywithtime @5secondsofpeterparker

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman angst #peter parker angst #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #marvel cinematic universe #this is SO DARK IM SORRY #TBH I WOULDVE DROPPED THIS IF THERE WERENT REQUESTS #COPING WEIRD #THANKS

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lendmyboyfriendahand · 4 years

Text

Didn’t get a lot of writing done today, so have an Avengers fic I never posted from 2016.

Howard Stark was on his way back from a night celebrating Stark Industries’ latest business deal. He had invited Maria, but she never wants to come to these more causal things, saying Howard deserves “a night out with the boys” every so often. He decided to forgo the chauffeur and drive himself back tonight – and his blood alcohol content actually cooperated with the idea. He’d walked from work to the bar, and went to retrieve the Aston Martin from Stark Industries’ secure parking garage. As Howard passed a dark alley, no different from five others on this street, a bulky figure wielding a hunting knife stepped out. Howard knew quite well that even in his prime, he wasn’t a skilled fighter, and his prime was over thirty years ago. He carefully raised one hand while reaching into his back pocket with the other. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’m getting my wallet out right now; it has over two hundred dollars in cash. You can take it, and I’ll turn around and go the other way.”

Unlike any mugger with sense, though, the man didn’t accept the wallet, or demand that Howard hand over his watch, or his cufflinks, or his fancy cell phone (the carrying case for that is a bit obvious, miniaturization is definitely going to be the next area for improvement, Howard’s already working on a half-dozen ideas). Instead, the man punched Howard in the head and pulled him into the alley before he could get his bearings. The beating continued, although the knife wasn’t brought into play yet. Howard clawed at the attacker, hoping to provide enough of a fight that the man would seek out a different victim. If nothing else, maybe Howard could make the man bleed, get some DNA evidence. He managed to catch the edge of the man’s scarf, and pull it away. Howard started to catalog the man’s features for a police report – brown hair, blue or green eyes, hard to tell which in this light, stubble, about six feet tall – when a flash of familiarity hit him. “Barnes? I thought you died decades ago.”

The attacker says “That’s not my name.”

“Oh? What is your name then?” It’s highly unlikely to work, but sometimes even a practiced agent – which Howard was beginning to suspect this man was, based on the impersonality of the hits that still manage to hit every place that can cause maximum pain combined with the fact that Howard hasn’t been able to get even one hit in – will fall for the obvious simply because they don’t expect it.

The question actually made the attacker pause, one hand cold around Howard’s throat and the other raised in the air. “I don’t know. A weapon doesn’t need a name, only people do.”

Okay, Howard was being attacked by a crazy man. Might as well run with what he had, hopefully someone will come by soon – the bar wasn’t in that bad of a neighborhood. “Then how do you know you’re not Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th?”

“You said he was dead. I am not dead.” A hard punch to Howard’s kidney made the point especially clear.

“No body was ever found. The fall should have been fatal, but if someone had come by in the next hour or two they could have taken him – you captive.” Whoever this was, he wasn’t punching Howard as long as Howard was talking, and there’s a lot he can say about Barnes without going near anything classified. “Maybe you don’t remember the name Barnes but Captain Rogers – Steve – called you Bucky.”

The man actually seemed to recognize this name, and Howard began to wonder if this might actually, miraculously, be Barnes. “Bucky… Who are you? How do you know so much about me?”

“My name is Howard Stark. I was a friend of Steve’s and your friend as well.”

That brought the knife out, appearing at Howard’s throat. “Prove it. Prove you’re not just tricking me to get me to break orders.”

“I have pictures of you at my house, even some with both of us together.” The knife didn’t move. “There’s also a photo in my wallet of Steve. You recognized your name, you’ll probably recognize Steve. He’s the blond man.”

The man who might be Barnes sheathed the knife, but instead picked Howard up by the throat, holding him against the alley wall while he grabbed Howard’s dropped wallet with the other hand. Credit cards, receipts, and cash were all dumped carelessly to the ground. Howard felt a twinge of guilt past the suffocation as his attacker pushed aside the photographs of Tony and Maria with the toe of his boot. He stood stock still for a long moment before rounding on Howard. “This is wrong! The face is familiar, but the man shouldn’t look like that.”

“He was in terrible shape for most of his life,” Howard gasped. “You’d probably remember him being about five foot two and ninety pounds. I and another scientist gave him a serum that made him tall and strong, far more so than an ordinary man. Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some too, the blood tests we did after you were rescued were a bit odd.” This seemed to calm the other man, as Howard now had both feet on the ground and could breathe fully, although the man’s left hand still rested on his collarbone.

“Can you show me proof?”

“Yes, I have photos of Steve before the serum as well. I can even prove that you’re really Barnes, I have a copy of your fingerprints.”

“Good. Bring me to them.”

“Are you done trying to kill me?”

“Yes. If I go back, they’ll take what I’ve learned away from me, and I need to find out who I was. The information I was given for this mission was obviously incomplete, and you are the only relevant source of information.”

“Okay then, follow me to my car; my house is bit of a ways from here.” Howard actually found it reassuring to have confirmation that this is the work of an organization, and not just a very crazy solitary mugger. Hired killers can be bought out, and even a loyal agent can usually be persuaded to see reason. A legitimately insane man would be far less predictable.

The drive home was the tensest half hour of Howard’s life, as Barnes – the man seemed less and less likely to be anyone else – was apparently carrying a pistol, and spent the entire ride pointing it casually at Howard’s let ear.

Howard turned to Barnes when they reached the mansion. “I don’t suppose you could put the gun away for a bit?” Of course, that just got the gun placed right at his temple.

“No. You’ll try to run, they always do.”

“I’m not going to try to run; I don’t need to. They always run because they don’t want to die, but you aren’t trying to kill me.” The gun didn’t lower, so Howard thought of something else. “Look, you could probably kill me in less than five seconds without the gun. I’m not asking you to throw it away, just put in your pocket or wherever you had it before.”

“If you’re not trying to escape, why does the location of the gun matter?” Barnes seemed honestly curious, apparently unaware that not all social situations are improved by firearms.

“If you have the gun out, my wife, as well as possibly the butler or the doorman, will see you and call the police. They’ll assume that my life is danger.”

“If I have the gun out, I can shoot them before they can call for help.”

That startled Howard, hearing Barnes talk so forthrightly about shooting random people just for being in the wrong place. “NO! If you shoot them, I won’t tell you anything about your past.”

“You will tell me all I need to know, whether or not you want to.”

Howard changed tack again, realizing that an exchange of threats with an amoral assassin – possibly with the serum, based on the alley – was unlikely to succeed, and putting on the sweetness instead. “I’m not trying to threaten you. If you’re willing to follow some of my – guidelines, I’ll be much more cooperative, and you’ll find out what you need to know faster. I’m just trying to warn you that shooting anyone will make the police come, and then you won’t have as much time to look at the pictures of your past.”

Barnes looked at Howard for a long moment. “In the field, it is necessary to defer to those with more expert knowledge of the situation at hand,” he stated, then tucked the gun somewhere under his coat. Howard breathed out and led Barnes in to the house, trying to convince himself he wasn’t letting his family’s future murderer in the front door.

After two hours, Howard has been able to figure out a few things about the situation. First, the man before him truly was Barnes, at least according to the finger prints from the right hand. The other hand is metal, which can be seen to go up past the elbow when Barnes removes his jacket due to being too warm. Barnes doesn’t know who wanted Howard dead, other than that Barnes believes them to be the same people he usually works for. However, Barnes’s memory is completely shot – he not only doesn’t remember the war, but also doesn’t remember anything beyond a few months ago, although his sense of time seems odd, with Reagan having been president then.

“Why don’t you go to bed now?”

“I have not yet recovered the missing information; several of these objects trigger headaches and images but the images are incomplete.”

“I need to go to bed now. It’s one a.m. and I have an eight a.m. meeting in the morning.”

“Your presence is not necessary for me to gain information.”

“You can take that big trunk with you; it’s mostly pictures and files about things you already witnessed. But I’d really prefer that you stay in a guest bedroom overnight; you’ll startle the maids if you stay in my study.”

Barnes cocks his head, obviously trying to figure something out, then nods. “I will follow you to my assigned quarters.” Barnes picks up the trunk – no mean feat, it’s three feet long, two feet wide and two feet deep and full of paper – and watches Howard like an actor waiting for the next cue.

Howard decides that one the third floor east wing guest rooms will do – Howard, Maria, and Tony have rooms on the north side, and the servants who stay overnight are all on the west wing, this is as far away from innocents who might be in danger as he can put Barnes while keeping the man in the house. Barnes doesn’t look around, doesn’t ask about food, just sets the box down and resumes paging through it.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom behind the door on the left, feel free to use it if you need to.”

Barnes looks up and meets Howard’s eyes, but gives no other sign if he likes his accommodations. Howard leaves the room and head towards his bed, but not before stopping at his lab to turn on the surveillance cameras for that wing, and check the footage from outside.

As Howard slipped into bed, Maria murmured “Hmm, you got in late.”

Howard: “I met an old friend, and he needed a place for the night. I put him in the east wing; I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” His voice is still a bit hoarse from being choked around the neck, but luckily Maria seems to accept it as exhaustion.

Maria: “You know the reason had better be good, I hate being unprepared for guests.”

Howard: “Trust me, my dear, it is. Now why don’t we both get some rest?”

#my fic #tehhumi October #i have 9k of disconnected fragments of this #the problem on reread is that I made Tony stark be the emotionaly competent one #and that just isn't realistic #also I have plot in mind but no actual end and not a full middle #we'll see if I post the rest of it or not #note this was written after CA:TWS but before Civil War #I just thought it would be fun (angsty) if Bucky had been the one to kill Howard #he was told to make it look like a mugging gone wrong

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary - Chapter 56

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @thunderintheshadows, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light

Tyler arrives in Christchurch at four in the afternoon; wasting no time in collecting his lone bag from luggage claim and then picking up the rental car Nik had arranged under an alias. After the fuck up leaving Colorado the first time, Nik had been on the ball about making sure security and privacy were locked up tight; no trace back to his real name or hometown, an extra secure encryption every he sent a text message or email, arranging to pay everything by cash instead of using a credit or debit card that could be linked back to his real identity. While it's near certain that word had gotten back to the Buckman family about who he is and that he's coming for the kids, it's essential that his exact day and time of arrival isn't discovered. It would keep them on their toes, perhaps even make them anxious enough to start making mistakes, and make it easier to get in and around the building for initial recon without being spotted. So he wears a a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap low on his brow; the hood of his sweater pulled up to cover his head. It's a cool day in New Zealand, so he won't stand out in his attire or draw any suspicion towards himself. It's the last hing he wants or needs, preferring to just show up out of nowhere and catch the Buckmans -and whoever is doing their dirty work- by surprise.

He heads to the hotel first; a modest yet spacious two room suite on the ninth floor of a fifteen story building on the busy downtown core. Nik had already arranged for Yaz to have access; everything that he'd left behind in Ireland -clothes, personal belongings, the weapons- having been brought along and dropped off. The weapons behind locked in one of the closets; a heavy metal chain wrapped around the handles and then secured with a combination lock. The code sent to his SAT.

He calls home. It's nine in the morning back in Colorado and he wakes her from a dead sleep, and he spends the first minutes apologizing profusely and the following ten making sure that she's feeling okay; checking that she's been taking her meds, eating, drinking. Once more clarifying that she knows exactly how to handle things if the worst case scenario becomes a reality. If he doesn't make it home and she's left to not only face the aftermath, but relegated to being the sole caregiver of four -soon to be five- children. And he tells her he loves her; making sure that she knows -beyond all shadow of a doubt- just how much, and how'd she'd changed his life...and him...for the better. Things he probably should have told her a long time ago. Avoiding all the hurt and the feelings of doubt and abandonment that she'd gone through during his frequent absences.

Next he leaves the hotel and heads out into the street; grabbing coffee and something to eat before texting Yaz for his exact whereabouts. Anxious to see the suspected extraction location. Check out the locals. How busy the street and the neighbourhood itself is. How likely was it that there would be civilian casualties when the Buckmans fought back. Where could an offensive be launched from? What did the possible entrance and exit points look like and how many options for both were there? Where could the hostiles hide out or mount their attack from? Relaying on other peoples' observations and plans is useless and a waste of his time. He has to see things for himself; run through every possible scenario, make his own plans. In the end if was his show to run; he was the one with the experience, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, who got down into the trenches where things were the most dangerous and unpredictable.

Yaz has set up shop in an abandoned office building across the street from the old store owned by Heather McMann's grandmother; the twelfth floor giving an unobstructed view of not only the front and back of the little shop, but of the entire row of brownstones and the alley ways on either end of the block, and behind. And he knocks twice on the door; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back and forth on his heels ever so slightly as he waits for someone to answer. Listening to the muffled conversations and the push of a chair across hardwood and the shuffling of footsteps as they approach the door. Mark answers; giving him little more than a smirk and then stepping back and holding the door open for him, gesturing for him to come in.

“Holy fuck, look at this!” Yaz calls out. “The lost sheep has returned to the flock! The fucking prodigal son has returned!”

“I've only been gone for two days and you missed me that much? What are you going to do when I'm gone for good? When I stop picking up the phone when your sister calls?”

“I'm going to stalk the every loving shit out of you until you come back,” Yaz says, and then embraces him warmly.

“I'm not coming back. I told you that. This is it Last one.”

“I give it a year. Before you're bored as hell and itching to get back out there.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you. I'm done after this. Time to be a family man. Time to be the husband my wife deserves.”

“Good like with that,” Mark mutters as he steps past him. “She doesn't know a good thing when she has one.”

Tyler smirks. “I know you're not talking about yourself, because everyone in this room knows what you're like. Or do we need to talk about it again? About how you like to beat on women?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz clamps a hand down onto his shoulder. “...don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get under your skin. How about you go over there and sit down, Mark. Quit trying to cause shit with my boy. Because you push your luck too far, he's going to rip you limb from limb. And not one of us in here are going to stop it. Are we boys?”

Both of the young Marines shake their heads.

“Good to have you back,” Nathan says, and pulls him into one of the awkward, one armed hugs that some guys seem to be into these days. “I know you wouldn't bail. Zak and I had faith. Unlike some people,” he jerks a thumb in Mark's direction.

“Thought maybe you didn't have it in you anymore,” Mark says, as he spreads his legs out in front of him and clasps his hands behind his neck. “That you lost your nerve.”

“Man's got more nerve in his baby finger than you have your entire body,” Yaz remarks. “And he wasn't bailing on us. He had some shit to take care of back home.”

“What kind of shit?” Mark inquires.

“Shit that isn't any of your business,” Tyler replies, and follows Yaz as he motions him over to the window.

“I figured if you wanted them to know, you'd tell them,” Yaz says, voice low. “How's things? She's okay?”

“Fainted, hit her head and gave herself a handful of stitches and a concussion. Doctor says her blood pressure was high and she was severely dehydrated. To the point of kidney issues.”

“But she's going to be okay, right? Like it's nothing that could...you know...”

“Nothing that bad. They've got her on meds. That should keep things normal from here on out.”

“And the baby? Everything's okay?”

“So far. Baby looks healthy, everything is where it's supposed to be, nothing's missing. The date's a little fuckey, but....”

“Fuckey how? You weren't home that day or something?”

“Not like that. Just farther ahead than we thought. Way farther ahead. Almost four months.”

“I mean, I'm no expert, but shouldn't you have known sooner? Like aren't these things obvious before now?”

“Normally. But when has anything ever been normal with us?”

“Well congrats,” Yaz pats him on the back. “Now get neutered okay? Five of you is enough. Did you look over what I sent you?”

Tyler nods.

“What do you think?”

“I think I need to get down there and see things for myself. Old blueprints and land claims and photos mean nothing. I need to get actual eyes on the place. Anyone been coming and going out of there?”

“Lot of weird shit been happening. Mostly people going in and out of the back door.”

“Get a good look at them? Anything that can be used for facial recognition?”

“Always keep their heads down. And there's no security cameras anywhere in that alley. We've checked. Twice.”

“Do people live in the apartments above? They occupied?”

“There's twenty residential apartments and five businesses. We haven't checked with the residents.”

“Someone might have their own security camera,” Tyler suggests. “Fire escapes right? They might be wanting to keep an eye on anyone coming up and down them for safety reasons. What's the alley like back there? How wide?”

“About ten feet. If that. Get a car in there and get blocked in...”

“You're totally fucked,” Tyler concludes.

Yaz nods. 'We've got Tanis down there right now. Doing some recon. We thought we had a sighting of Heather McMann yesterday but it never panned out. She went in the back door, never came back out.”

He frowns. “You've been watching all this time? Who's been watching the cameras when you're not here?”

“That would be me,” Mark pipes up.

“And you never saw anyone come back out?” Tyler inquires. “Whoever this woman was. She just went in and never came back out?”

“Not on my watch.”

“Not on mine either,” Yaz says. “And you know I'm anal about watching my cameras.”

“And she went in yesterday and you never saw her again?” Tyler stares pointedly at Mark. “You're one hundred percent sure that you never saw her.”

“I have eyes. I can fucking see,” Mark snarls.

“I want to see the footage. Bring it up on the computer, Yaz. You keep that shit, right?”

His friend gives him a look that clearly means that was a ridiculous question to ask. That of course he keeps the footage and how dare you suggest otherwise.

“I just fucking told you!” Mark snaps.

“I know what you told me. And I'm telling you that I want to see the footage.”

Mark jumps up with enough force to send the chair sliding backwards and then toppling to the ground. Crossing the room in four strides, until he's toe to toe with Tyler, who only smirks in response. “You telling me I don't know how to do my job? I'm FBI you fucking half wit. We do this shit for a living.”

“I'm just saying you might have fucked up. How does she go on and not come back out? Explain that to me.”

“Maybe he fucked up,” Mark nods at Yaz. “Maybe he missed her.”

“I don't fuck up,” Yaz informs him. “Never do I fuck up.”

“I want to see the goddamn footage,” Tyler demands. “What's the problem?”

“You think you can just walk back in here like you never left?” Mark rages. “Like you run the whole show?”

“Well technically it is his job,” Zak attempts to reason. “So he is kinda running things.”

“You take off for a couple of days and think you can just walk back in and...”

“I want to see the fucking footage,” Tyler angrily interjects. “I'm not asking. I'm telling. What's the goddamn issue? Just get on the computer and show me what I want to see.”

“You're an arrogant fuck, Rake. You think you can just take off for a couple of days so you can go home and get your dick wet and...”

Frowning, Tyler steps even closer to Mark. His tone calm and even, despite the rage that begins to simmer inside of him. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz lays a hand on his shoulder. “...no reason for this to turn into a thing...”

“It's been a 'thing' right from the beginning,” Mark says. “He's had a hard on for hating me right from the get go. Before he even met me.”

“I didn't need to meet you to know you're a fucking asshole, mate. I'd heard all about you. I'd been hoping I wouldn't meet you because I knew I'd probably kill you if I did.”

'Well I'm right here. What's stopping you? If you're as big and tough as you let on you are...”

Tyler smirks. “You're not even worth it.”

“You go home, you get laid, you come back and suddenly you're the boss? Fuck you, Rake. We've been doing all the work while you were off getting your dick sucked...”

“You need to watch your fucking mouth. Don't bring my wife into this.”

“Hey, I get it. I understand. I mean, she gives really good head, am I right?”

His forearm is across McMann's throat before anyone in the room can even react, and he forcefully pushes the other man across the room, slamming him against the back of the door. And as there's chaos and clamour as the Marines and Yaz rush over in an attempt to diffuse the situation, Tyler leans into his full body weight into Mark, further cutting off his airway.

“Don't ever talk about my wife like that. You don't bring her into your issues with me. Don't say her name. Don't even think about her. Because I will fucking kill you and I won't feel the least bit sorry about it.”

“You can't stand it can you,” Mark chokes out. “That I was with her before you. Fucking her before you were. You can't stand thinking about it, can you.”

“I don't give a shit about any of that. She had a life before me. You know what I give a shit about? All the things that you did to her. How you fucked her head up. You're a real man, Mark. Putting your hands on a woman that's half your size. Did it make you feel big and tough? When you were beating the shit out of her? I bet it made you feel like a real big man, didn't it.”

“You have no clue what went on. How she pushes and pushes and...”

“Oh I know. I know what she can be like, trust me. But you know what? I don't put my fucking hands on her. Because I'd kill myself if I ever even thought about it. I don't give a shit what she does or what she says or how big of a pain the ass she can be, you don't do shit like that. You're a coward. You beat on women because you can't take on someone your own size. Well I'm right here. You want to take a shot, just do it.”

“Yeah...that's not a good idea...” Yaz pipes up. “...not a good idea at all. So can you two comparing your dicks long enough for us to get some work done? Because I'd really like to get this job over and done with. And you two assholes are not helping.”

“Do it...” Tyler takes a step back, removing his arm from Mark's throat. “...I'm right here, fuck head. What? Suddenly you're not so tough? It's a whole different ball game when you've got someone your own size willing to take you on, isn't it.”

“Not exactly a fair fight,” Yaz says. “You've got like six inches on him and probably fifty pounds, so...”

“Not to mention you would kill him,” Nathan adds. “You know, considering the shit you've done to people with your bare hands.”

“Typical for guys like you, Rake, “ Mark scoffs. “All show and no go. All those muscles don't mean shit when you got nothing to back them up.”

“I've got plenty to back them up, mate. All you've got is that mouth of yours. Constantly fucking running it. And I won't hesitate being the guy that knocks all your teeth out. So keep fucking testing me. See how far you can push me. Go ahead.”

“No, don't,” Yaz manages to get between them. “Don't push him. This is not what we're here for. We're here for those two kids. This job has gone on long enough and I'm tired and I'm pissed and I'm irritated as fuck. So stop the pissing contest. Both of you. I get it, Mark's a huge dick and he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him for what he did to Esme. But can you at least rein all this in until after the job is done? Let's get those kids the fuck out of there and then you can drag him out into the street and finally beat the shit out of him. But for now...” he lays his hands on Tyler's shoulders and pushes him backwards. “...you need to calm the fuck down and focus. I need you to focus. You're not good to me or those kids if your heads not on straight. Right?” he lightly slaps his friend on the cheek. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Get your shit together. I need your head in the game. And you...” he turns to glare at Mark. “...get off his jock and quit trying to cause shit with him. Because he will do some serious damage and not one of us in here has the balls to try and stop him when he gets doing. Talk a walk or something. Go and get us coffee. Food. Make yourself useful. Maybe one of you boys can go with him. Calm him the hell down. We do not need this shit!”

“I'll do it,” Zak offers, albeit reluctantly. “You wanna come with, Nate? Stretch your legs? I promise I won't push him into traffic. Unless...” he playfully bumps Tyler's shoulder with his own. “...you want me to. Blink one for yes, twice for no.”

Tyler chuckles. “It's all good, mate. You keep your hands clean. He'll get what's coming to him.”

“That a threat?” Mark asks from the doorway.

“Naw...” Tyler shakes his head. “...that's a promise.”

****

“You good?” Yaz asks, after the commotion has finally settled down and he sits at his laptop, bringing up the file containing the camera footage from the day before.

“I'm good,” Tyler replies, and drags over a chair, turning it backwards before sitting down on it. “Fucking guy gets under my skin. I shouldn't let him, but he just doesn't stop.”

“He's like one of those sea dwelling amoebas that you can only see under a microscope yet they burrow into you and start causing all kinds of shit from the inside out.”

Tyler arches both brows.

“Remind me about it later. I'll show you. There's some cool shit about them on Youtube. Look, I know he's a pain in the ass. I've wanted to kill himself about ten times since yesterday. But he's doing this on purpose. To get a rise out of you. To get in your head. Stopping letting assholes like that take up space in your head without paying rent.”

“You been talking to my wife? Because you sound just like her.”

“Well, brilliant minds think alike. Although I question her intelligence and her sanity considering she willingly took up with you. I can't begin to imagine what she saw in you. Not even in the slightest.”

“Start using more than five pound weights in the gym and you can look like this too. Might take you forty years, but...”

“I will have you know, my lady is happy and satisfied.”

“Lady, huh? The one from the coffee shop? Shelly? Sherry? Whatever the hell her name is? The one I saw half naked.”

“Siobhan. And I'm still pissed at you about that. Cockblocking wasn't on your resume when you applied for the job. You at least like what you saw?”

Tyler chuckles. “You want me to rate your 'lady' or whatever the fuck she is?”

“I'll go first if you want. I'll rate Esme and then...”

“Yeah, no. Don't do that. Because I will have to kill you and it would break my heart a bit because I kind of like you. So...”

“I'd put her at a ten, by the way. If that makes a difference.”

“When have you seen enough to rate my wife? Is there something you're not telling me about?”

“I've seen her in a bathing suit. Ten. Definitely a ten. You lucky fucker.”

“Well, it's a ten plus, actually. But stop talking about my wife like that, for fuck sake.”

“You should be flattered. That guys find her attractive. They like what they see but she sticks with you.”

“I am flattered. But it also pisses me off. So...”

“Your turn. What did you think? At least a ten, right? Come on. I know you're married but I also know you look. We all look. Human nature. You like what you see?”

He shrugs. “I'll give her an eight. Nine at the most.”

“Fuck you, Tyler. I gave Esme a ten.”

“Because she is a ten. What I saw was an eight at the lowest and nine at the highest. I'm not into red heads. Plus she's not you...top heavy...”

'I forgot. You're a boob man. Is it true that when women have kids they get bigger? The boobs?”

“We are not talking about my wife's tits. So can we get on with this?”

“Just tell me if it's true. Do they?”

“It's not the kids that make them bigger, dumb ass. It's when they're pregnant with the kids. Pick up a fucking book or look it up on the internet. Why are you asking me?”

“Because you're kind of an expert. You've been through it three times. Now four if we count the one in the oven. So it's true then? You've experienced this yourself?”

“If I give you an answer will you shut the fuck up and get to work?”

“Swear on my mother's grave.”

“Your mother is still alive,” Tyler reminds him.

“My grandmother's than. True or not? Just a one word answer. Seeing as your so sensitive about this.”

“True. Now can we do this? While I'm still young enough to not be collecting an old age check? Fuck sake. Let's go.”

“So are you really doing it?” Yaz asks, as he puts in the approximate time of the day they'd seen the woman they'd thought was Heather McMann. “Leaving? Calling it a day?”

“When this is over, yeah. I've got five million reasons not to stick around. And five that are even more important. I've got a family, Yaz. And they deserve to have me around. Not just some of the time. All the time.”

“You're going to drive Esme crazy,” Yaz chuckles. “Being around all that much.”

“I already drive her crazy. What's your point?”

“You're not worried you're going to get bored? Having nothing to do?”

“I'll find things to do. I've got four kids to help take care of. In a few months until be five. That'll keep me busy enough. I don't need to be out killing people.”

“Daddy Tyler,” Yaz grins. “Can't wait to see that. I mean, I've seen it before, obviously. But I can't wait to see it at full force. You going to start coaching little league and soccer and driving a mini van?”

“Fuck you, Yaz.”

“You're going to start wearing cardigan sweats and growing your hair out and shaving off your beard,” he laughs. “You're going to turn into a regular Mister Rogers. You and your Starbucks and your deck shoes and your hipster haircut.”

“I honestly will punch you in the throat.”

“I kid, I kid. I can never see you doing anything of those things. And I'd probably put a hit out on you if you ever did do any of those things. You guys gonna stay in Colorado?”

“No. We're leaving. As soon as we can.”

“Back to Australia?”

Tyler nods.

“Can't say that surprises me. You guys were a lot happier when you were there. Didn't fight as much. Things just seemed to change when you guys went to Colorado. And not for the better either. That's where all the shit started to happen.”

Tyler can't deny that.

“It's like there's something bad in the air. Some bad fucking karma or juju or something. You guys will be happier back in Australia. I'm going to miss you guys. Especially those kids.”

“You can come and visit. I'm leaving the job. Not the people connected to it.”

“See, you will miss me.”

“Of course I will. Everyone needs a dorky friend, right?”

“You know, you start out so well and you go so wrong,” Yaz chuckles, and then stops the footage on the screen. “So, this is the camera in the back alley that I set up. And this is her. The one we thought was Heather McMann.”

Tyler leans forward in his chair, squinting his eyes. “Can you make it bigger?”

“Can I make it bigger,” Yaz scoffs, as he zooms in on the still. “Of course I can.”

Frowning, Tyler pulls his SAT phone out of the side pocket on his cargo shorts and brings up the photo gallery; selecting a picture he'd saved of the woman in question and then holding it up to the screen.

“Looks like her,” Yaz says. “Sort of? Right?”

“That's her. That is definitely her.”

“How can you tell?”

“Look at the marks on her face. The photo I have is when she was being 'held',” he makes air quotes around the last word. “So the bruises were still fresh. Now they're healing and not as noticeable, but they're still there. In the exact same places. Zoom in on her left hand.”

Yaz does what he's told.

“Same tattoo in the exact same place. And her rings are the same. Same engagement ring, same wedding band. There's no way that's not her. And she never came back out? What time is it...” he checks his watch. “...she's been in there for over eighteen hours? No fucking way.”

“If she came out, she didn't come out the back door.”

“You have cameras on the front?”

“You're asking a lot of stupid questions today,” Yaz sighs, and brings up the footage from the other camera, slowly scrolling through it, frame by frame.

“Has there been any sign of the kids?” Tyler asks.

“None. Whatsoever. But she did take food and shit in with her. So...”

“Still doesn't mean those kids are in there. She could have been bringing that to people she's working with.”

“You think the shop could be a front for something?”

Tyler shrugs. “This is so fucked up, anything is possible. Stop it. Go back about fifteen seconds.”

Yaz complies, then leans closer to the screen. “Sonofabitch...”

“She came out the front door. She changed her clothes and put a hat on and she walked right out. Right fucking in front of us,” Tyler sighs heavily, then runs his hands over his face. “Fuck!”

“She knows someone is watching her,” Yaz concludes. “It's why she changed her clothes and put a hat on.”

“Fuck!” Tyler rages, as he stands up and kicks the chair across the room. “Fuck!!”

Yaz remains silent.

“How the fuck did you guys miss that? She walked right out the goddamn front door! How the fuck does that happen? She's right across the street! Why did no one go over there and see if it was her when you saw her on camera? You thought it was her but didn't go and check it out? What the fuck, Yaz?!”

“I get it. You're upset. And you've got a right to be. But....”

“I'm not upset. I am beyond upset. Way beyond it How did you guys fuck up this bad? Four people in this goddamn room, Tanis on the street, and not one person thought to go and see if it was Heather McMann? Not one of you thought that was a good idea?”

“In all fairness, you're the expert and you weren't here so...”

“They're Marines! They know how to take someone down if they have to. Jesus fucking Christ...” he punches a gaping hole in one of he walls. “...how the fuck does this happen?! She was right there. Right across the street. And not one of you went to get her. Who was watching the cameras? Who fucked up? Who didn't see her come back out?”

“I'll give you three guess. But you're only going to need one.”

“Of course it was Mark. Of course it was. That fucking prick!” Tyler lays his palms against the wall and drops his chin to his chest, attempting to calm himself. “This is a big fuck up. A huge fuck up. An epic fuck up.”

Yaz nods in agreement.

“She was right there and we could have had her. She could have lead us right to those kids. And not one of you went to see if it was her for sure.”

“We fucked up,” Yaz admits. “Big time.”

“You think?!”

Neither of them speak for several minutes; Yaz waiting for Tyler to fully calm down. He knows it would be a huge mistake; to even utter a single word when his friend is so worked up. Eventually Tyler moves; grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler one of the others had brought with them, twisting off the cap and downing half.

“She come back?” he asks. “Any sign of her returning?”

“None. And I scoured the tapes. Twice. She hasn't come back. Think she will?”

Tyler shrugs. “She knows she's being watched. She knows you guys are here.”

“Think she knows you're here?”

“Probably not. I'm pretty much non existent right now. There's no sign of me coming into New Zealand. No flight manifesto, no real sign of me on any of the cameras, I haven't used a bank card or a credit card, Nik ordered the car under a different name. So we at least didn't fuck that up.”

“We still have the element of surprise,” Yaz concludes. “At least where you're concerned.”

Tyler nods.

“So we just wait? To see if she comes back? What do you think?”

“I need to get down there. Get my own eyes on things.”

“Could make you. If anyone sees you. If she sees you.”

“Guess it's too late now to worry about it, yeah? If they're going to find out, they're going to find out. But I need to get down there. See things for myself. I don't think it's safe yet to actually go into the building. No way of knowing if there's anyone in there. And if there is, how many there are. I'm not walking into a massacre. Fuck that.”

“You're armed, aren't you.”

“I've got a fucking Glock, Yaz. What good will that do against bigger weapons? It won't do shit. I'd get two, three shots and that's it. We need to know exactly what's going on down there. Any way of getting eyes inside?”

“I could get a hold of my guy. I'm sure he's got the tech. I'll give him a call,” he pulls out his own SAT phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go down there and check shit out,” he finishes off the water, tossing the empty bottle into the garbage before heading for the door. “Keep an eye on things. Message me if you see anyone that looks even remotely like her. Can you do that?”

Yaz nods. “Be careful, okay? Don't get yourself killed the first day.”

“Just watch my back,” Tyler responds, and then steps out the door.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #sanctuary #extraction #chris hemsworth character

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choicesfanatic86 · 5 years

Text

If Only: Chapter 18

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Liam x Riley (MC)

SUMMARY: And they're off to Cordonia! Riley and Liam have a heart to heart about what to expect when they arrive in Cordonia.

TAGS - If you would like to be tagged for If Only, please message me. I am reworking all of my fan fiction, and I know that a lot of people may no longer be in the fandom, or maybe they no longer want to follow If Only. If that is the case, I didn't want to unnecessarily tag someone. So please, let me know if you would like to be tagged for future updates of this piece.

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11/25/2019 - It has been over a year since I updated If Only, and I feel absolutely sick about it. I apologize for not updating as regularly as I should have. I came back in May with the intent to keep writing and bring new stories to the fandom, but my world got rocked with a horrible family situation. I went MIA initially because I had a family emergency come up in September of 2018. My father was diagnosed with stage 4 esophageal cancer. He became stable at the beginning of May which prompted me to feel a bit reinvigorated to write again. We were thrown for a loop when he passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at the end of May after a brief period of stabilization. His kidneys shut down and he went into respiratory failure. Ironically, the cancer may have weakened him, but it wasn't his cause of death. I was a wreck. I've slowly gone through the grieving process and wanted to try my hand at writing again. I can't promise you I'll be consistent, but I'm going to try. Thank you all for the amazing support and thoughts. Thank you for your sweet reviews. I will be going through all of them. <3

Chapter 18

Riley was certain of one thing – she would always find herself awestruck at being able to fly on a private airplane. She hadn’t traveled all that much before, but when she did, it was a pain. The astronomical cost of airline tickets, the long lines, the long list of TSA security no-nos that she could never seem to grasp . . . all of it made the whole prospect of travelling more of a nuisance than anything else. Traveling with Liam, on the other hand, had been nothing but a dream since the moment they got to the airport. Liam once again took charge guiding her to where they needed to check in. Things at the airport had gone just as smoothly as they had when they left Las Vegas. Actually, it had gone even smoother than Las Vegas since they were flying out internationally and that terminal had not been nearly as crowded as the domestic terminals. Liam once again breezed by as Riley trailed behind him, still unaccustomed to the life of private jet-setting. She still found the entire thing to be a bit surreal. What normally would have been a two hour process had only taken them twenty minutes. Apparently, the life of royalty had some major perks.

A little over an hour later, Riley found herself sitting on the private plane that was scheduled to take them to Cordonia. She stared absently out of the plane’s window as she contemplated how differently her life had ended up than what she had planned out over the years. For one, she never, ever saw herself sitting on a private plane as they waited for the all clear for takeoff. For another, she never thought she’d get married to a complete stranger on a whim – in Vegas, no less. Then again, she also never thought she’d ever meet someone like Liam. She bit her lip lightly as she watched him joke around with the flight crew. Apparently, he knew all of them quite well. They weren’t treating him like a prince, but rather an old friend who they were excited to see. But that was the thing about Liam – despite his royal roots, he seemed like such an average, ordinary, everyday guy. He was genuinely a good guy - somebody you could sit around and have hours of conversation with and never got bored. She smiled and watched as he fawned over pictures of one of the flight attendant’s newborn grand-daughter. He never fell short of amazing her. She had always pictured herself winding up with some sort of science geek, who, like her, had spent years focusing on his education to land the perfect job. Liam was completely different. The connection they shared was one in a million. The time they spent together alone in her apartment had further solidified that fact. She’d have been foolish to let him slip away from her in Vegas, and if she had, she’d likely never find that sort of connection with someone else ever again. Their relationship wasn’t something that you could just dismiss as being a spur of the moment, one-time fling. He made her feel alive again, and she loved how he had forced her to reevaluate the life she was living, and helped her to see that none of it was what she wanted. It felt as if they had known each other for years instead of only a few days. There was just something about Liam that brought out her desire for an exciting new adventure. For the first time in years, she didn’t have a plan, and it scared the shit out of her. There was no denying the fact that she felt like she was swimming in the deep end of the pool without any sort of lifejacket. But, for some reason, she was okay with that, because she knew she’d have Liam by her side to help keep her afloat.

Riley’s smile grew as he chatted with a different flight attendant about their travel plans when they got to Cordonia. He was going on and on about how he wanted to take her to their country house to show her the orchards of apple trees. She looked around the bustling plane – apart from the three flight attendants she had seen, she had counted four more flight attendants and two pilots on their flight. She shook her head in disbelief. It was crazy to think that all nine members of the flight crew were aboard just for them. It was hard to believe that this was her life now.

Liam grasped one of the male attendants on the shoulder as he headed back over to where she was sitting. “You look rather deep in thought,” he murmured as he sidled into the seat next to her.

She smiled softly. “Just thinking about what a whirlwind this has all been. I guess it’s just hard to believe that we won’t have to listen to crying babies or fighting for space for our carry-ons in the overhead compartment.”

“I admit, those are things I have never had to worry about when I traveled,” he smirked. “But I can imagine those sorts of things would be rather inconvenient.”

“Exceptionally so,” she chuckled. “You’re so amazing with people, Liam. The way you talk to them and treat them with the utmost respect regardless of your status,” Riley looked at him in admiration. “You’re just a genuine, sweet man,” she said, clasping her hand in his.

He looked at her adoration. “I’ve known all of them for years – since I was old enough to travel with my father,” he smiled. “They’re like another set of family members. The older woman I was talking to? Dolores? She just welcomed her first granddaughter. My father gave her some time off to spend with the new baby,” he explained. “Being royal doesn’t make you any less human. Having compassion and being respectful are just decent things to do,” he explained as he squeezed her hand back.

“Well, you don’t see a lot of that in New York,” Riley mused. “And I’ll be honest, people can become a bit snooty when power goes to their head. Trust me.” She thought of the many rude people she encountered as she walked along the streets of New York City. There was always some guy in a total rush with a cell phone pressed against his ear and a briefcase swinging from his hand pushing his way down the sidewalk trying to get the next available cab. New York people were savage.

Liam chuckled at her observation. “Quite true, love. I assure you, that is just how I was raised. I just couldn’t live with myself if I treated anyone with anything but the respect that they deserve.”

“You are one in a million, Liam Rys.” She smiled broadly, squeezing his hand tightly.

“As are you, Riley Rys,” he winked at her.

She blushed as she changed the subject. “So, do we have any layovers or are we landing straight in Cordonia?”

He shook his head. “No stopovers, that’s not how private jets work, love. The flight should take about eight hours tops,” he explained. “We’ll be arriving in Cordonia at around 7:30 in the morning.”

“Wow, that early?” Riley asked.

“The time difference will take a bit getting used to, especially since you’ve lived in New York your whole life,” he explained. “The early arrival will be beneficial to us, I’m sure. I doubt the press will have caught wind that we’re arriving that early. It might give us enough time to get you to the palace without the mad rush of press on our tails,” he reasoned.

“The press?” She asked, her eyes widening.

Just as Liam was about to explain further, the pilot came over the loudspeaker announcing that they would be preparing for takeoff. Riley inhaled deeply as she felt the power and speed of the plane push forward as it readied itself for take off. She was momentarily distracted from the idea of the press and what exactly he meant about them being on their tails.

When they reached a comfortable elevation, the captain came over the loudspeaker again.

“Your Majesties, thank you for joining us this afternoon. We expect the flight to take roughly eight hours, and we are expecting clear skies and smooth travel. Should you need anything, please let any one of our staff attendants know and they will be glad to assist you with whatever you may need,” the voice boomed.

“Was he talking to me, too?” She asked, her eyes widening once more.

“Well, yes, love. You are the future Queen of Cordonia. It is only right that he address you as such,” he explained.

Riley knew that marrying Liam automatically meant that she was royalty, too, but having someone actually refer to her as one was crazy.

“Your Majesties, would you like a beverage? Wine? Or champagne perhaps?” Dolores, the attendant Liam had been talking to earlier asked.

“Love?” Liam asked.

“Um, maybe just some water?” She asked quietly.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Prince Liam?”

“I’m fine, Dolores,” he smiled brightly at the older woman. “Maybe when we have our meals I’ll have a bit of scotch,” he added.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she acquiesced as she poured Riley a glass of water.

“This is surreal,” she murmured, mostly to herself.

“Love, this is what you have to look forward to each time you travel,” he laughed. “With our busy schedules, it only seems right that we travel as comfortable as possible. After all, we don’t know when we’ll have a spare moment to ourselves again,” he said knowingly.

She nodded nervously, her hands fiddling about in her lap. That’s actually what was worrying her. What was life going to be like now that they were heading out of their Las Vegas and New York bubbles?

Liam leaned over, clasping his hands around hers and smiled. “You’re fine, love,” he murmured encouragingly. “Now that I have you held captive in an airplane . . . ” he trailed off, eyeing her a bit nervously.

“What?” She asked; worry once again coursed through her body.

“Are you ready to talk about what you’ve signed up for?” He shot her a nervous smile. He looked as if he were waiting for her to jump ship . . . or in this case, plane . . . any second.

She eyed him suspiciously, taking a large gulp of her cold water. “You act as if I just signed up to go to war or something,” she chuckled anxiously. “I know you don’t want to scare me, Liam, but I think I can handle whatever they’re going to throw my way,” she said. Think being the operative word. She talked a good game and tried her best to calm the quaking nerves inside of her, but in truth, she was absolutely petrified. She had no clue how to be a princess . . . let alone a queen when that time inevitably arrived. How on earth was she going to manage it all while still getting to know her new husband?

“I don’t mean to sound so cryptic,” he explained apologetically. “I suppose I just wanted to prepare you for what might happen when we arrive,” he said vaguely.

“Are you expecting a grand welcome?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Well, possibly,” he admitted.

Her eyebrow arched a bit higher. “Oh,” she said nervously.

“To be quite honest, I’m not sure what to expect.” He ran his hand nervously over the back of his neck, and looked at her bashfully. “Our early arrival does buy us some time as I mentioned, but I’m honestly not too sure what the Cordonian people have been told. I’m not sure if they’ve publically announced the end of my engagement to Olivia,” he said uncertainly. “In fact, I’m not sure if they even announced that we’ve gotten married.”

“And if they have?” Riley asked.

“If they have, then you can expect the press to be hounding us until they get a printable story,” he sighed. “It’s the nature of the press, love. They have a hunger for a scandal . . . the more prominent the person, the more desirable the story,” he said glumly.

“And being the heir to the Cordonian throne, any story about you would be explosive,” Riley said, understanding where he was going with his explanation. The press wouldn’t let the story rest until they had every single detail about the end of his engagement to Olivia and their subsequent marriage in Vegas. They were in for one hell of a welcome if that were the case. She shook her head hesitantly. The idea of being hounded by the press wasn’t something she was particularly looking forward to. She had never paid attention to those sordid, trashy tabloids back home. She had always thought that it was grossly negligent to publish half-facts and over-exaggerations. This was the conversation that she had been worried about. Up to this point, everything had been a vague and distant idea that she had formulated inside of her head, but as Cordonia loomed closer and closer in front of them, at some point they’d have to discuss the elephant in the room, and apparently, Liam had decided that “some point” was right then and there.

“I wish I could say that this will be easy, love . . . but it won’t. I wish I could take the burden of the scrutiny of the press and the people and my family away so that you would never have to endure a single unpleasant moment. But having lived this life in the limelight for as long as I have . . . I know that many will have . . . reservations,” he explained hesitantly.

“Reservations?” She asked, slightly confused.

“They may publish some untrue things about you . . . they may suspect we got pregnant out of wedlock, hence the quickie marriage . . . they may even publish some nasty, untrue remarks about your friends and family . . .” he trailed off.

She winced a little. She had never really had a thick skin growing up. She had always been sensitive, and she didn’t like to be teased or taunted. The idea of having a whole nation scrutinize her every move, made her physically ill. The idea of having someone critique how she acted, what she wore, who she spent time with . . . it all felt too much. But to have that extend to her family and friends? She couldn’t imagine dealing with that on top of everything else.

Liam continued. “Olivia was a well-liked Duchess, and although the marriage was arranged, I’d imagine that many may not take kindly to the broken engagement . . . and our subsequent union,” he reasoned.

“Like Bertrand,” she arched a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes, like Bertrand. Some of the people of Cordonia are traditionalists. They may not be so welcoming to the fact that I have married someone not of the country. Not of Europe for that matter,” he explained. “But I have no doubt that once they get to know you . . . the you I fell in love with . . . all of their reservations will disappear,” he said optimistically.

“I hope so,” she said meekly. “I know it’s going to be tough . . . I just don’t want people to hate me, you know?”

“They won’t hate you, love,” he chuckled. “How would they hate the most amazing girl I’ve ever met?”

Riley sighed, leaning closer into him. “You were engaged, Liam. To a woman you have had a friendship with for most of your life. Are you telling me that she’ll warmly open her arms and welcome me to the palace?”

Liam grimaced in reply. “Well, obviously not. Olivia will prove to be a difficulty. Of that, I’m quite sure.”

“And your parents?” Riley added. “You got into quite the tiff with your father before we left.”

“As did you,” he reminded her. “My father and stepmother will come around. Once they realize that Cordonia’s future will not be in any jeopardy and that the monarchy will continue, they will warm to the idea of our marriage. It will take time, love.”

She nodded. She sucked in a long breath. She needed to be strong. As long as she had Liam by her side, she knew they’d be able to overcome whatever difficulties that were headed their way.

“We’re going to get through all of this together, Riley. I will never forget how much you’re giving up for me . . . for us,” he said passionately.

She leaned in for a soft kiss. Liam deepened the kiss before pulling himself away. “I have such a hard time controlling myself around you,” he said breathily.

“Let me distract you. Tell me about Cordonia. Not about the press or the bad stuff we might encounter,” she shook her head. “If I’m moving to a brand new country, I should know everything there is about it. The internet wasn’t too helpful. I guess it’s so small that not a lot of people actually know a whole lot about it,” she frowned.

He nodded. “It is small, but I assure you it has a rich history. A history that you and I are now a part of,” he smiled. “I’ll happily answer any questions you’d like about Cordonia, but I think that the best way to get to know our beautiful country is to experience it first hand in person,” he said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing everything,” she agreed. After a brief moment, she asked another question. “So, can I get a job when we get there? Or is that sort of not allowed. I just don’t want people thinking I’m some sort of gold-digger. Your friends already accused me of being a crown-chaser, and I don’t want people thinking that I don’t want to work . . . because I kind of do? I mean, I don’t really know what I could do considering I have a degree in Biology . . . and I’m a medical school drop out . . . but there has to be something right?” she rambled out

Liam stared at her as if she had three heads. She supposed it was a silly question. Did royalty work? She tried to think back on the lives of various royal figures - did Princess Diana have a job? What about Princess Eugenie? How about Duchess Kate? Surely an independent woman such as Duchess Megan Markle kept a job? She frowned, she was being ridiculous. Of course they didn’t have jobs. They were too busy jet setting alongside their husbands. She frowned at the thought. She had never seen herself as being a woman who relied on a man to do all of the hard work. She hadn’t liked when Liam’s friends had thought of her as being a crown-chaser, and she certainly didn’t want the rest of the public thinking the same thing. Shouldn’t she be able to prove that she’s way more than just some woman that Liam met in Las Vegas? She wanted to contribute in someway . . . even if she didn’t know exactly how she could contribute.

“You don’t have to work, love. I told you that. You will want for nothing the moment you set foot inside the palace,” he assured her.

“That’s such a strange concept,” she frowned. “Not working . . .I mean, I went to college, got my degree, held quite a few jobs over the years, and now I just . . . do nothing?” she pursed her lips. “I don’t want people to think that I married you for anything other than love,” she said softly.

“Being Queen is a job in itself Riley,” he explained. “You’ll be expected to plan social functions, attend political meetings, coordinate various social programs, meet with different international figures . . . although the compensation process might be quite different than what you’re used to, you will very much have a job in Cordonia,” He rationalized.

She nodded, although she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the whole concept. “So the whole social functions thing . . . is that like party planning?”

“Oh, love. It is far more than just a party. Why don’t I give you a brief history of Cordonia and some perspective on the monarchy and perhaps then you’ll understand a bit more about how important the social season is to the Cordonian people?”

She nodded eagerly, sitting up in her chair. “I’d like that a lot actually. I feel like I’m jumping out of a plane without a parachute when it comes to knowing anything about Cordonia. I really don’t want my first impression with your family to be me clueless about the country I’m now a resident of,” she gave a nervous chuckle.

A few hours later, Liam had recounted a not-so-brief history of everything about Cordonia. Riley had no idea how Liam was able to remember all of it. She guessed having grown up there gave him an upper hand, but still. He was able to recount every single monarch and every single duchy that. He could even rattle off population stats that all sounded like a bunch of mumble jumble to her.

“Lords and Ladies . . . palaces . . . waltzes . . . balls . . . court . . . my head is spinning, Liam,” she frowned. She needed some aspirin, or maybe a stiff drink. She hadn’t expected her Cordonia 101 class with Liam to be easy, but she had hoped that she’d be able to at least glean some information to help her survive her first few days there. Instead, she felt like she had nothing but information overload. She couldn’t tell you who anyone was or what city was what because all of the names and places started to merge with one another after a while.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re doing remarkably well,” he said encouragingly. “Hopefully some of the notes you took will help,” he smiled.

Yes, she had taken notes, but she had no clue what was important and what wasn’t. She hadn’t even known Cordonia even existed before meeting Liam. Now, she suddenly needed to know everything there was to know about the tiny country. How on earth was she going to remember everything?

“Trust me, love. In time, all of this information will become second nature,” Liam beamed at her.

She snorted. She didn’t want to tell him that she was more of a math and sciences sort of girl as opposed to being a history buff. She couldn’t imagine a time when all of these Cordonian factoids would become second nature.

“Here. Let’s test some of your knowledge now. I’ll give you an easy one,” he said excitedly. “What is the capital of Cordonia?” Liam asked expectedly.

Riley licked her lips nervously. Her eyes scanned the notes in front of her, but she could barely make out half of her short hand. She paused, uncertainly. “Valtoria,” she half-asked.

“Correct,” he smiled at her proudly as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over her hand. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ll have Cordonian culture down in no time.”

She smiled tightly in response. She hoped he was right. She had been taking notes off and on during their discussion, but she didn’t really know how it would help her if she got ambushed by the press. It’s not like she could pull out a set of flash cards when she was getting interviewed. She didn’t think that’d earn her any brownie points with the Cordonian public.

Liam continued to quiz her on questions during the last few hours of the flight, and Riley admittedly was starting to remember some of the major things that Liam had taught her, but she still felt that all of the information she had just gained were whirling inside of her head like a tornado. She had never wanted to excel at something so much in her life. She felt like she was back in school, trying to cram in as much information as possible. She just hoped it stuck.

“What if I mess up?” She asked worriedly. “It took me years to even learn all the capitols of the fifty states,” she frowned. “And even then I still managed to goof up every now and then,” she said, her voice laced with a bit of panic.

“Riley, love, you’re a natural at this. You may not be Cordonian by birth, but we will have you be a star pupil on Cordonian history in no time,” he said encouragingly. “Like I said, you’re already doing so well.”

“I don’t know how I’ll remember all of this,” she said faintly. “There’s a reason why I went to medical school. Liberal arts wasn’t exactly my strong suit,” she joked.

“I’ll be there to guide you, and my friends, once they get to know you, will be more than happy to provide you with some help along the way. I happen to know that Bertrand majored in history at our university,” he said. “I’d be happy to talk to him about perhaps giving you some private lessons on Cordonian culture,” he offered. “He’d actually be well-suited to help you adjust to court life.”

“Bertrand . . . yeah, I don’t think he’ll be very much inclined to help me considering he wanted to have our marriage annulled,” she sighed. “He also seemed to think that I would be the demise of Cordonia.”

“Well, yes, remember, Bertrand is a traditionalist. His duty to country comes before all else. But regardless, he’s still my friend, and as such, he’ll want me to be happy. If I ask him to help you adjust to court life, he will do it. Begrudgingly at first, but after he sees how well suited you are as my wife, he’ll come around.”

Riley sighed. What an optimist. As much as she wanted to believe that Bertrand would help her, she believed that he’d probably eagerly wait for the moment for her to fall flat on her face. She was about to ask Liam a few more questions about Cordonia when she felt a slight rumble under her feet. She felt the plane begin to descend, and looked at Liam a bit concerned. “What was that?” She asked in alarm.

“We’re getting closer,” he explained as his eyes peered out the window. “It looks like we’re descending a bit to prepare for landing,” he reasoned. His eyes grew a bit brighter as he stared out the window. “Well, Mrs. Rys . . . if you look out to your left you’ll catch your first glimpse of your new home,” Liam beamed proudly.

Riley leaned against the window, her eyes gazing out into the distance below her. She could just make out the aerial view of the country. A million thoughts ran through her mind. They were here. They were finally here. Riley gazed out at the shimmering blue ocean below her. Cordonia’s coastline was breathtaking. The little information she found on Google did nothing to prepare her for the sheer beauty of the country below her.

She turned to Liam in awe, and he greeted her gaze with a beaming smile. All it took for her worries to wane was a single look at Liam. She knew this move would be hard, and she knew that she would be faced with a lot of scrutiny, and although she still had reservations about what would be like as an outsider, she knew that as long as Liam stood by her side, she’d somehow manage to pull through all of this.

“That’s our country,” he said, leaning over her, pressing a soft kiss on the temple of her forehead.

“Our?” She whispered, still a bit overwhelmed about the reality of finally being in Cordonia. She turned to face him, his eyes fixed on her in admiration.

“Yes, love. The moment you said yes . . . the moment you signed those papers . . . this became all of yours,” he said proudly.

#liam x mc #liam x riley #king liam #trr #trr fanfic #trr fic #choices trr #choices fanfiction #fanfic #the royal romance #theroyalromance #the royal romance fan fic

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thelioncourts · 4 years

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life update for anyone who is. interested or anything :)

so. to say the last few months have been stressful would be an understatement. and they’ve been so stressful for everyone. i dealt with a lot of the same, or similar, problems as people during the beginning of the pandemic: loss of income, school stresses, mental health deterioration, etc. but i pushed through, also like so so many strong people.

these last few weeks though have been the cherry on top of an already bizarre year.

my grandmother - who i hate - is dying of liver failure, kidney failure, and congestive heart failure. she was intended to be the primary caretaker for her father, my great-grandfather who is 91, but, to be honest, he’s in far better shape than she is. he just can’t walk around so easily. my mother, in turn, has quit her job to take care of them because they refuse to pay for in-home health care (refuse is an important word here; they have the money, they just. won’t). my mother has a heart of gold and despite all of our issues with her (and my mother has so many issues with my grandmother too (she’s my mother’s mother-in-law)) she can’t stand for them to be miserable and alone during this. my mother’s work was not kind to her during the pandemic and even less kind when she quit. and now our house is down a second income which means we are back to counting coupons and stuff. and it’s not end of the world by any means, but we haven’t been here in a while.

i’m back at work at the coffeeshop. i hate that place. it’s not the worst job, but like all food-service-esque jobs, dealing with a raging public and are severely understaffed, adding to the public’s rage. i make minimum wage. i deserve so much more, we all do.

as a human being and as a future educator as well, the black lives matter movement has been life changing to witness and to be part of in however i can (which, for me in this exact moment, involves signing all the petitions i can and sharing info. i have made a list of organizations i want to donate to when i have the money, but i don’t have that right now at all). i’ve been arguing and shutting down to the best of my ability racist family members and people i’ve had the displeasure of having to know in real-life via schooling and whatnot. it’s enraging. it’s a lot. and it’s opened my eyes even more to things i should have been more aware of.

my sister is having surgery this friday. she’s in anatomy II for school and was learning about different systems and learned about this thing called a thyroglossal cyst. she has one. the surgery to remove it is friday. anytime anyone goes into surgery is just. terrifying, and especially when it’s someone so important to me. and i can’t be there. they’re barely allowing my parents to be there with everything going on. they’re cutting into her neck. she was crying tonight, worrying about the scar. her birthday is next thursday too.

dad’s birthday is tuesday and father’s day is sunday. i have no idea what to do, besides cook. i know that’s all he actually wants (food is his heart) but. i feel like he deserves so much more and i don’t know where to go for anything or what to do.

i start classes tomorrow. i have two classes to take this summer then i student teach in the fall, if everything works out. i haven’t had time to check really anything the last few weeks given all of this going on and i feel like i’ve probably missed something i hope it’s nothing or nothing important but. my university, as i’ve said before, shut down permanently after the pandemic. it’s just. a lot. and these two classes seem utterly useless tbh. one is ‘technology in the classroom’ and it’s being taught by a professor that barely knows how zoom works.

i have a lump in my left breast that is extremely tender and my breast feels incredibly full. it might be nothing. i noticed it about six days ago, finally had my mom feel it today to tell me if i was being crazy or if it was real. she told me i need to make an appointment. it might be nothing, but the idea that it might be something has me so stressed and selfishly worried. and i really wish this could wait until i have my own health insurance so i don’t add anything to my parents’ or something.

all i want to do is workout, bike ride, cook, read books, and write, and i feel like if i do any of that i’m so far behind on everything. it’s been a lot. i’m trying to push through but i’m really tired. idk.

sorry this is so long for anyone that does read it. i appreciate you all so much, but if i’m not online a lot the next little bit. this is why. thank you for reading if you did. <3 sending all the good luck i can to everyone, i know we all need it.

#don't mind me #sorry. long post

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wings-of-indigo · 5 years

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So, Waitress is closing and Why I am Happy about that: An Exceedingly long essay Rant about Broadway

Look. Nobody's gonna read this, most likely, but it's 2 in the morning and my brain's been obsessing over Broadway (more than usual, anyway) since communing with my people at intensive this week. So, in the interest of getting some sleep before 8 hrs of dance and shitty high notes tomorrow, here goes.

I love classic, high-school-and-community standard musicals. I love new and experimental musicals. I love Disney film-to-stage musicals. I love institution musicals like Chorus Line, Cats, and Wicked; I even have a soft spot for Phantom. I am eagerly anticipating West Side Story next Christmas (seriously, I have a calander).

BUT.

As I said to one of my fellow dancers during post-class stretch (after noting his insane flexibilty and making yet another resolution to stretch more) I am Sick to GoDAMnEd DEATH of revivals, franchise adaptions, and restagings taking up the Broadway and greater theater markets.

I get why it's happening; I do. Musical theater, even shows that never make it out of Regional productions (Be More Chill, btw, I'm so proud of you bby :'-D ) are REALLY FREAKING EXPENSIVE, not just to stage, but also to develop. Broadway productions nowadays regularly go upwards of TENS OF MILLIONS OF DOLLARS in costs.

Those costs are more and more frequently being met through funding by large groups of wealthy investors, who can expect basically little to no return on that investment. Only a select few shows that make it to the Great White Way do well enough to turn a profit (let alone the kinds of numbers that Hamilton, DEH, and Wicked continue to make), and more and more shows are closing in defict or once they break even. (Coincidentally, this is probably why we're seeing more and more straight plays on Broadway, especially in limited engagements. They're quicker, cheaper, and still have the same level of prestige.)

It makes sense then to assume that a show linked to an already successful property has a better chance of reaching that break-even mark, or perhaps generating a small return, than a more original idea. It's a surer bet, and we've seen it a lot these past few seasons. Anastasia, Beetlejuice, Pretty Woman, Moulin Rouge, Mean Girls... we get it. We promise. Investors want some security in an extremely and notoriously insecure market before they're willing to lay out the dough.

I get it. Everybody gets it.

And, to be fair, some of those shows are and continue to be GOOD. Tony nominees and award winners, even. But here's the problem: it's boring.

And not because I know how Act 2 ends without getting spoilers on tumblr. Unless they're younger than ten, the population of Broadway-and-musicals fans generally has a good handle on where a show's relevant plotlines are going. It's really not the wanting to know the end that keeps your butt in your overpriced red velvet seat and your eyes on the stage. It's the score, the words, occasionally the choreography, and most importantly the magicians on, off, and backstage bringing those things to life in a new and interesting way.

The antithesis of this, then, is having to watch slavish recreation of iconic scenes, lines, and characters from iconic films, presented Onstage! (TM), now with Bonus Songs! for your reconsumption. (Yes, Pretty Woman, I'm looking at you.)

Hey, I love Pretty Woman the Movie, slightly dodgy messages about feminity aside. I love it as a movie, and I really don't need to watch the knock off version of it, even if it comes in a shiny Broadway package.

Anastasia, and Beetlejuice, on the other hand, work extrodinarily well as musicals because they are NOT carbon copies of the original, somehow miraculously transplanted onto the stage.

Ironically, musicals based on original ideas are actually some of the most successful and well reviewed recent productions. Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Come From Away, and Hadestown this season are all original works, and well, look at them. (Fishy, huh? Coincidence, I think the fuck not.)

Recently I got to see The Prom on Broadway, the day after I saw Pretty Woman. The contrast between shows and my enjoyment of them was well defined. I couldn't look away from The Prom, despite many of the major story beats being as obvious as our Cheeto-in-Chief's spray tan. I and the entire rest of the theater were completely engaged by what was going on onstage, both comedically and dramatically. At Pretty Woman, I found myself checking the Playbill to see how many songs were left for me to make it through and anxiously comparing the size of my thighs to the dancers onstage to pass the time (ah, pre pro Body Issues, welcome back! We all thought you'd retired!)

Three guesses which show I'd choose to see again.

When I read that Waitress was closing, the first thing I did was panic and start marking pre January weekends where I would both be free and possibly have disposable income (I've never gotten to see the show, and frankly I would like too). My second reaction was, yes, to mourn the closure of a wonderful show, but it was mixed with hopeful anticipation. Waitress had a good long time in the sun, and just like a well lived life, eventually it must and should end. It's better, in my humble student opinion, to live with memories and cast albums (and regional productions) than the stodgy life of a show that's jealously clung to its Broadway berth through the tourist-and-date-night trade (*cough*Phantom*cough*). It's sort of like your 40 something mother taking selfies in booty shorts in an effort to prove she's still 'hip' and in her twenties. Cringe.

Ephemera is the nature of live performance, and probably part of its allure. And just like in the natural world, old things have to end so that new things can become. Waitress closing is a vital part of this cycle.

Broadway has a limited number of theaters. That's a hard and absolute fact. Maybe a quarter of them are effectively taken off the market for new shows by productions apparently cursed with immortality. Waitress has just opened up another spot both physically and creatively for a new project- hopefully something we haven't seen before- and I hope to God, Satan, and Sondheim that it doesn't get filled with another franchise spinoff, celebrity jukebox musical, or -Lin Miranda forbid - yet another revival.

Why the revival hate, though? Aren't revivals an major way to revisit the landmark and important musicals of the past and bring them to a new audience?

Well, yes. They are, especially when they're staged and presented with the emphasis on letting the music and words speak for themselves and giving the actors leeway to work with the material, without the typical levels of Broadway Extra (TM) and creative meddling from the producers. (The recent Lincoln Center staging of A Chorus Line is a good example of the stripped down style I'm talking about.) But even if they have their place, once again, revivals (while valuable and cool and all that) are Something We've Already Seen.

Let's take Newsies for example. A show with a huge fan base (mostly teen, mostly girls) who I frequently see wishing for a revival.

Now, I am a raging Newsies fan. Newsies is the show that got me started on attempting to make a profession out of dance and theater. I can sing both the OBC and Live albums back to front. I may or may not have had embarrassing crushes on certain cast and characters that I will take to my grave (I'll never tell and you'll never know, mwahhaha). So, do I love and worship ever iteration of this show? Yes. Do I wish I had been able to see either the Natl Tour or Broadway productions? Hell yes, with all my heart. Do I wish the Gatelli choreography was in any way accessible for me to learn? More than I want Broadway tickets to cost less than my soul, kidney, and hypothetical but unlikely first born combined.

But do I want a Broadway revival? Hell FUCKING No.

It's over, it's done, and it lives on in reinterpretation in regional and junior productions. Good. That, to be quite honest, is where it should belong.

It doesn't need to be rehashed on the biggest stages, and to be frank, neither do most of the ultra popular revivals that have been happening. (Yes, Ali Stoker is awesome and deserves the world, but Broadway does not need Oklahoma. If you need to see it that bad, go find a high school production somewhere. I recommend the midwest.) Broadway does not need 1776 (even though I am looking forward to it). Broadway does not need a Sweeney Todd revival (even though I want one like I want ice cream after suffering through jazz class in an un-air-conditioned studio on a 90 degree afternoon with no breeze. Seriously, I might be making sacrifices at my altar to this cause in the back of my closet).

Broadway needs musicals that are at least nominally original, and if not, come from something obscure enough (Kinky Boots, Waitress, Newsies) that they can make their own way. Barring that, investors, writers, and directors, please have the courage and decency to take established content in a new direction. Please, I'm begging you. I'd honestly-and-truly much rather sit through something that didn't try to shove the better version of itself down my throat even as it bored and annoyed me to tears. If I'm going to pay $80+ to sit through two hours of something terrible (and less engaging than my dancer body image issues) at least let me get my money's worth in unique horribleness.

#broadway #newsies #hadestown #mean girls #anastasia the musical #musical theater #waitress #hamilton #beetlejuice #tony awards

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