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sslow-dancer · 4 years ago

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“You Need Some Help?” (Josuke Higashikata x Reader)

Warnings: none!

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, josuke x reader, sfw, fluff, new school, new kid

Description: It’s your first day at Budogaoka High, Josuke notices your confusion and agrees to show you around the school. Along the way, he introduces you to his friends and decide to hang out.

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You walk down the streets of Morioh, doing your best not to get distracted by the numerous signs of shops you pass by. Your knees occasionally hitting the new school bag you have in your hands.

It was a new town, new school, new people to you and your family. However, despite having to create new (probably awkward) introductions in this town, your parents seemed extremely happy when you all arrived. Going from living in Osaka all the way to Morioh was a drastic change. Osaka was constantly loud and full of tourists, you almost felt like you saw more foreigners than Japanese citizens. Though, you still miss those loud noises and tourists in a way. Morioh is quiet, receives visitors in the warmer seasons and rather friendly for the most part, making your parents even more excited when you moved there.

You look at the time on your watch, it reads, 8:00AM. You sigh stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, meeting the entrance of the school. Your eyes dart at the multiple groups of boys and girls around your age laughing and communicating with their friends as they enter and hang out around the school. You bite your lip, scanning around to see if there’s anyone who can help you navigate the school. Gosh, I don’t want to be late! you think.

“You need some help?” A curious deep voice asks behind you. Your eyes widen, a little startled at this person’s sudden question. You turn around, you’re in aww when you perceive the person in front of you.

The person is a boy of around 6-foot height, his hair in a 1950s-like pompadour, a chiseled face, sapphire eyes and is wearing a uniquely decorated school uniform. You almost blush at his rather handsome appearance, but you manage to stop yourself from doing so. You stutter,

“y-yeah. I do. I’m uh- new here.” you laugh slightly, hoping he doesn’t point out your nervousness. Though to your surprise, he only replies politely with a kind smile on his face,

“Oh okay well, I can show you around-“

“Thank you so much-“

“but first, I’d like to know your name.”

You cringe at your rudeness of interrupting him, you clear your throat, ready to give him your name and your sincere apology,

“I apologize for interrupting your words but um, my name is L/N F/N. I go by my first name. It’s very nice to meet you.” you immediately bow after you’re done answering.

“Higashikata Josuke, nice to meet you.” he says with a bow back. Josuke smiles when he sees you nervously kicking at the pebbles on the ground. ‘They’re kind of cute’ he thinks. He breaks the silence,

“Now that that’s done, let me show you around. We got time for most of the school, I think.” He leads you to the entrance, you follow next to him as you both walk up the steps. He stops abruptly, his eyes scanning around the schoolyard,

“That’s weird...”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well my friends usually meet me around this time so we can go to class together, but they’re somehow not here yet. Huh, weird.” You bite your lip, he lets out a sigh,

“It’s whatever, I’ll just see them later. Let’s go. I don’t wanna be responsible for you being late on the first day. Come on.” He waves you over to show you around the first floor. You nod, placing your bag over your shoulder as you follow him in.

Though the school is large, Josuke managed to explain the different sections and hallways pretty well. You were impressed at how the map wasn’t very useful. He’s nice enough to lead you to your first home room class.

“So basically this is it, here’s your room and hopefully you remember your way around after.” You chuckle at his statement. You point,

“You aren’t part of 1A?”

“Oh no, I’m part of 1B but it’s not far from here. If ya want, I can wait outside for you once class is over.”

“Oh no! That’s alright, thank you though. I think I’ll be fine.” You chime, smiling at him. Josuke smiles, he waves at you,

“Well I’m off, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah!”

And with that, the bell rings and you’re off to first period.

~ Time Skip ~

You practically sprint out of your seat once dismissal arrives. You were rather hungry despite having lunch earlier, the bento your mother prepared you that morning didn’t fill you up. You rush out the class to avoid getting pushed by multiple students gathering outside the schoolyard to walk home, get picked up and wait for the bus. You’re surprised to hear your name get called out once you’re close to the gates,

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!”

You turn around to see Josuke, his body pressed against the front doors stairs’ railing with 2 other guys standing next to him. They both turn their heads to look at you, one of them slightly taller than the other. He waves again to get you to come closer,

You blink, walking back towards their direction. He smiles when you meet face to face, he holds his hand out to them,

“These are my friends, Okuyasu and Koichi. Okuyasu, Koichi, this is Y/N.”

You blush, you aren’t one to be introduced to people, you’re usually the one introducing yourself. The slightly shorter one, Koichi, smiles and nods at you,

“It’s very nice to meet you. Josuke was just telling us about you!”

You nod, blushing even more at the fact that you were even worth speaking about. Okuyasu furrows his eyebrows, putting his hands in his pockets as he looks you up and down,

“Huh, you are pretty cute-“ Koichi nudges his arm harshly, Okuyasu lets out an “ow” and frowns as he backs up from you.

You giggle, “it’s okay Koichi,” you turn to Okuyasu and nod, “I bet he meant no harm.”

Josuke rubs at his neck, waiting for the slightly awkward introduction to end. You look behind you and sigh,

“I gotta go. It was lovely meeting you all but I’m really hungry and need to get back home-“

“You’re hungry? Well actually, we were just about to get some lunch together at that new Italian place that just opened. You wanna come?” Josuke asks curiously.

You bite your lip, looking at your watch. You let out deep breath and nod. ‘Josuke did ask so nicely so.. why not?’ you think.

You all decide to walk down to the restaurant. You make quick conversation with Okuyasu and Koichi. Josuke walks next to you, keeping quiet. He takes a few quick glances at you, wanting to speak but getting too shy to do so.

You are met with the friendly welcome of the main and only chef, Tonio. You learn that he’s originally from Italy and opened his restaurant in hopes of bringing people health and happiness with the help of his dishes.

You all spend around an hour there, talking and laughing as Tonio prepares the courses for you all. You are surprised when you learn about the bizarre things that happens to one’s body when one eats his meals. You about threw up when you gobbled up the pasta that Tonio claimed would help your sudden stomach pains. You were almost scared that he was trying to hurt you and that Josuke and his friends played you but luckily, that was not the case and definitely not something you’d expect out of the boys you met.

Josuke slightly glares at Okuyasu as he tries to continuously flirt at you. He didn’t know why he felt a sense of frustration but he did know that he wanted to speak to you. Perhaps it was jealousy? Though Josuke didn’t want to take that into consideration.

You wave a goodbye to Tonio, smiling as you think about how much you’re going to tell your parents about this place. You let out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction as the four of you exit the restaurant. You jump excitedly,

“That was so fun! Thanks for inviting me guys.” You say with a huge grin on your face. You didn’t know you’d open up this fast but in a way, you were glad that you did.

“Sure! We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Koichi says, waving at you. Okuyasu walks next to Koichi, waving too “you stay cute, alright?”

You giggle nodding, waving as you watch them walk down the sidewalk. You turn to Josuke,

“Hey, aren’t you going down with them? Oku told me your neighbors.”

“Yeah but um.. I was hoping I could walk you home..”

Your eyes widen, his suggestion making your heart flutter. Josuke laughs nervously,

“That’s unless you don’t want me to! I just thought ‘cause it can be a bit dangerous to walk around this late especially when you’re new in town and I-“

You cut him off, “I’d love if you did that. Thank you.”

It’s Josuke’s turn for his heart to flutter. He was beginning to think that he liked you, but not so much in a friend kind of way. But then again, he had just met you so he didn’t know why he was acting so shy.

You lead him to your house, which was luckily not to far from Tonio’s place. The walk was fairly quiet, but not awkward at all. You enjoyed the silence shared between you two. You stop in your tracks, facing him,

“Well, this is it. Thank you again, I wish for your walk to be safe too.” You say to him, he smiles. God his smile is so cute, you think. Wait, what? Why am I thinking that?

Josuke sighs “yeah, thank you.” You notice the quietness in his voice, you chime,

“Hey, you alright? You didn’t talk much when we were with Koichi and Okuyasu.”

“I’m fine...I’m just-“

You nod for him to continue, he sighs,

“I- I wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out with me alone sometime after school this week? I wanna get to know you better...”

You blush at this. You look down at your feet, biting your lip as you think about hanging out with him. Well he is pretty cute...

“Again, if you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too! I’m not gonna force you or anything-“

You giggle at his nervousness, you nudge at his shoulder,

“Quit trying to take everything back. Of course I’ll hang out with you. After school, right?”

Josuke is taken aback by your confidence, but he manages to nod. You smile,

“Imma go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say, walking up to the front door. He nods again.

Josuke blushes hard once you’re out of his sight. He mentally beats himself up for being awkward as he walks back to his house. Though after a while, he manages to crack a smile once he realizes he was still able to ask you out.

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A/N: Hi! So I’m back :P

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kjack89 · 3 years ago

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An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 13/14)

When this Author picked up the mantle left behind by the previous Lady Whistledown, it was with the intention of bringing a little levity to the otherwise long and sometimes dull proceedings that encompass the season, and to provide some color commentary that pokes fun at those otherwise generally unwilling to make light of themselves.

To that end, this Author has remarked upon and highlighted the general scandals that accompany this season as every season, the kind that serve to provide some drama to otherwise dull lives, but risk very little in terms of lasting damage.

This Author has never intended for this to cause actual harm, and as such, owes an apology to the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire. This Author does not dabble in morals, or legality; the sole concern of this column has been amusement, and the ruin of two gentlemen otherwise described by most who have met them as good men is something this Author cannot and will not be a part of any longer. While this Author cannot overstate that there was no prior knowledge of the truth behind the Marquess’s marriage, nonetheless the extra attention shone on it by and through this paper has brought harm, and for that, this Author is truly sorry.

While no promises can be made in regards to accidentally reporting similar in the future, this Author will certainly make every attempt to better vet sources before publishing rumor and innuendo. And the promise this Author does make is that the only additional mention of the Marquess of Enjolras or Mr. Grantaire in this paper will be for happy tidings, with best hopes for whatever they may face in the future. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 JUNE 1831

The summons did not arrive with the usual fanfare, so much so that Enjolras almost missed them entirely.

No gilded envelope hand stamped with the King’s own seal, no scarlet-clad guard from the palace delivering it. Just a small, plain parchment envelope instructing Enjolras to attend to His Majesty the King the following day.

In truth, he very nearly almost missed it entirely, since Porter, who normally would have brought him such things, was confined to bed for the immediate future as he recovered – and the surgeon had been quite strict in his instructions. But Grantaire, far less used to having the number of servants Enjolras did, had seen it sitting on the table in the foyer and brought it into the dining room with him when he came in for breakfast.

“This is good news,” he told Grantaire after scanning through the note, though Grantaire didn’t look convinced.

“To be summoned in front of those with the power to strip you of your titles and lands and throw you in the Tower for the rest of your days, unless they decide to chop off your head instead?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Better a meeting with the King and Queen than the constable,” he pointed out. “Besides, there’s a limit to what they can do, and if they’re intervening now, it will serve to prevent the worst from happening.” He stood to leave the breakfast table before pausing and bending to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “In any case, the usual death in this situation would be by hanging, not beheading.”

“Because that’s so comforting a thought,” Grantaire said sourly.

“It should be.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The thought of you being hanged instead of beheaded?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “No, that the King wants to meet with me. I’m not fool enough to think my death by anything other than old age would bring you any comfort.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “Going out in a blaze of glory as you attempt to bring the whole damned system to its knees might.”

“Only if you are by my side as proof that I have won you over in the end.”

Grantaire’s expression softened for a moment. “I would die by your side in an instant, but I don’t think that’s proof of anything.” He kissed Enjolras before returning to the subject at hand. “In any case, why should the King wanting to meet with you bring me any comfort whatsoever?”

“Because it means the Crown wants this handled quickly and quietly,” Enjolras said. “Meaning very likely no public trial, and almost certainly no public execution.”

“That would be more comforting without the qualifiers ‘very likely’ and ‘almost certainly’.”

Enjolras sighed. “There is very little in life that is absolutely certain besides death and taxes.”

Grantaire smirked. “And as I have heard you rail about numerous times, the certainty of taxes is not always applied evenly.”

“Do you know, that may be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me,” Enjolras said, grinning at him.

“Oh, hush,” Grantaire said, but he was laughing, and seemed, for the moment at least, to forget his concerns about Enjolras’s impending appointment with the Crown.

They resurfaced in full force the following day as Enjolras adjusted his cravat while waiting for the carriage to pull around. “How do I look?” he asked, and Grantaire cast a baleful eye at him.

“Dressed well enough for a meeting with the King and Queen, and not at all like you’re headed to imprisonment or worse.”

Enjolras managed not to roll his eyes, mostly because he did not think it would help the situation. “Luckily for both us, I highly doubt the latter options will come to pass.”

But Grantaire didn’t smile, just reaching out to take Enjolras’s hand. “Just come back to me,” he whispered.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Enjolras told him, his voice low.

Grantaire sighed. “You know I’m going to be a nervous wreck until you do,” he said. “Just like I am every time you’re in danger, even if normally you’re the idiot who’s put yourself there.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Arguably I’ve put myself in this danger as well.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “We’ve had this argument before,” he said evenly.

“Yes, and I still refuse to cast any blame on you.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “An argument we’ll have to continue another time, it seems.”

Now Enjolras managed a real smile. “Yes, and all the more reason for me to return. You know I hate to leave a fight unfinished.”

“No, you hate to leave a fight unwon,” Grantaire said pointedly, but for the first time all morning, he looked a little less miserable, and Enjolras took that as a small win in and of itself.

“Are they not one and the same?” he asked innocently, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, who stopped him, his face falling again.

“Enjolras—” he started, and Enjolras frowned.

“What?”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment before blurting, “I have never once wished you to be less than who you are, and I do not wish it now. The man I love does not back down from a challenge, and his tongue is sharper than any sword.” He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. “But I beg of you, tread lightly. I will not love you less for holding back if it means you survive to fight another day.”

Enjolras did kiss him then, a slow, heated kiss that said hopefully everything he couldn’t bring himself. “I cannot promise my mouth will not get me in trouble. But I do promise I will not deliberately seek it out.” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras gave him a pointed look. “It’s as good a promise as you will get from me.”

“I know.”

“And yet you don’t seem satisfied.”

Grantaire sighed. “I will be satisfied when you are home with me again.”

“And with luck, that will be before you know it,” Enjolras told him bracingly, so convincingly that he almost believed it himself, enough to get him out the door and into the carriage before finally allowing himself to feel the nerves he’d been trying to swallow all morning.

What he had told Grantaire was the truth: this meeting almost certainly meant no real punishment was in store for him.

But he had very little idea of what was in store for him. And that worried him most of all.

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Enjolras slowly closed the door behind him, unsurprised when Grantaire immediately appeared from the drawing room, a glass of whiskey in hand, which, judging by the glassiness of his eyes, wasn’t the first he’d had. “Are you ruined?” he asked.

“Define ruined,” Enjolras said, a little grimly.

Grantaire scowled. “Perhaps now is not the time to be glib.”

Enjolras just shook his head as he crossed to him, dropping a kiss on his lips and grabbing the glass of whiskey from his hand, downing it in one gulp. “I wasn’t,” he rasped, handing the glass back to Grantaire and making his way into the drawing room. “The fact is that there is a limit to the punishment I can receive, barring criminal conviction and without an Act of Parliament.” He collapsed onto the couch, reaching up automatically to loosen his cravat. “The Crown has taken what actions it can, which is to say, I am no longer the Viscount of Digne.”

He delivered the words solemnly, but Grantaire just blinked in response. “I did not realize that you were.”

“It is a customary title bestowed upon the current Marquess of Enjolras, with some associated lands,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “Both will be given to more deserving peers, I’m sure.” He hesitated before adding, “Also, none of our issue will be eligible to inherit my title or any lands, save for that which I own outright.”

Grantaire stared blankly at him. “Any of our issue?” he repeated. “As in children?”

Enjolras made a face. “Well, technically my issue. I don’t think the Crown cares so much about yours.” He cleared his throat. “But if I were to remarry and sire children, none of those children would inherit.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “And what are the chances of that?”

“Absolutely none,” Enjolras said, barking a dry laugh. “The King has also told me that my services to his Court will no longer be necessary, meaning my various ceremonial duties will doled out to others and my power at Court, so to speak, is diminished. Beyond that, I retain my title of Marquess and associated lands and riches, which means I will lead a very comfortable life.” He reached out for Grantaire’s hand, lacing their fingers together before raising his hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “With you at my side, and without having to hide. So to answer your question, no, I don’t consider that ruin. I consider that a gift.”

Grantaire looked relieved, but he still hesitated. “Even though I will be almost certainly landless and penniless?” he asked, and when Enjolras just frowned at him, he sighed and elaborated, “I doubt highly my father will continue to grant me my allowance and use of the houses when he receives Le Cabuc’s letter.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “The Enjolras purse has sustained this family for generations. There’s more than enough left to take care of the man I love.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment. “Yet you don’t seem completely satisfied. What else did the King say?”

“Well—”

Before Enjolras could elaborate further, someone cleared her throat from the doorway, and they both turned to look at Enjolras’s mother, who looked unusually somber. “Am I interrupting?”

On instinct alone, Enjolras started to pull his hand away from Grantaire’s, but Grantaire held tight, squaring his shoulders as he met Enjolras’s mother’s expression coolly. “As a matter of fact, you are. Your son and I are having a private conversation.”

He turned back to Enjolras, who tried not to laugh at the look on his mother’s face. But to his surprise, his mother did not immediately snap some dismissive rebuttal, instead inclining her head slightly. “And you have my apologies for intruding, especially at this trying time. But I need to speak to my son, alone, especially in light of his recent visit to the palace.”

Enjolras wasn’t surprised that she had somehow heard about his summons. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me,” Grantaire said firmly. “Your son and I are sharing our lives, and that includes dealing with whatever family affairs you’ve brought with you.” He again turned to look at her. “And need I remind you, your part in our deception has not yet been revealed, but I will be more than happy to tell anyone and everyone who will listen what drove your son to the desperation of a fake marriage in the first place. I doubt highly your friends among the nobility will be impressed by what they learn.”

Enjolras’s mother’s lips pursed, but again, Enjolras was completely thrown by her response. “Thank you,” she said simply, and Grantaire’s cold expression slipped as he glanced over at Enjolras, who just shrugged. “I can see that you are protective of my son, and while I may not appreciate your tone, I do appreciate knowing that my son has found someone who loves him as...vigorously as you clearly do.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed, but Enjolras cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he told Grantaire, squeezing his hand once more. “I trust her enough to have a conversation with her, and I can fight my own battles as needed.”

“Are you certain?” Grantaire asked in an undertone, eyeing Enjolras’s mother warily. “I believe you can fight your own battles, but it’s her I don’t trust…”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “I have managed this long,” he assured him.

“Fine.” Grantaire stood, but before leaving, he bent and kissed Enjolras, a long, slow kiss that Enjolras was fairly certain was for his mother’s benefit more than his own.

Not that he minded, since getting to kiss Grantaire and enrage his mother in the same blow was as close to perfection as Enjolras was likely to see in his lifetime.

Then Grantaire straightened again and winked at Enjolras before finally leaving, sidling past his mother with little more than a second glance. For her part, his mother looked mostly impassive at the display she had just witnessed, and she finally fully entered the room, perching imperiously on the armchair. “I suppose it’s too much to hope for tea,” she said with a sniff.

Enjolras barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You might have heard that my butler was attacked,” he said sourly. “I’m sorry if him being laid up recovering from being shot is inconvenient to you.”

“I did hear about Porter, yes, but that’s not to what I was referring,” she said. “Have the servants started fleeing en masse?”

“None have yet offered their resignations, if that’s what you mean,” Enjolras said.

“Of course it’s what I mean,” she snapped. “This is a tainted household now – I doubt most will want to stay. Especially as they’ve no way to ingratiate themselves with whomever the next Marquess will be.” Her lips pursed again. “Do you even know which distant relative is your heir, now that you will almost certainly never sire children of your own?”

Enjolras shrugged unconcernedly. “A third cousin, isn’t it? Lives somewhere out in the west, if memory serves.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“You once told me all about him when I threatened to abdicate after Father died,” Enjolras said mildly. “You seemed to think it would convince me to think otherwise.”

“Clearly it did.”

Enjolras laughed dryly. “I hate to tell you, Mother, but that actually played a very small part in my decision.”

She scowled. “Perhaps you should have abdicated back then. It may have made for an easier transition for all involved.”

“Perhaps so,” Enjolras said honestly, as it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. “But we are well past that point now.”

“In more ways than one.” She paused, giving him a searching look. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to convince you to reconsider.”

Enjolras shook his head. “None.”

His mother nodded, her expression unreadable. “Then that’s the end of it.”

Enjolras hesitated, before saying, as casually as he could manage, “You seem…decidedly less surprised by this whole situation than I would expect.”

“What precisely is there to be surprised about?” she asked.

There were any number of things that Enjolras had expected her to be either shocked or scandalized by, let alone surprised, but the look on her face stopped him. “You mean…you knew?”

“That you were…otherwise inclined?” she provided delicately. “Of course I knew. A mother always knows.” Her expression twisted. “Though I rather hoped you would grow out of it, or at least do the sensible thing and marry a woman while seeking your amusement elsewhere.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I’m not certain I see that as the sensible thing.”

She considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But more sensible than being stripped of your lands and titles.”

“Not all my lands, or all my titles,” Enjolras told her. “The Viscount of Digne is the only major one.”

She made a face. “No real loss there, the bishop in that area rules it with an iron fist and will probably be glad to see the backside of our family.”

Enjolras trusted her to know more about it than he did or frankly cared to. “And there’s a few minor lands that will be redistributed but for the most part, Grantaire and I have made it out unscathed.”

Again his mother made a face. “I don’t know that I would go that far—”

“I imagine you wouldn’t,” Enjolras muttered.

“—But all things considered, it could have been much worse.”

On that, at least, she was correct. “And I’m certain you’ll be glad to know that your own holdings will not be affected, nor your allowance,” he told her. “And Grantaire is letting you keep the dowry.”

That seemed to surprise her. “That is...generous of him,” she allowed, before frowning at her son. “But you speak as if all you think I care about is money.”

Enjolras just arched an eyebrow. “You have given me little evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“Caring about the well-being of my only son isn’t evidence enough?”

He managed not to roll his eyes, but just barely. “Faux sincerity isn’t your strong suit, Mother,” he informed her. “If you wish to convince me, you’ll have to try a different tack.”

To his surprise, she laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, when all the dust has settled,” she said, standing and brushing invisible dust from her skirt before telling him, “I will be leaving the city for the near future, and possibly even the country for a bit. I need my friends and allies at court to think that I was not party to this.”

“You weren’t,” Enjolras said, his brow furrowed. “And you are certainly at liberty to tell anyone you need to as such.”

“I have, and I will,” she said. “But I will also not outwardly condemn you the way they would wish, and that to some is enough to make them think otherwise.”

For the first time in what Enjolras was certain was his entire life, he was speechless. He had frankly expected her to do exactly that in order to maintain her social standing. “You could,” he blurted, ignoring the raised eyebrow she gave him. “Condemn us, I mean. I would not hold it against you if you did.”

“You and I both know that you absolutely would,” she said dryly. “But more than that, you are my son. For all your faults and all our disagreements, public and otherwise, that has never changed. And it will not change now.”

Enjolras was again taken aback by what she said. “Thank you,” he managed, before adding, a little wryly, “I think.”

A small smile crossed her face. “You’re welcome, I think. And now I should leave you to the start of your new life.”

She turned to head to the door, clearly deeming her role in this complete for the time being, but Enjolras stopped her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What do you think of Grantaire?” he asked. “Now that you know what he is to me.”

She looked back at him, surprised. “You have never sought my approval before.”

“And I’m not seeking it now,” Enjolras said. “Just curious what you think.”

She nodded slowly. “He is not who I would have chosen for you,” she said after a long moment. “But then again, this life is not what I would have chosen for you.”

It was no more than what Enjolras had expected, but before he could say anything, she continued, “I know what you think of me, that you think me cold, and vain, and cruel. And there is certainly more than a little truth to that.” He looked up at her sharply, surprised by this most of all. “I know I shall always play the role of villain in your story. But despite what you may think, I have only ever wanted you to be happy.” She hesitated. “And it makes me terribly sad to know you have chosen a path where the world very well may never let you be happy.”

Enjolras just shook his head slowly. “The difference between you and I, Mother, is that I have never needed the approval of the world to be happy.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Hang what anyone else thinks. So long as I have Grantaire, we will make our own happiness.”

She returned his smile. “I do not doubt that you will. As I said before, you two make quite the pair, and whatever else you may think, I am glad that you two found each other.”

With that, she left, and Enjolras sat where he was for a long moment, digesting everything that had transpired. This had been a day of surprises, from his meeting with the King and Queen to now his conversation with his mother, and he shook his head slowly before standing to go find Grantaire.

He found him in the library, sitting sideways in an oversized armchair, his legs draped over the arm of the chair as he skimmed through a book with seemingly little interest. He brightened when he saw Enjolras come in, tipping his head up automatically for a kiss. “Is she gone?” he asked as Enjolras settled onto the sofa across from him.

“For now, yes.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “But not forever?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not even this scandal was enough to be rid of her forever. But I am...strangely not as bothered by that thought as I once would have been.”

Grantaire blinked. “Did she hit you on the head while she was in there with you?”

“Something like that, anyway,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “But enough about my mother. Where were we?”

He eyed Grantaire appreciatively, mentally trying to determine the mechanics of what they could do with him in that position, and Grantaire scowled. “Certainly not doing that,” he informed him, sitting upright. “You were finishing telling me about your audience with the King and Queen.”

“Oh. Right.” Enjolras shrugged and looked away. “Well, the Archbishop is apparently pushing for us to be excommunicated.”

Grantaire snorted. “Does that mean I no longer have to go to church?” he asked idly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, among other things. But there’s an issue.”

“What’s that?”

“We could be imprisoned if we’re excommunicated, for a start.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Just as we could be imprisoned for sodomy?”

Enjolras made a face. “The Crown has no intention of pursuing those charges,” he said. “But getting excommunicated could lend credence to future attempts at levying those charges, at likely the least opportune time.”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Well. We’ve faced worse prospects.”

Enjolras frowned. “You seem remarkably blasé about the prospect of excommunication, considering how concerned you’ve been about the possibility of imprisonment or worse for the other charges.”

“Mostly because you don’t seem particularly worried about it, and I imagine if this were an actual threat, you’d be somewhat less calm,” Grantaire said evenly. “Besides, I had several glasses of whiskey while you were out so it will take quite a bit for me to get riled at this point.”

“You didn’t seem to have any difficulty getting riled at my mother,” Enjolras pointed out.

Grantaire smiled grimly. “That was a more immediate danger.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Well, you’re not wrong about this not being an actual threat, I suppose. The Monarchy has little desire to create a public spectacle via excommunication and as the Head of the Church, I imagine that’s the end of the matter.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Does that mean you’re actually going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excommunication isn’t enough?” Enjolras asked, mostly rhetorically, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he sighed. “Fine… I need to get word to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. We have much to discuss ahead of our next meeting.”

“Are you purposefully avoiding the question, or…?”

“I promise I am not,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But they need to know, because this concerns all of us.” He paused, trying to figure out how to word what he needed to tell both Grantaire and his closest lieutenants. “I was...as surprised as any that the King did not wish to pursue any additional punitive matters. As a whole, the punishment dealt to me is mild, to say the least. And what troubles me is the reason he gave for why.”

Grantaire frowned. “He gave you a reason?”

Enjolras barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, he gave me many. Most were mere platitudes, that out of respect for the service of my father, he would take no additional measures, etcetera, but he also alluded to his hope that our...situation would not inconvenience my political work.” He cleared his throat before adding sardonically, “That he hoped our allies would not abandon us with my public declaration of depravity.”

“And you suspect he actually hopes the opposite,” Grantaire said slowly.

Enjolras nodded. “I’m not going to pretend that my political sympathies are or have ever been well-received at court, and I think most were content to look the other way and pretend that the protests and political actions were the fun side project of an otherwise bored noble. Something I would grow out of in time. But now…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire’s expression turned grim. “Now they might not be so content to look the other way.”

“No,” Enjolras agreed. “And if I or any of our number were to get arrested—”

“Arrested again, you mean,” Grantaire said with the hint of a smile that Enjolras did not return.

“—My position is no longer enough to stave off any significant consequences.”

Grantaire went very still. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning I may not be ruined. We may not be ruined. But Les Amis may be.”

----------

In lieu of coming over to Enjolras’s to discuss the situation, Combeferre suggested via return message that they call a special meeting of Les Amis. “That seems unusual,” Grantaire murmured, his brow furrowed as he read over the brief message. “Why would they not just come here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t want to be seen entering a den of sin,” he said, more blithely than he remotely felt.

“Jest all you wish, but you cannot pretend the thought hasn’t entered your mind,” Grantaire said. “Not that I believe any of our friends will turn on us entirely, but they are all trying to make marriages of their own, and to be tainted by association…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras just shook his head. “That is their prerogative, and I will not hold it against any man to abide by his conscience.”

“Or by the prospect of increasing his purse?” Grantaire asked sourly.

Enjolras shrugged again. “If that is truly their reasoning, I doubt highly we would be associates for much longer in any case.”

Still, it was with an unusual amount of trepidation that they approached the Musain, and Enjolras hesitated before instructing his driver to drop them off at the back of the building by the worker’s entrance. “I do not doubt they would still receive us at the front entrance,” he told Grantaire. “I am, after all, still a marquess and a certain amount of respect must be paid. But I would rather not put them in that position all the same.”

Grantaire managed a wan smile. “You need not explain yourself to me,” he said. “I understand as well as any that the situation is complicated.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “Speaking of,” he said carefully, “have you heard yet from your father?”

“No.” Grantaire’s tone was clipped as he avoided meeting Enjolras’s eyes, looking out the carriage window instead. “I have not heard from him one way or another, so I have no indication if he has yet received Le Cabuc’s letter.”

“Could Le Cabuc have been bluffing?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it,” he said. “He always did prefer my father to me.” He hesitated before adding, “I thought I might make a preemptive trip back to the house and gather some belongings. Just some personal effects, and things from my mother and sister that I would rather not lose to my father’s whims.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That is probably not a terrible idea.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

“I suspect that would cause more problems than it’s worth,” Grantaire said. “If I go by myself, I can hopefully slip in and out mostly unnoticed.”

Enjolras had expected that answer, but he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting, just a little. “Of course.”

Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, but Grantaire’s expression softened as he added, “Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love for you to return with me, or that I won’t miss you dreadfully while I’m gone.”

“But this is the reality of the life we’ve chosen,” Enjolras said heavily. “Going in the servants’ entrance to avoid being seen. Travelling incognito to not cause a scene. Less visitors or invitations to visit because people won’t wish to be associated with us.”

Grantaire eyed him warily. “I feel as though you are trying to make a point.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Just that I do not care about any of those things. But I would understand if you did, and if the reality of our life together does not align with what you may otherwise have expected.”

To his surprise, Grantaire laughed. “How many times must you and I have this conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wish that you had chosen a better life for yourself than one stuck with me, who was always titleless and is about to be in short order landless and penniless to boot, just as you wish I had chosen a better life for myself,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “But you and I both know that the best choice, the only choice, is each other and whatever accompanies that.”

Enjolras laughed as well, feeling a little relieved that they were on the same page in terms of what mattered. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Grantaire said smugly before reaching for Enjolras’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Une vie et un amour, remember?”

“Fidelitas usque ad mortem,” Enjolras said, his voice low, and Grantaire smiled.

“And I still aim to be.”

Together, they stepped down from the carriage and made their way into the Musain through the backdoor. The workers they passed barely gave them second glances, though Enjolras assumed that was likely because they recognized them as frequent patrons, and knew better than to stop or question them.

But despite arriving almost a half hour before the meeting Combeferre had called was set to begin, when they reached the backroom, they could hear the buzz of voices through the closed door. Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Has the meeting already begun?”

“It certainly appears that way,” Enjolras said, feeling inexplicably nervous as he stared at the closed door, straining to hear what was being said beyond it.

“Did Combeferre not say that it would start at 9?”

Enjolras nodded. “He did, but…” He trailed off, not willing to vocalize his doubts. Instead, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, walking in with Grantaire at his side. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood at the front of the room, the rest of their number assembled, all looking unusually somber, and all conversation stalled as soon as they looked back at Enjolras. “Forgive the interruption,” Enjolras said coolly, closing the door behind him. “I did not realize the hour of our meeting had changed.”

“It didn’t,” Combeferre said, his expression impassive. “But there was certain business we felt we should attend to before your arrival.”

“What sort of business?” Grantaire asked with a frown.

Combeferre did not seem deterred by his tone. “The business of determining if your continued membership amongst our association is beneficial or a detriment, mostly.”

“I see,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking in his chest. “Well, don’t let us impede your discussion.”

“We have nothing left to discuss,” Courfeyrac interjected. “All that remains is to vote.”

Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together firmly. Combeferre cleared his throat. “All those in favor of expelling Enjolras and Grantaire from our number due to their sexual deviance and the threat that it poses to Les Amis and our efforts?”

Not a single hand rose in the air, and Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’s hand.

“And all those opposed?”

As one, all of their friends raised their hands before standing and applauding. Joly and Bossuet were positively beaming, Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, and Combeferre stepped forward to embrace Enjolras. “There was never any doubt which way the vote would go,” he told Enjolras, “but I knew you would not be satisfied if there was no vote at all.”

“Besides, if we start exiling people for buggery, there are more than a few of us who would be in trouble,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully as he embraced Enjolras as well.

“Hear, hear,” Bahorel chortled.

Joly took Bossuet’s hand and squeezed it. “Grantaire helped us avoid a scandal of our own, and we owe him our loyalty,” he said. “Besides which, I swore to go through fire for you, and I would not forsake that oath lightly.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Enjolras said quietly, his chest tight with emotion.

Grantaire squeezed his hand once more before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “It appears I am not the only one who understands the meaning of loyalty until death.” Enjolras wordlessly squeezed his hand in return and Grantaire smiled at him before asking Courfeyrac, “But one of our number is missing, is he not? Where is your erstwhile roommate this evening?”

“Oh, he has found the girl he was looking for,” Courfeyrac said airily. “It turns out your little announcement was good for more than one thing – she was the one who swooned in his arms!”

Much laughter greeted that announcement and Enjolras shook his head. “Leave it to Marius…” he started before trailing off, glancing around the room at the smiling faces of each of his friends, all those whom he loved most in this world. “Thank you all,” he said softly. “I know this will not be easy, but I appreciate your continued faith and love.”

“Our goal has always been to fight against oppressive powers in whatever form,” Combeferre told him. “And condemning men based on consensual acts in their bed chamber would be playing into that oppression.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Bossuet interjected.

Enjolras raised both eyebrows. “What’s what?”

“No funny business,” Bossuet said, mock-sternly. “No suddenly agreeing with everything the other says just because it’s your lover saying it.”

Again everyone laughed and Enjolras shook his head good-naturedly. “I don’t think we’re in much danger of that.”

“After all,” Grantaire added slyly, “what I love far more than him agreeing with me is that delightful shade of red he gets when he so vehemently disagrees with me. Who am I to give that up now?”

“In truth,” Enjolras said when the laughter again died down, “we aim to keep things as much the same as we can.”

“And we’ll be relying on you lot to keep it that way,” Grantaire said.

“There’s one other promise we would ask,” Feuilly said, glancing around. “Or at least, that I would ask.”

Enjolras’s smile faded, just slightly, at Feuilly’s far more serious tone. “If it is in our power to grant it, we will.”

“No more lies.” There were a few murmurs of agreement that Feuilly waited to die down before continuing, “There is not a man among us who does not understand the reason for your deception, but we in this room are brothers, and we deserve the truth no matter what consequence it may bring.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand once more and squeezed it before affirming, “No more lies. We owe not just you the truth from here on out, but each other as well. And it’s the very least that we can give in return for your generosity and personal sacrifices.”

“In that case, let us open the wine and get the celebration started,” Jehan called, standing up on his chair to be seen. “To Enjolras and Grantaire!”

“To Enjolras and Grantaire!” everyone repeated, whatever glasses they had in hand, and Enjolras rolled his eyes with obvious affection before leaning in and kissing Grantaire as everyone cheered.

Grantaire was grinning as he pulled away, and that sight alone was enough to make everything they had endured and everything that they had left to endure absolutely worth it in Enjolras’s opinion. But before he could say anything to that effect to Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet grabbed Grantaire by both arms, tugging him away. “You owe us more than mere truth,” Joly said, with an almost evil grin. “You owe us details.”

“Exactly,” Bossuet said, wearing a matching smile. “And we want to hear all about your first time bedding Enjolras.”

“We promised the truth, not all the gory details,�� Grantaire protested, making a pleading face at Enjolras, who just laughed.

Before he could rescue him, Combeferre pulled him aside. “I wanted a moment, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

Enjolras clapped him on the shoulder. “For you, my friend, never. Especially as I believe I owe you especially an apology for our deceit.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I understand it more now,” he said. “And honestly, I’m surprised I did not put the pieces together earlier.”

“Grantaire said he was always a little obvious, even if I never noticed either,” Enjolras said good-naturedly.

But Combeferre just shook his head. “Grantaire may have been, but it’s you I should have noticed.”

“Me?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Looking back on it, all the clues were there, least of all how you allowed Grantaire to stay, not just for meetings, but well into the night when you were ostensibly working, a privilege bestowed on no one else. And I cannot help but think that if I had noticed sooner, we would have had more time to plan, to minimize the fallout.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “My friend, you could have told me until you were blue in the face that I was completely and obviously in love with Grantaire, and I would never have believed you,” he said. “It was something I needed to figure out with him.” He made a face. “Though you are right that I should have told you sooner, before we made our announcement, so that plans could have been made in advance, and for that, I do owe you an apology.”

“One that I readily accept,” Combeferre told him. “And the only recompense I ask from you is the answer to this: are you happy?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, without even needing to consider it. “More so than I thought was possible, or at least probable.”

Combeferre gave him a wide, genuine smile. “Then the rest we will deal with when or if the time comes.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt tight with emotion, with the weight of how much his friends cared for him and Grantaire. “I truly do not know how to thank you, how to thank everyone, for what you have given Grantaire and myself.”

“There is no need to thank us,” Combeferre said. “Especially since you have given us something equally precious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are free,” Combeferre said simply. “And that gives the rest of us hope.”

----------

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief mingled with happiness as he sat down in the waiting carriage. Grantaire clambered in after him, and sat down on the bench next to him instead of sitting across from him. “That went well.”

“That went far better than well,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “Surely you did not expect Combeferre or Courfeyrac to abandon you, or honestly any of our friends.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “In truth, I did not know what to expect.” He nudged Grantaire gently. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Whatever for?”

“For making my life complete,” Enjolras said honestly. “And so completely happy.”

Grantaire smiled at him, his eyes shining even in the dim light of the carriage, but he promptly ruined the moment by asking, “How much wine did you drink?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I had half a glass at best,” he protested. “Not nearly enough to undermine my sincerity. Nor my conviction that somehow, against all odds and, frankly, against our own efforts to the contrary, everything for us is turning out better than I ever could have imagined, let alone hoped.”

Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “We have been extraordinarily lucky,” he murmured.

“We have been,” Enjolras agreed, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “We have our friends, and we have each other. Whatever else comes our way, so long as we still have that, we will be fine.”

“More than fine,” Grantaire corrected, raising Enjolras’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Our future will be happy. Of that, I am as certain as anything.”

“Being in love really has changed you if you suddenly start espousing convictions,” Enjolras teased.

But Grantaire just smiled at him. “It’s changed us both.”

“For the better?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire kissed him, a gentle, sweet kiss that was a promise of more to come. “For the best.”

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #les amis #bridgerton au #canon era #regency au #chaptered #part 13 #fake marriage

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kaito-is-baby · 4 years ago

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Shoto Todoroki x Reader

A little bit of help

Okay, hiii~ so... I really don't know what this is, I finished boku no hero and I started to read the manga ASAP and now I just want to give some love to my baby todoroki but this is more like... I was trying to set the ambient for my idea of a Midoriya x "useless" reader scenario but then my love for Shoto took over me and it ended up being about him so... I will write that one someday

Warnings: none, it takes place on season 1 and has no angst. Also gender neutral reader (I think...)

The first class with the great All Might had ended and you felt... stupid.

Every single one of your teammates had incredible abilities at fighting

And there you were, with a sweet gas making them fall asleep, but only if you touched them

It could have been good if they weren't much better, there was no way to touch them.

You couldn't even find the invisible girl

And everytime you tried to approach the half an half haired boy a wall of ice would appear between the two of you

No matter how fast you ran or how hard you tried you felt absolutely useless

Your teammate had to carry you all the fight and you were just a burden for your team, you knew it

You knew you were useless since the very beginning. You had been working with your grandma, recovery girl, in the school nursery this last year and you loved it, don't get me wrong

But seeing all those brave kids getting into fights to save the world, thinking about yourself saving people that way... yeah, grandma had told you lots of times that your quirk did also save people but you weren't her, your quirk wasn't really useful at healing either. Yes you could put on a sweet dream someone who was in pain and that same fluid that made them dream could heal them but it couldn't save a life, maybe an arm but not a life

You wanted to go to the battle and rescue the civilians, you wanted to calm them and cure them when they needed it the most

So you decided to take the joining exam for the UA

You still couldn't understand how you made it through, you wanted to believe that even if your gas did not affect the artificial villains your strength sure did but it was... quite difficult to believe

And your only answer was that your cute little grandma had convinced then to let you join

Of course she claims they let you in because how you threw yourself to heal every single one of the soon to be heroes on the field even altough they were your rivals

But what they wanted was for you to beat the villains not to have a great teamwork and a sweet heart oh baby you should listen to your grandma

You tried to shake that thought of your brain and enjoy your very first day as an student on the UA

You failed

"Let's use our quirks to make our phisical abilities greater" yeah, that didn't work out

Luckily for you that thing about expelling the worst calificated was a lie because you were sure that either Midoriya or you were going back home forever that day

'Things can go better tomorrow' you think but yet again you fail in your prediction

After the disastrous fight on All Might's class you had obviously stated to all of your classmates and teachers that you were, in fact, useless

But then again, you already knew you were useless and yet chose to try and become a hero

And your mind could have thought of something better, maybe ask Aizawa for some help or a nicer classmate

But your feet moved towards Todoroki

If you try to give it a rational explanation you can actually find it. He was, alongside with Bakugo, the strongest one of the class and, being honest, you were not brave enough to get even near that angry boy

So yeah... you could say you chose to speak to him because he was the best prepared but deep inside you, you knew well it was the 15 years old teenage that you, even if you deny to accept, actually were. A handsome tall boy who fitted quite well on your type, and to be honest, everyone's, had fight against you, being pretty close, trying to touch any part of his body, avoiding his attacks and trying to prevent what he was going to do... maybe it had made you develope a little crush, but it was for sure little!

So you took the opportunity when you had it right in front your eyes

He approached you just after your fight

"I hitted you with that last wall of ice right?"

Yes, yes he did, you weren't fast enought to avoid the hit but you were stubborn enough to be too close to him even although you knew he would make an ice panel

Maybe in a desperate intent, you tried to make him step back and don't throw his attack at you directly

That failed

And now you had a little hurting mark on your right leg and your right arm

But you weren't angry, you both did what you had to do to get good grades, this was a friendly competition after all

"Yes but-"

"I'm sorry I may have been too tough for a first class fight" you could tell by his face this wasn't the apologies of someone who is genuinely sorry but of someone who knows it's polite to apologise after it

"it's nothing, really, you were fighting for that 10 and so was I, it's cool"

He nodded and turned his back

"Wait! Todoroki... could I ask you... a favour? Please" your checks- No! Your whole face- was turning red now, you were not good at asking for help and even less to someone you barely knew

"Hm?" He nodded again, giving you permission to request that favour

"I'm so weak, I just can't fight, I can't fight like you or Bakugo or even Iida or Uraraka I just... I can't, I can't do anything but to heal and stay still watching how everyone loses" he kept looking straight to your eyes, truth be said, he hadn't took his eyes out of yours since you started talking but now he looked confused and even kinda angry at your statements

"And so what?" Did he took you for an idiot? He surely talked to you like if you were a 6 years old kid

"That I want to be a hero" his eyebrowns bent "and I need help, I... no one has ever really taught me how to fight, no one saw any potential for that on me and... maybe if you could... give me some basic knowledge? I could at least avoid getting hit"

Silent

Absolute silent

You only heard one thing, your heart bumping at an scarily fast race and your

Not only it was beating, your stomach ached, your skin burned and you felt stupid for asking for help so you opened your mouth to retract your words and admit that it was an stupid idea

"I don't train anyone, I have my reasons, I won't train you or teach anything"

And with that he left you, even more disappointed than before

Of course that night you could only think about leaving the heroes course

But after thinking about it you chose to keep fighting

And from that day on, you would train everyday, without any exception.

It didn't mattered that your classmates would though you were a weirdo, you kept imitating every single thing they did.

You stopped attending those classes that were not about fighting, you did not needed them as much as you needed free time on the special playground that the UA had, there you could train much better than on your small room

And one day, while your classmates were eating- something that you hadn't done since the day you started using every second on the UA for training- your body failed you, it needed a break and you wouldn't accept it so it just failed to get some rest.

You weren't able to keep your breathing and your legs weren't going to obey you anymore

So you just... felt

And without having any real strength to stand back you stood there, surrendering

You had been weeks working with no hesitation and yet you hadn't improved in the slightest

You were giving up when Todoroki tended you his hand to lift you up

"I did not want to train you because I really don't want you to get hurt by my training or to feel that I am pressing you too much" you weren't really following him "but if you are going to do that to yourself all alone then it will be better if I help you so you can, at least, improve"

Was he agreeing to train you?

"But first, go eat, second attend all your classes and then we will train"

"Yes!" You answered, ready to become a real hero

#boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha insert #bnha headcanons #bnha todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x you #boku no hero imagines

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onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

Request: Can you write about the reader working in healthcare/retail (during or not during COVID-your choice) and she meets Billie and they hit it off?

A/N: So I wrote this a lot faster than I thought I would…don’t expect that to happen again. I hope this is okay. I decided to write about the members of healthcare we don’t always hear about. Also, my friend’s a vet so… enjoy?

Warnings: None? Brief mention of bugs?

It had been wandering around her neighborhood for weeks, but it wasn’t until today that Billie Dean paid it much attention. She’d assumed that the cat was one of her neighbor’s and they just let it roam around. She’d seen its lithe black form darting across the streets on days when she returned from filming late into the night, but besides briefly wondering about where it was going, she never spared it much thought.

However, as she peered under her deck at the sound of quiet meows, she realized she had a problem. She had been out working in her garden on one of her rare days off when she heard it. The medium had turned and seen a pair of eyes from across the yard, and despite her better judgement she went to investigate.

Now, as she stared at the black cat surrounded by her litter of 6, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting back to her garden anytime soon.

“Dr. Y/L/N, Lindsey just added another one to your morning.”

You tried not to groan in annoyance when you heard one of the vet assistants say this to you. The day had barely started, but things had been ridiculously busy. The practice you worked at had up to 5 other doctors working at a time on a regular weekday, but since today was Saturday, there were only two working.

Dr. Hahn and you.

The schedule had already been booked by the time you arrived to work, and it was just luck that you had a cancellation for your 11:30 slot. You had already planned on taking an early lunch when news of another appointment being scheduled came. You tried not to be annoyed because this was your job and you did love it. You were just exhausted. It had been a long week.

A long month really.

Since moving to L.A after finishing school, you hadn’t spent much time doing anything other than work. Let alone getting to know the city. You had jumped into your work and spent almost every waking minute thinking about it. As a new vet, you were trying your best to prove yourself and make a good impression at your job. You thought you were doing a fairly good job, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to have much time to yourself.

Other than walking your dog, Milo, who had made the cross-country trip with you, most of your free time was spent making sure you had the most up-to-date information out there to offer your clients. You didn’t want to be caught off guard, not again.

You eventually smiled at the assistant and thanked her despite wanting to glare instead.

“Thank you, Erin.”

It wasn’t her fault you weren’t getting your early lunch.

After corralling the cat and her kittens into the most suitable container she could find, Billie Dean was on her way to the vet. She had called a couple and unfortunately hadn’t been able to get an appointment so last minute. She had almost given up, when the last one she’d called had luckily had a cancellation for only about an hour away.

It was perfect timing until it took her almost 20 minutes to get the cats out from under the deck. The mom hadn’t trusted her immediately and it had taken some coaxing before she’d risked reaching out to pet the mother. While speaking more reassurances that she was sure the cats didn’t understand, Billie Dean collected all 6 kittens and the mother and loaded them into the front seat.

It wasn’t until she started driving that she realized she might be late. This clinic was almost 30 minutes away with normal weekend traffic. Billie Dean sighed before she made sure that all of the cats were still settled in the box before beginning to drive a little bit faster.

Hopefully she wouldn’t be too late.

“They’re late.”

You hadn’t realized it immediately because your last appointment ran over, but once 11:40 rolled around you realized that your 11:30 had never shown up.

You had looked over the details of the appointment quickly realizing that hopefully it would be routine kitten stuff. You hadn’t recognized the name of the owner because well, you didn’t watch much television. It wasn’t until the assistant you were working with for the morning, commented on it, that you realized that Billie Dean Howard was anything special.

“Oh no! She didn’t show up?? Ugh, I was dying to meet her.”

You turned to your disappointed assistant, Erin with a confused frown. You continued to type up your medical note from the last appointment before asking off-handedly.

“Who did you say she was again?”

If you had been paying more attention, you would have noticed Erin shoot you an incredulous look. Instead you were writing about the last patient’s bloodwork when the brunette finally answered you.

“Look, Dr. Y/L/N. I know you’re new to town, but how do you not know who Billie Dean Howard is?”

You just shrugged while shooting the younger woman a sheepish look. You were very good about being the last to know things. It wasn’t your fault you were so out of touch from school. There had hardly been any time for television when you were always studying.

“Sorry, you know I don’t watch much tv.”

Erin shook her head with a sigh before she decided to take pity on you. You finished typing your note and turned to face the other brunette as she explained to you who your missed appointment had been.

“She’s a famous medium who goes to various places around the world that are haunted for her television show. It’s so good, I watched an entire season yesterday.”

Before you had a chance to ask how that was possible, Lindsey appeared with a piece of paper and a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Your 11:30 is here.”

You looked at the clock, it was a quarter to noon, before you just nodded with a small smile. Lindsey handed the check in sheet to Erin who grabbed it with an excited squeal that made you nearly roll your eyes.

At least one of you were excited for this.

Billie Dean was beyond stressed. She had been making good time for her appointment, when the mom cat, she’d taken to calling her Bit, had decided to jump out of the box and explore her car. She’d been so distracted and worried that she’d slowed to the point that people were honking her off the road. She’d stopped in a parking lot to try and get Bit back into the box, but as soon as the door opened, she’d jumped out.

Billie had questioned her decision to not just ignore the cat this morning as she spent the next 15 minutes trying to catch Bit and return her to the car.

Now, she was really late and she knew that she had probably missed her appointment. She hurried inside with the box, making sure to hold onto Bit so she didn’t jump out again before opening the front door. She hurried toward the counter with an apologetic smile and a hopeful look.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a bit of a time getting here. I have an appointment for 11:30.”

Billie figured she didn’t need to give her name because the look on the receptionist’s face when she saw her was telling enough. She was used to having fans so she just smiled politely as the other blonde, Lindsey, her nametag said, nodded frantically and ran to the printer.

“Of course, Ms. Howard. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

Billie watched as the younger blonde nearly ran toward the back before she sat down with a sigh. She looked at the box of cats with a small smile. She scratched Bit’s chin before she checked on each of the kittens. They all looked so tiny and weak. They all were huddled up in the middle of the box sleeping on top of each other. It was truly adorable.

“Ms. Howard?”

The medium had been too busy contemplating how many of the kittens she could keep to realize that someone else had entered the waiting room. She looked up to see a brunette smiling at her and holding a door to the back open. She jumped up, clutching onto the box carefully before making her way over to the woman in scrubs.

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Erin just smiled and shook her head as she led Billie Dean to a nearby exam room. She’d already screamed silently before coming to get the blonde so she wouldn’t geek out, but she couldn’t help but be a little starstruck by the medium’s presence.

“It’s not a problem, we’re just glad to see kittens on our schedule.”

You waited while your assistant got the history from Billie Dean. From where you were seated in the pharmacy, you could hear some of what was being said. It sounded like a standard visit. No issues except for apparently a random cat decided to have kittens underneath Billie’s porch. You tried not to overthink this visit as you listened to the blonde talk to her assistant. You hadn’t been nervous before because you hadn’t really needed to be.

Except that was when you hadn’t known that you were going to be seeing someone who was famous. Someone whose name you didn’t even recognize, but that was beside the point. The point was that now that the idea was in your head, you were freaking out a little bit.

You could hear a slight accent in her voice and you couldn’t help but smile at it. It sounded cute.

You sat up slightly, startled at the sudden thought. You shook your head scolding yourself for being so unprofessional and attempted to push that thought to the back of your mind. You turned at the sound of the exam door opening and watched as Erin shut it behind her quietly with a huge smile on her face.

“She’s so cool. Oh my god that was so cool!”

She whisper screamed at you and you couldn’t help but laugh in amusement. Someone was clearly starstruck. Hopefully she could get through this without embarrassing them. Or at least her. Anyone. Hopefully no one would be embarrassed.

“Hi, Ms. Howard. I’m Y/F/N, Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

You were surprised by what greeted you inside the exam room. The cat that was bouncing around the room was less of a surprise than the woman who sat in one of the chairs against the wall. You had to stop herself from showing your surprise as you took in the blonde who you’d never heard of until about an hour ago.

Billie Dean Howard wasn’t what you’d been expecting. She was middle-aged with honey blonde hair that fell in neat curls. She was wearing a silk blouse and a skirt with heels. She was definitely the most dressed up of all of your clients today. God, she was beautiful and you had to remind yourself to not stare at her legs as you held out your hand.

The medium smiled as she reached out her own hand and shook yours. Her hand was so soft, but you counted to two before releasing it with a shake of your head.

“Nice to meet you Dr. Y/L/N. I apologize for being so late.” You smiled at the thought of what Erin had told you. It sounded like she had a hell of a time getting here. You couldn’t blame her after what she’d gone through to simply get these cats looked at.

“No need. It sounds like this one was quite the troublemaker.” You pet Bit as she wandered over to you to check you out, and you smiled as she rubbed her face on your hand.

You noticed Billie roll her eyes with a sigh and you couldn’t help but smile at what she said.

“She definitely was. That’s where her name came from after all.”

You frowned in confusion but didn’t get a chance to ask before Billie was explaining herself. She eyed you curiously as she shrugged indifferently.

“I may have called her, her name with an added ‘ch’ a couple times on the way here. Specifically, while I was chasing her around a Denny’s parking lot.”

You tried not to laugh at the ridiculous image that conjured in your brain, but it was useless. You were laughing before you could help it because honestly who wouldn’t find this elegant woman running after a cat in a parking lot hilarious.

You stifled your laughter before you cleared your throat and shot Billie a smile. “Well, it sounds like the name suits her.”

You examine each of the kittens carefully, and confirm that they are less than a week old since their eyes are still closed. They are all a little buggy from living under the deck so you deworm them and Bit so she won’t spread any parasites to them. As you explain this to Billie while applying the medication, you notice that she is shooting you an odd look. You don’t really worry too much about it because it’s probably just confusion from a too-sciency word you used.

When the kittens are all checked out and the mom is back in the box resting with them, you decide that you should figure out what happens next.

“They’ll need their mom for milk for the next month, but have you decided if you want to keep them?”

Erin leaves at this point because now that the exams are done, you’re mostly just talking. You pretend not to notice how she is reluctant to leave, and instead focus on Billie’s wide eyes as she shakes her head with a laugh.

“No, I don’t think I can keep them all. Maybe one or two. I don’t want to be known as the crazy old cat lady.”

You laugh again before moving your stethoscope off the exam table so it’s not sitting in all of the baby food you fed to Bit. “You’re definitely not old, Ms. Howard.”

You nearly slap your hand to your mouth as your eyes widen in mortification. God you did not just say that did you? You look to the blonde about to apologize, but you see her smiling at you instead. You hear her teasing tone and blush despite your best efforts at what she says in response.

“Thank you dear, but please. Call me Billie.”

You nod dumbly before you start picking off some of the black hair on your coat, only to give up after a few seconds. You’re covered and you miss the amused look Billie shoots you as you try to get back on track.

“Okay, Billie. Well once they’re old enough, you can take them to a shelter, or you can bring them here. We adopt out kittens. Our last ones actually just went home with some clients.”

It’s nearly 12:30 when you’re finished answering some of Billie’s general questions. You had an assistant find a carrier for Billie to take so she wouldn’t have to worry about Bit escaping again. You load the cats into it while Billie gets checked out at the front desk. By the time she gets back, you have only Bit left to put in.

Of course she decides she’d rather run around the room though. You ignore your growling stomach which conveniently covers up the sound of the door opening behind you as you hurry to catch the cat.

“Come here you little, Bit. You need to get in here so your mom doesn’t lose you at Denny’s again.”

Once you finally get her inside the carrier and close it with a sigh, you realize that you are being watched. You look up from where you’re kneeling on the ground to see Billie watching you from the doorway with a smile. You fight a blush as you pick up the carrier carefully before taking a step toward the door.

“Here, let me help you to your car.”

Billie shook her head. She’d already taken up a lot of your time. It was nearly 1 and most everyone else was on lunch.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sweetheart. I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

Billie looked like she was going to argue, but you just stood with the carrier held in your hand with a smile. Ready to go. She sighed and your smile widened as you followed the blonde out of the building.

You nearly stop short at the pet name, the second pet name she’s used, but you recover just in time to shake your head with a smile.

“Don’t be silly. It’s not a problem.”

You arrive to her car without incident and she opens the backdoor for you. You smile before placing them in the back seat, trying not to be too nosy as you duck into her car before standing up straight again.

“You’re all set, Ms—Billie.”

Billie smiles at your save as she shuts the door behind you. You stand by awkwardly as she takes a moment to study you. She opens her mouth to say something but stops short before simply nodding.

“Thank you again. It was nice to meet you, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You blush before waving her off as you look away to hopefully save face before responding. “Y/F/N, please and you too.”

As you’re about to turn away and head back inside for some much-needed lunch when something occurs to you. You smile slightly as you dig into your pocket and grab a card to hand to her. The medium takes your business card with a smile, and her fingers brush against yours briefly. Your cheeks redden and you curse yourself when you see Billie’s smile turn into a smirk. You manage to speak up before she can and drop your hand away and into your pocket.

“My card. In case you have any questions. You can call us or email anytime.”

Billie looked over the card, realizing that it had the clinic’s number and a shared email address on it. She decided not to be deterred and shot the blushing doctor a curious look.

“So in the event of an emergency, and the clinic’s closed…what number would I call?”

You laughed nervously as you thought about your options. You could tell that Billie was flirting. You were dense, but not that dense, and you decided to take a risk. You shrugged before you dug around in your pocket once again for a pen before reaching out for the card you’d just given away.

“Well you could call the emergency clinic up the road, or you can call me. Whichever.”

Billie looks at the number that you scrawled down with a grin. “This is your personal number?”

You smirked before taking a step back toward the building hoping to retreat before you say something too dumb. “It is. To use for emergencies or whatever else.”

You smile a little wider as Billie’s face lights up and she shoots you a suggestive look. You merely laugh before turning around and heading back inside. You know she’s watching you, but you don’t turn around until you reach the door. You’re not surprised to see her still standing there watching, and you shoot her one last smile and wave before ducking back inside.

Part 2

#billie dean howard #murder house #fic request #billie dean howard x reader #ahs #eeek #american horror story #ahs fanfic #hope you like it anon #:)#a little bit #my fic #ahs imagine

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amimons · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Sweet-ember (Sept. 13th)

September 13th: Origins (Ladybug & Chat Noir Stoneheart)

Ladybug & Chat Noir is part one of the origin episode of how Paris’ superheroes came to be. And as far as origin episodes go, this is a pretty solid. We all know how Ladybug and Chat Noir came to be, they were chosen by Master Fu the guardian of the miraculous box creating a super duo with the power of creativity and destruction. It all started at the first day back to school and get some insight of how different things were in a time before the miraculous.

Marinette was more reserved and insecure girl who was feeling reluctant to go back to school because of the whole Chloe situation. Luckily she instantly meets and befriends the new girl Alya. But Alya isn’t the only new student to Collège Françoise Dupont. Adrien a famous model of the prodigious Paris fashion designer Gabriel Agreste was on a mission to attend public school after being homeschool his whole life. His only friend growing up was Chloe until Nino offered his friendship. Too bad for Adrien his first attempt of going to school was unsuccessful after he got caught by Nathalie and the Gorilla after he decided to help and old man (aka Master Fu) who appeared to have fallen on the ground.

Something else was new to the city of Paris which was the threat of akumas created by Hawkmoth. With the very first Akuma was Stoneheart (caused by Chloe of course). After Fu successfully planted the miraculous and Paris started getting terrorized by a new stone beast our two heroes meet their Kwamis, both reacting differently to that introduction (they are opposites after all.) Adrien was excited and eager, willing to leap right into this new role. So eager in fact that he didn’t let Plagg finish explaining what exactly this all meant. Marinette on the other hand was frighten and doubtful that she could fulfill such a role.

Although hesitant, she was able to observe the situation more and form a plan rather than fighting blindly. It’s a perfect introduction to our two main heroes fighting styles and demonstrating what their strengths and weaknesses would be and how their partnership would help balance that out. I’m so happy we got to see Ladynoir meeting each other and how they adjusted to their partnership (which wasn’t hard they naturally got along it was just figuring out the ropes that was the tougher part.) But although they worked together perfectly, they were still new to the role and Ladybug forgot a crucial step in akuma battles; purifying the akuma.

Stoneheart returns in part two...actually many stonehearts make an apperance due to the result of releasing an unpurified akuka back in Paris. After making the mistake Marinette questions if she really has what it takes to be Ladybug and believes her new friend Alya would suit the role better. Even though she renounces her new role, this doesn’t stop Marinette from trying to fix the situation as civilian self by trying to talk to Ivan and console him by giving him advice. After talking to Ivan and slipping the earrings into Alya’s bag Marinette enters the classroom only to see none other than Adrien Agreste bending over poking at some gum at her seat.

I gotta say our Adrienette introduction was a big surprise to me, I wasn’t expecting Marinette to actually dislike Adrien at first. This was all due to a misunderstanding of the gum on her chair. And I love this. Because of this we get to see Marinette as the type of person she is, someone who stands up for herself and others. And poor Adrien desperate to make a good impression he wants to stay on good terms with Chloe, so he doesn’t stand up for himself. Adrien’s upbringing makes him someone who needs to stay in line not someone who rocks the boat. This makes Adrien a very unconfrontational guy. Something that Marinette can help Adrien approve upon in the future.

In the meanwhile Ivan tried Marinette’s advice and even though it had the best intentions, it ended up failing creating Stoneheart once again and awakening the other Stonehearts. Alya, excited to capture footage of the situation rushes out without her bag leaving the Miraculous with Marinette once again. Determine to give the her friend the earrings, Marinette rushes after her only to find Alya in serious trouble. In a moment of concern for her friend and the determination to save her, Marinette comes back around and using the earrings to transform back into Ladybug. This is one of the most important and defining moments for Marinette in the whole series. Although she sometimes has her doubts her willingest to help others and fix problems is what makes Marinette a true hero.

She joins up with Chat Noir once again saving him from a group of Stonehearts. They immediately go attack the heart of the problem, Ivan. After feeling discourage when the police officers call her a failure, Chat Noir informs Ladybug that that is untrue. This a is pinnacle role that Chat Noir plays into in his partnership Ladybug. Whenever Ladybug gets too overwhelmed with doubt, Chat Noir is always here to ground her and help her focus. This needed encouragement gave Ladybug the boast she needed to take on Stoneheart and to tell Hawkmoth off.

Which leads us into how our heroes fell in love with each other. It was in this moment of Chat seeing Ladybug as her authentic self; someone full of strength, determination, and bravery. She is an amazing person that vows to protects others who is always willing to help those who needs it. Both in and out of costume, Marinette has the making of a true hero. As for Adrien, he has a situation of his own that he needs to fix. After the school day ends, Marinette stops at the top of the stairs to stay dry from the rain. Adrien greets her and although Marinette is standoffish with him, he tells her that he is sorry for the misunderstandings. He opens up about being new to school and new to making friends. He extends his umbrella out to her as a symbol of friendship and understanding. It is when Marinette sees as Adrien for his authentic self when she develops (deep) feelings for him. Someone who kind hearted and full of good intentions. Adrien wants the best for those in his life and he wants to protect those he cares by being there for them. Seeing why our heroes fell in love with one another showed us that their love isn’t swallow. Although their secret identities get in the way of knowing more about each other, they earnestly revealed to one another who they are deep inside.

About Sweet-ember:

For the month of September I wanted to spread some positivity and praise Miraculous Ladybug on the things I’ve appreciated/enjoyed from the show.

Everyday I’m going to select one particular moment, event, theme, etc. from an episode of Miraculous and shared what I liked from that episode. Each post will discuss 2-3 episodes (from season 1-3; 78 episodes in total).

Whether its something big or small there is something positive that I can take away from every single episode of Miraculous.

Please feel free to add a moment from these particular episodes that you loved to this post as well!

Salt towards the show, characters, ships will not be tolerated!

Sweet-ember posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

#ya its a long one but its origins sooo #miraculous ladybug #ml sugar #ml sweet-ember #ladybug & chat noir #origins #stoneheart #ladynoir #adrienette #mine

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taliaquinn · 4 years ago

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Why Me!? Chapter 16

A/N: Hey peeps, I hope you guys enjoy today's update. I hope you guys like the fact that I uploaded so soon. Also I have a lot of oneshot ideas however the tricky part is actually WRITING. Who knew am I right?

“Kaalki quick open a portal to that old alley, It’s better to transform there, Tikki you can finish Game of Thrones later” Marinette ordered a previously napping Kaalki, while pulling out a miffed Tikki from her mini-room in the closet. Tikki was almost done with the first season of Game Of Throne. The only reason it was taking so long was mostly that she had to watch it whenever Marinette wasn’t around due to uh reasons.

“Priorities much?” Marinette teased, quickly making a fake sleeping Marinette on her bed in case someone checked on her.

She quickly leaped through the portal, after appearing in some Paris alley she quickly ducked behind the dumpster and transformed into Ladybug, and made her way to the Attack.

To no one's surprise she was facing off with Lady Wifi again. Except for this time she was busy tracking down her ex-boyfriend Nino who had broken up with her over text. Ouch. Good for him regardless. The darker part of Marinette was pleased. He came to his senses. Finally.

Unfortunately for her Lady Wifi was pissed, which made taking her down harder. She had to leave to recharge, Chat showed up during the last few moments but still proved himself useless by getting frozen by Lady-wifi somehow. Luckily Ladybug was sadly used to this and left him frozen.

Quickly ducking to the side she delivered a blow to Alyas' side. Throwing her yo-yo she managed to tangle Lady Wifis legs, causing her to drop her phone. Ladybug quickly scooped it up to destroy. Seriously, what was it with this girl and her obsession with phones?

Purifying the Akuma, she used the Miraculous Ladybug to instantly repair all the damage. Releasing a heavy sigh she turned to face her ex-best friend. To her disgust she was facing a pouting Alya and a smiling Chat.

The instant that Alya saw Ladybug she immediately stood up and ran towards her,

“Oh my gosh Ladybug thank you for saving me, I don't know what Nino was thinking breaking up with me like that, he KNOWS how mad I get” she said huffing out a laugh.

Oh. my. god. She was trying to make it seem like Nino was at fault! Marinette was furious. She was acting just like Chat!!! Marinette is going to need so much therapy after all of this is done.

“Alya, you need to apologize to Nino,” she finally told her. “and afterward leave him alone, you have to respect his decision and space.” She added. They might not be friends anymore but that didn’t mean that Marinette didn't care about Nino.

“L-L-Ladybug, you don’t get it, he broke up with me for no good reas-”

“It was a good enough reason that he felt the need to do it through a text” gesturing towards Nino's home she added “and as it turns out he was right to do so”

Alya huffed, “You just don't understand Ladybug”. She moved away from her and took out her phone to begin live streaming.

She made her way towards Chat noir who was standing on the side watching the whole exchange a bit nervous. “Chat Noir, Are you aware of a certain girl named Marinette who got caught on camera criticizing you, when she had no right to mind you, about your most recent actions?. Do you have anything to say in response to it?” She asked pointing her phone camera in his direction.

Chat Noir immediately leaped at the chance to defend himself.

“W-well like you said she had no right, what could she know about the struggles of being a superhero, heck I even had to save her a couple of times and that’s how she thanks me?’ He mentioned facing Alyas' camera. “Honestly I think she’s just jealous and mine and m’lady's partnership, but what can you do am I right?” he teased.

“What partnership chat?” Ladybug cut in. No way was she letting rumors spread when she was standing right there.

“M'lady's just jealous as well,” Chat said with a wink

“Oh for Pete's sake” Ladybug pulled Chat away from Alyas prying eyes (and cellphone) and yo-yo away without a goodbye to the blogger.

A few rooftops away she finally plopped down and released Chat none too gracefully. The look on Chat noirs face wasn’t the charming one he was displaying for Alya and her Camera, he had the nerve to look annoyed.

“What was that?” He spit out

“What was what hmmm?” Oh she was annoyed now too.

“Al-that Cesaire girl has been your biggest supporter since Day One. You just don’t know what's going on with that Cesaire girl”

“I do, her boyfriend broke up with her because he was involved in an extremely toxic relationship” She stated, “I have to make sure she understands that, she’s trying to shift the blame!!!”

“And what was that about our partnership, you sounded like you agreed with that Dupain-Cheng girl” He complained annoyed “That's cause I do”

“WHAT!?”

“You said it yourself Marinette could never understand the pressure cause she’s not a superhero, I on the other hand AM,” Not to mention they were one and the same but he didn't have to know that, “frankly you’ve been lacking in the superhero department if I can show up for every Akuma battle why can't you?”

“Because I have a life unlike you”

“Pfftt I am an independent business owner who still manages to be a stellar student AND I manage to handle Akuma attacks alone more often than not, what about you?”

“What does that matter? Marinette's gotten to you hasn’t she? You know she's been sent away for assaulting a classmate?”

“That's weird from what she told me she quit” she shouted “really chat you should leave the manipulating to Rossi and Cesaire”

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK, I DONT MANIPULATE” He screamed at her. Why was it that everyone was turning against him lately?

“You’re right, you only do that after you try everything else to make yourself seem good” Ladybug finished staring back at Chat noirs infuriated green eyes, His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked the angriest he ever had.

Staring at him Marinette came to a realization, she took a few step backs “We’ll talk later” She jumped off the roof and started making her way to a specific location.

Batcave Wayne Manor, USA 12:30 pm

“Master Dick I must ask you to please refrain from breaking your ribs in the future” Alfred sighed, Luckily Batman was able to arrive in time to stop Nightwing from getting kidnapped or worse. Red Hood quickly arrived and hauled an unconscious Nightwing to the Cave.

Batman, Red Robin, and Robin were currently spread around Gotham and Bludhaven trying to track down any stragglers.

“Sorry Alfie, I’m way too cute for the criminals to stay away” Dick mumbled sleepily

“-humph- Regardless No patrolling for 6 weeks,”

“You hurt me, I hope you know that Alf” He joked. Eh, they were all fast healers, he’ll probably be back on patrol in 4 weeks.

“Heya Alfred, Now that Dick is alright I am going to head back out” Jason said adjusting his gloves and strapping his knives in place.

“Before you leave Master Jason please pickup the Tupperware filled with food I have left for you in the kitchen, And please escort Master Dick to his room for rest” Alfred knew good and well that his charges love not listening to doctors, er butlers, orders.

“Thanks, Alf, Comere Dickwad” Helping Dick up from the cot “but I don’t want to,” Dick whined. “Tough luck”

Making there way throughout the manor, Dick suddenly stopped “Marinette's room is right there, lemme check on her”

Jesus sometimes Dick can be more of a mother hen than Bruce “Come on Dickface, It's almost 1 am any sane person will be asleep by now” he said tiredly but a part of him wanted to check up on her too. Curse these big brother instincts. “Fine only a peek”

Once they stumbled to the front of Marinette's room, Jason gently cracked open the door seeing Marinette sleeping he moved aside to allow Dick to take a peak. To Jason's shock Dick unwrapped his arm from His shoulder and pushed open the door, stumbling to Marinette's Bed. Quickly pulling off the sheets he revealed a bundle of pillows under the blanket.

Marinette wasn’t in her bed.

“Crap”

I just Love cliffhangers, don’t you guys love them as well? I am asking that you guys please message me any prompts you would like for me to write for my one-shot series. Else I’m just going to keep making sad angsty one-shots. Stay Safe and Healthy guys <3.

Feel free to reblog,like and comment :)

Taglist:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @kass-is-weird @another-fan-of-anotherplan @damianette-is-life @amayakans @parallelparabox @miukiiu @valeks-princess @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @thezestywalru @dreamykitty25 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochinek0 @shamefullove @mochegato @souleateralicestein @thestressmademedoit @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @aestheticnpoetic @mysupporthyperfixations @itsmeevie01

#miraculous ladybug #mlb au #maribat #batfam #marinette deserves better #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #class salt

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jordm · 4 years ago

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Heartland 14x06 - The New Normal recap

Hello hello! Last week I didn’t end up writing a recap because I didn’t end up watching the episode until around Friday... and uhhh this is the same but this week i’m a little less busy so I have some free time to actually write something up.

So anyways, episode 6!

Horses are being pushed out of the herd and the new leader, Kaz is apparently ruthless. Okay, maybe not ruthless but so far 3-4 horses have been pushed out and they need to re-home asap. Amy agrees to put on a clinic to help re-home them and apparently people are interested because its Amy. No pressure. Nope, none at all.

Amy isn’t sure that she wants to lead the clinic - not because of the horses or her abilities about, but because of the people. She’s afraid it could lead to new clients, who know nothing about her except that she’s a horse whisperer and all that surface level stuff. She’s also afraid that people will just feel sorry for her - which is also valid but you have to start putting yourself out there.

And then CLINT shows up! Clint - and he didn’t bring a child for Amy to take in temporarily like Luke, so that’s an improvement right? It’s great to see Clint. I’m reminded that Clint had his own special bond with Ty and he is essentially the reason Amy and Ty even met, so it’s great to see him again.

I can tell that Amy is getting used to running clinics again but i love to see her do her thing. When Amy can’t get Shadow to jump - and in her first clinic back she feels like she failed. I don’t think other people are thinking that but we always tend to think the worst of themselves.

Amy wants things to be the way it is. She wants people to stop feeling sorry for her and being sensitive to her feelings. Here’s the problem, the people who love you often want to not see you upset and thus seek to protect your feelings, even if its not for the best because you want to be treated normally. Secondly, things will never be the same - they will never be the same as they were before Ty’s death and often you just need to get used to the “new normal.” Once she comes to terms with the new normal, hopefully with time, Amy will come to look back at the past fondly without falling apart every time. And then maybe she can continue to make future plans for her and her daughters future.

Lou (possibly to the detriment of poor Peter’s sanity) turns the visit into a sleepover in order to support her sister and be there for her. It was nice to see Lou supporting Amy and being the best sister she can be. They even bonded over seeing her father and her ex boss kiss, which was a nice moment. I’d like to think that Lou’s encouragement helped Amy open up and be brave enough to get back into the ring - literally. Seeing Spartan and Shadow be bffs was just the cutest.

The guy who Clint brought, I also forgot his name, came looking for some horses for his clinic thing and after the show Amy put on, he offers to buy all 5 horses! Amy graciously says no to helping to train them but offers to put him in touch with some other trainers, but something tells me that Amy and this guy will cross paths again.

Katie doesn’t seem to be taking Mitch & Lou’s relationship well (I feel like Katie thinks that she’s getting a new dad and she doesn’t want that) but I think she’ll come through. Maybe Peter will be the one to convince her Mitch is not trying to be her new dad? Mitch loves Lou and is not trying to replace Peter - and sometimes this takes kids longer to get (or even adults!).

In the end, all Katie wanted was to not to lose her dad. Katie saw Lyndy lose her dad and she didn’t want the same to happen to her, even though both situations were arguably very different. I love seeing the relationship between Peter and Katie grow, its a very special bond and I’m glad Peter assured her that he wasn’t going anywhere. This conversation also convinced me that Peter won’t get in the way of Mitch and Lou seeing how he supported their relationship.

We also get a Carson and Caleb appearance! (okay, i thought i heard Carson this could be wrong). We also get a glimpse of Caleb as a father and its just the cutest thing. Look at how Carson grabs Caleb’s finger and how well Caleb entertains Lyndy and Katie. Just the cutest. I’m hoping for Cassandra and Amy scene like that next season.

Speaking of which, we also get a Cass update! Good news, they’re still together. Bad news - or good? She had a chance to step up at the clinic with Ty’s death and she took it and while Caleb is happy for her, he misses her and is struggling to parent (mostly) alone.

Fred wants Jack to be the spokesman for Heartland beef. But just Jack. JUST JACK. Jisa arrives at the conference and in a suit! He has a meet and greet, itinerary and everything and goddamn, that hotel is beautiful. Except Jack is suffering - everything is just too nice! Lisa, however, is enjoying every minute.

Luckily, Jack is a star. The star of the conference. I love seeing Jack and Lisa thrive, get away from the ranch and have some much belated alone time. Even a broken wrist cannot stop them from having some quality time and having a romantic evening in. I LOVED Lisa telling her husband he does not always have to be the rock, he can feel things and be emotional. He does not always have to put his feelings aside to help Amy, nor does he have to feel guilty to he happy. Ty would want his family to be happy.

The last convo between Jack and Tim, where they both agree to “live and learn” is ironically very funny. Jack had a “horrible time” and “nothing” happened between Tim and Jessica. Yep, totally.

Lastly, do I smell a romance between Tim and Jessica?? I’m here for it. But let’s hope this ends better than his romance with Jen. Jessica even kind of looks like Jen... from afar. I love them bonding over both having cancer/having a cancer scare and I think they fit well together.

On a side note, I cannot wait until Georgie is back. I can’t wait to see and explore how she feels and dealt with Ty’s death - something we’ve been doing with other characters in the last few episodes. I presume she’s also changed a lot from her time in Florida as well.

Oh- and Mitch is back on our screens! Like, literally. And not through a phone.

#heartland #recap #season14 #14x06

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raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal · 4 years ago

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Rascals

A/N: So this is more or less based on real events. I swear I don’t get angry a lot, but sometimes those little rascals that are my siblings just get on my bloody nerves and then there is really nothing I can do

words: 1278

Summary: All Ada wants is just some peace and quiet but with three brothers home there is no snowballs chance in hell of that happening

----

Ada sighed deeply as she turned the corner to Watery Lane. It had been an awful, no-good, tiring day and all she wanted was to come home, lie down on the couch and sleep. She hoped Finn, John and Arthur had done as she asked and had cleaned their house up a bit. Polly was out of town for the week and so the burden of caring for the Shelby household had fallen on the most responsible one. Ada herself. When she had come downstairs that morning the house was an absolute mess so all she had asked was for the boys to clean up a little. That shouldn’t have been too much of a challenge. Ada’s tired feet finally reached the doorstep of number 6 and she tried to stay as optimistic as possible as she turned the doorknob. But, as always, she was disappointed. “Finn! Leave my book alone for one goddamn minute!” “But I want to read it too!” “Well, buy your own then, dipshit!” Ada came into the living room and saw John holding a book above his head. Finn was on the couch and was jumping up and down, desperate to grab it. “Oh, hello Ada,” John said when he saw his sister standing in the doorway. Ada said nothing, she was busy supressing the rising anger. The house was in the exact messy state as it had been this morning, if not worse. Plates and glasses lay haphazardly on the coffee table, floor and even on the windowsills. Abandoned shoes, socks and caps decorated the floor and all kinds of mail was scattered over the table. Ada took a deep breath, don’t get angry, she thought to herself. “Hello John, Finn,” she greeted. “Why haven’t you cleaned the house up a bit?” “We were busy, Ada,” John said as if that explained everything. Ada took another breath. “With what?” “Jesus, does it matter? Look, I am sorry we haven’t cleaned up, but we’ll do it later.” Ada balled her fists. Later, she had heard that one before. Suddenly, the backdoor opened with a bang and Arthur appeared. “Christ, what a bloody fucking mess,” he said as he came in. That was the last straw. “Yes! It is a fucking mess, Arthur!” Ada yelled. “So, why haven’t you picked it up when I asked you to?” “Bloody hell, I was going to do it late--” “Later?” Ada shrieked. “Later? You have been saying that for two days. Jesus, all I wanted was to get some rest today. I have been working my ass of for you all week and I ask one thing. One thing! And you lot can’t even do that.” Furiously, she looked around the room. None of the brothers dared to look her in the eye. And that angered Ada even more. “I am going upstairs now,” she said, “and when I come back down, this place will be spotless.” She stomped off the stairwell but turned around one last time. “Fucking spotless!” she yelled and climbed the stairs without turning back. And as a result, she didn’t see how John, Arthur and Finn exchanged frightened glances and began to bend to down to pick up their mess.

Upstairs, Ada slammed the door to her room shut. The door closed with a satisfying crash and she felt like slamming the door again. But she didn’t. Instead, she threw her bag on her bed and sat down next to it with her head in her hands. I am not going to cry, she thought, but nonetheless she felt the tears sting in her eyes. Tears of anger, tiredness and hurt. She hated to get angry like that. Ada sighed and fell back on her bed. “Fuck,” she whispered, but there was no one there to hear it.

Hours went past and the sun that shone through her window slowly disappeared behind the terraced houses of Watery Lane. All that time, Ada stayed in her room. It was close to seven in the evening, she guessed, and she began to feel hungry, but her pride stopped her from going downstairs. Suddenly, she heard voices in little hallway. “Why do I have to do it?” That was Finn, and John answered. “Because she won’t get mad at you. Just tell her quickly and she’ll come down.” Arthur added his voice to the hushed conversation. “Yeah, she’ll only start throwing shoes if she sees John’s ugly face.” Despite herself, Ada had to smile. She heard a smacking sound and Arthurs soft “ow”. Then Finn knocked on her door. Ada wasn’t angry anymore, but she waited with opening the door anyway. “Ada?” Finn’s voice sounded a little unsure. “Dinner is ready. And—and we cleaned up a bit. Will you come and see it downstairs?” Ada smiled as she pictured Finn outside her door, eyes cast down and softly tapping his foot as he did when he was nervous. No need to make him suffer any longer, it shot through Ada’s head and she opened the door. “Well then,” she said, “show me.”

The three brothers beamed at her when she entered the living room. It was spotless indeed. Every shoe, sock and paper was neatly stacked away. “Did you—did you clean the windows?” Ada asked incredulously as she saw that the windows were lacking their usual stains. John proudly puffed up his chest. “I did,” he said, and Ada nodded in approval. Then the brothers led her to the table, which was set and had a pan with steaming vegetables and meats on it. After Finn had filled a plate up for her, Ada carefully took a bite of a potato. It was disgusting. “Wow, this is really good,” she said, “who cooked?” “Me, I did the cooking,” Arthur said as he served himself a fair share of potatoes. Ada politely took another bite. This food isn’t even fit for bloody dogs, she thought but bravely chewed on. “I just couldn’t find the seasoning Poll always uses,” Arthur went on, “so I used this brown powder that smelled really good. You know, in the yellow container?” Ada’s eyes widened slightly. Cinnamon. On potatoes. Raising her head, Ada saw that Arthur was looking at her expectantly. She couldn’t possibly tell him that his potatoes were a human disaster. “It is really nice, Artie, I am surprised,” she said eventually. And surprised, she was. Not at the potatoes of course, but at the fact that John, Finn and Arthur had done all this for her. They had cleaned, cooked and set the table. All it took was an outburst on her side, Ada thought bitterly. After dinner Ada insisted on clearing the table. She had managed to eat a few more bites of the potatoes before she switched to the chicken which, luckily, was prepared by Finn. And Finn could actually cook even though he was only eleven. He always paid attention during Polly’s lessons, unlike Arthur. Expertly, Ada cleared the table and smiled at the jokes of John and at the giggles of her youngest brother. With plates and cutlery in her hands she entered the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. It was an absolute chaos. Pans, knifes and forks were littered on the ground, the yellow container with the cinnamon had fallen over and the peels of potatoes, tomatoes and other vegetables lay all across the counter. Ada closed her eyes. She should have known better. But she still heard the boys laughing and playing in the other room and her face softened a little. Fucking Shelbys, she thought. Screw it. I’ll make Tommy do it when he gets home.

Permanent taglist: @caelys

If you want to be added, shoot me a message :D

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders #ada shelby #tommy shelby #ada shelby fluff #john shelby #arthur shelby

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ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife · 4 years ago

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MAG 022 - Colony

Summary: Martin Blackwood dictates his statement regarding “a close encounter with something I believe to have once been Jane Prentiss.”

So can we all agree that Martin is the most adorable person ever and needs to be protected at all costs? Because within the first minute of this episode he was firmly placed in the Smol Bean category of my brain, and there he shall forever be. I am quite certain I will end up crying about this man at some point.

I’m really glad I listened to this episode again after finishing the season, because even in the short time between this episode and the season finale, so much of my opinions on Jonathan himself and on the relationship between Jonathan and Martin have changed. I know, this episode was about Martin - but it was also the first time we actually got to see these two characters interact, as opposed to Jonathan just making offhand comments about Martin’s supposedly subpar work. (Poor Martin. Mean Jonathan.)

I love how Martin says, “I just want to make a statement about what happened to me. I mean...it’s what we do!” and Jonathan’s immediate reply is, “No, what we do is research statements - usually those made by liars and the mentally unwell.” His tone holds its usual amount of derision, but after listening to the last few episodes of S1, I can’t find it in myself to hold it against him anymore. (I never claimed to be good at reading people.) Towards the end of the episode, Jonathan tells Martin he can sleep in the Archive, basically doing what I think was the Jonathan version of reassuring him, by telling him how safe it is. His tone isn’t reassuring - it’s very factual, as he lists off all the different ways the Institute is a safe place and by telling Martin he’ll ask Elias about adding some extra security. But if Jonathan were just trying to get Martin to sleep there so he wouldn’t lose a research assistant, he probably could’ve just told Martin to stay there and Martin would’ve listened. He seems to care about Martin in a way that isn’t shown in his offhand remarks in previous episodes. And while there’s a slight admonishment when he says, “No, what we do is research statements”, it smacks more of a concerned admonishment than an angry one to me. Conclusion: Jonathan is, as always, terrible with people, but not because he doesn’t care.

I’m also wondering how much of the “No, what we do is research statements” line was Jonathan and how much was Elias. It reminded me of what Jonathan said when he was contemplating bringing up the Leitner situation to Elias in episode 17: “I know he’ll just give me the old “record and study, not interfere or contain” speech again”. In particular, the word “again” indicates it’s something they’ve butted heads on before. It’s interesting that in this episode Jonathan seems to take Elias’ position on the issue. It could be that he’s just trying to be responsible in a general sense and that he doesn’t want to be liable if anything happens to Martin. But, taken with what I said in the previous paragraph, it could also be read as “I’d like to discourage this man from further endangering himself in the future because I care about him and I cannot/do not know how to express this directly, so I will hide behind what my own boss has told me many times.”

On the subject of Martin himself - I don’t think I can properly express how much I already love this adorable, nervous man. There were just so many great lines from him in this episode, whether for characterization or for humor - and often it was both. The long beat of silence after “Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?” Also: “Look, I know you hate the word, but it was really…spooky.” And “I was heading home when I got to thinking, and…I was worried I hadn’t really done enough investigation for you”. And “I’ve catalogued and looked into enough of these cases to know that following the noise is always a really, really bad idea, but…I mean…it’s my job, isn’t it?” And finally, at the very end when Jonathan offers him a place to stay at the Archive, he’s so flustered, both at the offer and at the very idea that Jonathan believes him. He’s basically tripping over himself and cringing as he gives his own statement, so hung up on the idea that he won’t be believed or that this isn’t enough.

And who can blame him? If you really think about what happened to him...I can’t blame him for thinking he wouldn’t be believed or that no one would be concerned for his safety. From his perspective, he just spent thirteen days alone in his apartment with no electricity, no company, no way to communicate with the outside world - and, to his knowledge, not a single person checked up on him! Obviously that was a good thing, because if someone had come to his door, they would have been met with Jane Prentiss - but Martin went for almost two weeks without a single good night’s sleep, eating ready meals and canned food, being constantly startled by her knocking, and he had to have wondered, at least once, why no one even wondered where he was.

One key to Martin’s survival was that he had plenty of water: “Luckily there was no problem with my water supply, so I had plenty to drink. I’m just glad none of them thought to come up through the pipes.” I genuinely can’t tell if Jonny’s hanging a lampshade on the issue or if we’re supposed to wonder why the worms never came up through the pipes, but in any case I am wondering it. Another key to his survival is that, despite not having a peephole, Martin somehow knew when she’d gone - and he wasn’t entirely sure how he knew. He surmises that the musty smell surrounding her must have been gone, and he didn’t hear any knocking for a little while, but in the end he has to confirm her absence by simply opening his door - which, if he were wrong, would have led to certain death - or, as he says at one point, “worse”.

Another mystery to me is when Martin goes into the basement of the building on Boothby Rd the first time and this happens: “I didn’t like the way my shadow moved. The light from the window behind me cast it pretty clearly on the floor, and looking at it I swear the edges seemed to move…it’s was like a, like an undulation…like, like they were being shifted by something.” He doesn’t follow this up with “and then I noticed my ‘shadow’ was actually worms on the floor”, so this doesn’t seem like a Jane Prentiss thing to me, or a Carlos Vittery’s spider thing either. And if it isn’t associated with either of the two known Boothby Rd-related entities, then it was something else entirely, which has me worried. But that’s the only mention of anything like a shadow being “shifted” in this episode, so for now I’m hoping I’m just reading too much into things.

There were so many excellent visual descriptions in this episode, so kudos to Jonny as always, and in this case kudos also to Alex for the performance. Martin describes the Jane Prentiss worms as “maybe an inch long, with a silver segmented body that goes black at one end, almost like it’s been burned.” This could just be a general creepy description, but I would be remiss if I didn’t point out the “burning” imagery here, given all the times fire and burning have come up before, even though I’m not sure what specifically it might be connected to from previous episodes. More concrete, though, is the difference between Jane Prentiss’ clothing when Martin encounters her and what she was wearing in her first appearance in episode 6. Harriett Lee, her victim in that episode, told Timothy Hodge, the man who gave the statement, that she found Prentiss wearing a long red dress. By contrast, Martin finds her in the basement wearing “a threadbare grey overcoat, though beneath it her legs were bare” (so, she’s no longer wearing the long red dress) and holding “a stained green handkerchief.” The events of episode 6 occurred in late November 2014 - almost a year and a half before Martin’s encounter with her. So why was she still in that area after all that time? We know she isn’t physically unable to leave - she follows Martin all the way to his home in Stockwell. And where did she get the overcoat and the handkerchief? I’m assuming it came from another victim, though she could have stolen them I guess. As far as we know they never did follow up with Timothy Hodge, despite Jonathan noting in that episode that they probably should. Jonathan also hasn’t mentioned looking into missing persons reports from the area either, even though that seems to me like an obvious thing to investigate.

Speaking of investigating...my ears perked up when the owner of the building told Martin that Carlos’ cat now lives with the Sanderson couple in apartment 2. I immediately flashed back to episode 15 and Laura Popham’s missing (presumably dead) sister, Elena Sanderson. (I remembered the name because of the Sanderson sisters, of course. #90schild) I don’t think it’s an actual connection, though, for two reasons: First, it doesn’t fit the timeline. Elena went missing in June 2014, and this Sanderson couple apparently still lives in this building in early 2016. It could be a relative, or maybe she magically reappeared, but I don’t see any specific reason to think either of those things. Second, there are something like 20,000 people with that surname living in England (yay genealogy websites). If it were a less common name, I’d be more suspicious, but as it stands now I’m keeping it in mind but leaning towards it being a coincidence.

Some final thoughts on Jane Prentiss. She apparently “called herself to be a practicing witch and believed [herself] to be infected by a dangerous, unknown parasite.” This is the first time the word “witch” is mentioned in the show (unless you’re counting Julia Montauk going to see The Witches in episode 9 lol), but not the first time we have seen something, or someone, witch-like. There are almost too many examples of things that could be considered “magic” to list, but the ones that stand out to me the most as potentially witch-like are: Mary Key being alive and the bones falling out of the books in episode 4; Agnes Montague/Fielding/whatever her name is and her apparent agelessness in episode 8; Robert Montauk’s heart ritual in the shed in episode 11; the unnamed man’s chanting in the hospital in episode 12; and Angela in episode 14. I’m not sure how any of these might be connected, but now that the word’s been mentioned I’m considering it a possibility.

And lastly...“Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the archivist’s crimson fate arrives.” Jonathan’s voice when he read that last part, man. Martin asks what it means, and he sounds genuine, but Jonathan...I think Jonathan was thinking the same thing I am: that “the archivist’s crimson fate” sounds an awful lot like the description of Gertrude Robinson’s death as foretold in the dream from episode 11, particularly in the description of the Institute: “It was this building into which all the veins flowed: every door, every window was solid with them. When the bursts of red light passed into it, the whole building glowed crimson.”

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

Minor spoilers for a later episode in S1 after the cut.

Just have to take a moment to freak out about the fact that I completely forgot about Martin’s description of Jane Prentiss’ skin as “full of holes - deep, black holes just honeycombing every bit of flesh like a…wasps’ nest.” HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT HE USED THE EXACT SAME WORDS SHE DID IN HER STATEMENT. Like, I don’t know if it’s significant, or if the description just fit so well that Jonny wanted to reuse it, but...damn.

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging?#The Magnus Archives #how do I always end up writing BOOKS #I thought this one was gonna be shorter too #also I'm officially switching over to Gerard instead of Jared even though I still don't think that's what it sounds like at all #it bugs me

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hvproductions · 4 years ago

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DEVIL WITHIN [THE ORDER]

Belgrave University was supposed to be Rebecca’s fresh start. It was supposed to be her chance to escape her controlling parents, her lying ex-boyfriend, her extremely eventful past. The promised fresh start turned quickly into a nightmare as she learns that not everything is as it seems in Belgrave. the order [season 1 -?] hamish duke x oc

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6: SOMETHING’S COMING

My friends had always told me that I was the best friend they could ask for. I had never believed them, positive they said so just so they wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Now, I was beginning to realize that they were telling the truth - it was because of my loyalty to Jack I found myself in the cellar of three werewolves with the same boy locked inside with me - and without a cellphone to text Cassie to ask for her assistance.

I was really starting to regret coming to this forsaken university.

I had dedicated the last day to studying, not bothering to answer anyone’s calls. Randall was the one mostly bombing me with calls and messages, even though a couple of them arrived from Jack as well. Randall was still going on about Cassie and I being the ‘honorary’ members of the Knights; Jack, however, had remembered my existence and was desperately apologizing for his behavior the last couple of days. I offered him a quick message in return to let him know that everything was already forgotten - from Cassie I learnt that he too had begged for her forgiveness; my roommate was even quicker to forgive him than I was.

I didn’t think much of the message Randall sent me - one that had been the 10th one of the night. I opened it just for the sake of learning what he was saying, sure that this one was another random text message - instead of being so, it was him telling me to come to his place as quickly as possible. Apparently, Jack was certain he had killed our ethics professor, and was now practically held as a prisoner by Hamish and Lilith.

Quickly throwing my books aside I grabbed the first jacket I could find - within seconds I had bolted out of the dorm room. Studying was now the last thing on my mind. Instead, I wondered how Jack could have been so reckless. It was evident that werewolves were not the most cautious creatures on the planet; then again, wasn’t it the Knights job to assure that something like this didn’t happen?

The usual journey there would have taken me about thirty minutes; with twenty bucks - and a couple compliments - my Uber driver got me there with seventeen minutes. He looked hesitant to leave me practically in the middle of the woods, but I quickly reassured him it was alright. With a smile he left, and I stopped behind the door of the house the three werewolves, unsure to knock or to simply let myself in. Luckily for me, Randall opened the door just a second before I was about to knock, ushering me quickly inside without giving me a chance to say anything.

“Okay, what is going on?” I questioned loudly, pulling myself free from Randall’s grip. The boy let out a sigh, glancing to his right and left before leaning closer to me.

“I need you here to make sure Hamish and Lilith doesn’t kill Jack.” He whispered quietly, probably so that no one would hear him.

“What am I supposed to do against two werewolves?” I loudly whispered back; Randall didn’t have time to answer, jumping away from me when Hamish and Lilith appeared into the room. The girl looked at me with an annoyed look, one that turned into a glare that she focused on Randall. Hamish didn’t seem to mind my presence; he even went as far as to offer me an alcoholic beverage that I turned down. Normally, I wasn’t one to decline a drink, yet the angel on my shoulder managed to convince me that the last thing I needed to do right now was to drink with hostile creatures of the night.

And a teacher of the Belgrave University. Who was a werewolf. What are the odds?

“Nice to see you again.” Hamish remarked, sipping on his drink and a smile on his face that didn’t seem genuine in the least.

“Where is Jack?” I demanded, glancing from one person to another. They, however, didn’t care much of my questioning and went to have a quiet conversation near me. I desperately tried to hear what they were saying, yet I couldn’t do so. As I was about to leave and start searching for Jack myself, Hamish walked over to me with a small smile on his face.

“I’ll take you to him.” He announced, walking off and not bothering to check whether I was following him. My eyes glanced at Randall whose expression was as normal as ever. My head was telling me that there was no way they would let me see Jack, especially if they were planning on killing him - and if they were planning on killing him, would they kill me and Cassie alongside him? My heart, however, forced me to follow the leader of the Knights who guided me towards a basement which he then opened.

Jack jumped up from the chair he was sitting on upon seeing me; it was clear that he was surprised to see me there. As I stood on the doorway, Hamish pushed me inside the room, locking the door behind me. At least, once more, I learnt a new lesson - never listen to your heart, and never try to be the hero.

“I’m going to kick your ass myself when I get out of here!” I yelled, pounding on the door. From the other side I could hear a chuckle before footsteps walked away from me and didn’t return, even as I was hitting the door in hopes of breaking it open, although I knew the chance of it happening was slim to none.

“Rebecca? What are you doing here?” Jack questioned, pulling me closer to the center of the room and practically forcing me to take a seat.

“Randall texted me that you were stuck here. Thought I’d be a good friend and try to break you out of here.” I replied, glancing around the room in hopes of finding a way out of there. Besides a couple of very small windows there was no way out of the room; with a sigh my eyes noticed the room where Jack had transformed himself into a werewolf. His eyes followed mine, and from glancing at the look on my face he instantly knew that I wanted to go inside.

“Becca, don’t even think about it.” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before I was already opening the door, cautiously peeking inside although I did not know myself what I was hoping to find. A large trunk caught my attention, mostly due to the fact that a low snarl could be heard from inside of it. A part of me wanted to open it - curious as I always was - yet I remembered clearly what happened when Jack opened one. Becoming a werewolf was not what I wanted, and I was not about to risk it, no matter how fearless I always was.

Jack seemed to agree with my train of thought, pulling me out of the room and closing the door quickly as if he feared I would do the same mistake he did. Suddenly the door of the basement opened, Jack and I moving away from the sacred room and trying to act as normal as we could. Lilith seemed to be suspicious of our actions, Hamish and Randall on the other hand didn't seem to notice anything out of order.

“So what, you going to kill us now? Because if you don’t, I might kill you.” I threatened angrily, walking closer to the trio who started at me in disbelief. My outburst surprised even me, even though the fact that I mostly never thought before speaking was the number one negative trait of mine.

“No one is killing anyone.” Randall was quick to reply, before Lilith added: “We might kill someone.” The girl’s eyes found mine before landing on Jack; it took me everything not to roll my eyes at her threats that were now becoming nothing new.

My eyes landed on a brown journal that I picked up on instinct. Flipping through it, I didn’t pay no attention to what Jack and the Knights were arguing about. The whole diary was filled with information about the werewolves, as if it was a handbook or a guide. When Lilith, yet again, threatened to kill Jack I threw the journal on a nearby table where it was picked up by Hamish like he was afraid that I might steal it away from them.

“Look, how about an alliance?” I asked; the whole room was filled with silence while they waited for me to continue. “Jack is in the Order, so he can sabotage those magicians from the inside. And he can still be a Knight and fight bad magic. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Silently, I added: “Especially for him, because he won’t die.” Lilith seemed to hear me, because a smirk was on her face as she glanced at me for a second. The Knights seemed to be in deep thought, pondering over my proposal. Finally, Hamish nodded, his hand stretched out towards Jack.

“Fine, we’ll try an alliance.” Jack nodded, his hand finding Hamish’s as they shook on it. Letting go, Hamish turned his attention to me, waiting for me to shake his hand like Jack had done seconds ago.

“Rebecca England, honorary member of the Knights of Saint Christopher.”

To say I wasn’t surprised would have been a lie. I certainly didn’t except Hamish to acknowledge the idiotic idea of Randall to make me and Cassie an ‘honorary’ member of their society. While a part of me wanted to stay away from everything supernatural in Belgrave, deep down I was honored and because of that, I silently shook his hand with a small smile on my face. Randall seemed pleased at their leader’s decision, and even Lilith didn’t seem too opposed to it.

Yet doubt lingered in me, even when I walked back into my dorm, exhausted by all the events that had taken place. I had barely managed to open the door when Cassie ran over to me, worry in her face.

“We have a problem.” She simply said, holding up two blue roses and the same amount of envelopes with both her and my name written on it.

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TAGLIST: @elleclairez

#HVProductions #HopeVainProductions #The Order #Hamish Duke #Hamish Duke x OC #Hamish Duke Imagine #Rebecca England #Theorder #The Order Fanfiction #The Order Fanfic #Chapter Update #allaboutocs #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #ocappreciation

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the-silentium · 5 years ago

Text

Let us thank you

Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader, Venom x Reader

Warning: Extreme fluff, smut

Words: 3850 words

A/N: Gif is not mine, credits to the owner. Thank you for the request! This is my very first smut, hope you guys will like it. Please leave comments!

Requested by: @reddeath1888

#11 & #35

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

A pristine white layer of snow had fallen on the city, making you jump in glee at the sight. You were used to white winters, with the cold wind and snowflakes hitting your red cheeks, the dark evenings by the fireplace enjoying a nice mug of your mum's special hot chocolate and the endless days passed outside, playing in the snow with your neighbors. Winter had always been your favorite season because it was a sign that the Holidays were coming soon, but more than anything, you loved playing in the snow.

Sadly, since you moved from your little hometown in Canada to San Francisco for a job opportunity, the winter you knew changed. The winter after your moving you waited very patiently for the white blanket to fall on the city, only to be disappointed on Christmas when it never happened. Never before did you passed the holiday without the oh so loved frozen water. At this moment, you started doubting your life choice. Could you live in a place where snow is as mythical as Santa?

You had seriously thought about your existential problem for a couple of days and concluded that yes, you would have to live in this city, for your pay was very good, your apartment very comfy and the neighbor a sight for sore eyes. If needed, you could give your parents a visit and enjoy the benefits of your country’s weather.

Now, 4 years later, you didn't regret your choice. In January, soon after your decision of staying in the American city, your neighbor showed up at your door, a sheepish smile on his face. Like everyone else in San Francisco, his apartment was plunged into darkness and all his food needed a certain form of cooking. Sure, he could have ordered some food, but his cell phone was dead. Your hospitable personality made you open the door and invite him inside to share your food. Fortunately for you, you finished cooking your meal just before the electricity stopped flowing through the wires and killed your slow cooker. Sharing a hot stew and a nice sugar pie, you learned a lot about your guest. He was a journalist who moved from New York some years ago to be with his ex-fiancé who broke up with him because he used her access to some legal documents to expose a killer. They both lose their jobs but he managed to clean his name after 6 months.

You found yourself intrigued by him. He looked like the king of guy who you would like to hang around. He seemed sweet, funny, smart and you would dare say trustworthy even if he did stole information to his ex-fiancé. You didn't know if you could have held a grudge at him for that. After all, he tried to expose a sociopath who took advantage of innocents who didn't understand what they were signing for.

When a yawn escaped your mouth, Eddie thanked you for the food and the nice chat. He invited you over a week later when his oven would work and he could attempt to cook something edible for you. You laughed and smiled at him, warmth spreading in your body to the possibilities that having dinner to his place could lead to. You couldn't deny that he was handsome and that you had already imagined how exhaustingly pleasurable a night with him would be.

Now that you looked at him, his lower abdomen hidden from your view but his chiseled chest perfectly on display, his hair still messy from the activities of the night prior and his relaxed expression, you are glad that you chose to stay. You have never been happier than with this man at your side, even in the bad days of your relationship. They were often related to their possessiveness over you, because apparently, you are too naive and kind for your own good.

Oh. Yes. You know about the alien renting your boyfriend's body. You met him one night when Eddie took you out on a date. You were both on his bike, getting back home after a romantic dinner at an Italian restaurant when a drunk driver decided that the red light was a new sign for let's roll even faster and hit Eddie's bike at a crazy speed. Every time the brunette took you on a ride, you always enjoyed having your head on his back, your eyes scanning your side environment and not the front. This time was no exception, causing your heart to stop beating for a second when you saw the car coming at full speed in your exact position. Your muscles reacted quickly, your hands tightening on your boyfriend's jacket and eyes closing tightly in anticipation of the impact.

To your surprise, you didn't die. You expected pain, some broken limbs, a lot of blood… and more pain. But none of that happened. You felt an impact, but it was like you were in a pool of jello. The impact was weakened, everything around you seemed to be undulating and every sound was muffled. Maybe it was your adrenaline kicking in, numbing all your senses. After all, you never felt an adrenaline rush before so you couldn't compare. When your eyes finally opened, you realized that your senses weren't muffled by your fight or flight hormone but by an enormous beast with the most frightening rows of fangs you have ever saw.

You remember the panic that consumed your thoughts and paralyzed your body. Tears were staining your cheek while all you could do was stare at the black creature who got you pressed against its chest with its bulky arms. A whimper escaped your mouth, his pristine eyes meeting your frightened gaze. He seemed to open his mouth to talk, but the second his fangs moved, you tried to push yourself away with all your might. Your greatest feat was that you had managed to keep the content of your bladder in your bladder. It passed really close, but the gates remained closed and your ego was still intact. Closing his mouth and hiding his fangs from your view by doing so, the dark creature you would soon know as Venom took you home. You may have been paralyzed in fear back at the crash scene, now that you were in your apartment it was completely different. You hadn't realized it was your apartment. Just that he took you through a window and let you down. It was then that the real adrenaline kicked in. Your heart quickened its already fast pace, your breathing following the lead. A sudden surge of courage made you feel invincible and, without thinking much about your action, you throw your arm back while curling your hand in a tight fist and put all your strength in the punch directed at the middle of its black chest.

You didn't expect the surface to be so hard, nor did you expect the disturbing crunch of your metacarpal bones breaking. This pain, you felt it very clearly and boy did you regret your move. You had a good boyfriend though, he appeared underneath all the black mass and tended to your physical and mental wounds. He answered every question you had about the alien while getting you to the hospital to get your hand checked up.

Back to the matter at hand, the snow on your window sill was very tempting. So tempting that you couldn't help but to open the window and make a little ball out of the cold flakes. You loved the feeling of the snow melting in your hand, memories playing in the back of your mind. Suddenly, a smile crept on your face, a hilarious plan forming into your mind.

Gathering a bit more of the precious snow, you shaped it in a no too tight ball and hide it behind your back. You didn't want to hurt him with a too-tight ball at close range, but you wanted it to explode all over his chest. As quietly as possible, you made your way back to your sleeping boyfriend. Luckily for you, he wasn't a light sleeper, especially when both symbiote and man joined forces to give you a complete night of sensation and pleasure. The following mornings were generally passed in bed, cuddling with feather-like touches and small kisses.

Climbing in the bed, you straddled his abdomen and peppered his face with kisses while slowly touching his exposed chest. In no time, a black snaky head formed near Eddie's head, a small toothy smile greeting you. His low purr made you giggle before you greeted him with his daily good morning kiss on the head.

You had made it your personal mission to thank the symbiote every day for saving your life. The boys repeated you countless of time that you didn't have to do it, Venom was happy to save you from any danger, but you wouldn't have any of that. It started with baked goods. He always loved your cookies and cakes, so each day there was a tray full for him. You never told them, but you wanted to give the symbiote cookies because he still scared the shit out of you at first. This tactic had as a goal to keep him away from you while maybe gain his good graces. You had them already but all you could see in him was a dangerous predator and every time he was fully out, the hair on your neck would rise. But then you finally saw the soft side of him. It was there for you the whole time, only for you, but you were blinded by the fangs, the wicked talons and the difference of height. He had always been delicate around you, cautious to never cause you any harm or scare you off for good. He could smell your fear whenever he was there, saddening him that he couldn't have his affection returned. Eddie was there to cheer him up and show him to be patient. Your reaction was normal, you just needed time. All his efforts paid off in the end because one day after he had defended you from Eddie's eternal teasing about your 'Canadian spirit' (all that because you can't stop yourself from saying sorry) you had kissed his head as a thank you for helping you. He had blinked at you several time, seemingly processing the interaction and suddenly a loud purr resonated in the room. Your laughter surprised even yourself and you couldn't resist but pet Venom's head like you would do a cat. His eyes closed in bliss and the purring continued for a while. He wasn't as monstrous as you initially thought, so you changed your thank you tactic for kisses on the head. With time, your kisses held a much more different meaning. Venom could feel your affection in them and in your manner of interacting with him, in your little touches, your smiles, and whispers at night. He thought he was glad that he had found his perfect host, but he was really glad that his host had found the perfect partner for both of them.

Venom returned your kiss with a little lick on the cheek of his own, satisfying his craving for your contact. His little head nuzzled your neck, leaving little licks here and there. You returned to your task of waking up your human boyfriend, placing your hand not holding the snowball on his cheeks, the feeling of his subtle facial hair tickling your palm made you smile. How you got such a handsome gal and his symbiote in your life was beyond your understanding. You were so normal, sometimes you couldn't stop yourself but be shy in public when you were with him. You would try to make yourself small, but they wouldn’t have any of that, instead getting you to the front if the attention and showing you off. His wonderful girlfriend, he would always say.

Your gaze meets a sleepy blue one, his lips moving to form a smile while a hand moved to your buttocks. He never told you, but you knew he loved it when you wore his shirts. Every time there was one on the floor, you would pick it up and wear it with nothing else. At first, there weren’t a lot of them, he would usually throw them in the laundry basket but some didn't make it because he got home late at night and was too exhausted to reach the basket. After some time of your form wearing only his shirts around the apartment, you started to find his shirts on the floor more often.

"Good morning gorgeous." His raspy voice reached your core, making you blush lightly. You hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"Good morning handsome." You kissed his throat following by his lips and sit back up on him. The snowball started to melt in your hand so you had to make your move soon. Your radiant smile made him frown in confusion.

"Today is not Christmas, right? I think there's another month before that." His question made you laugh. You shook your head and started to trace forms on his chest.

"You're right." You stopped your tracing and leaning down to his ear. "Last night, something spectacular happened." You whispered.

His hand on your ass tightened in recollection of last night’s activities. Little did he know that you weren't talking about that. He grunts in approval to your statement and shifts a bit beneath you. You straightened once more and smiled sweetly at his naked form.

"You see, it snowed last night and I thought that you would like to feel it." You said, getting on your knees and ready to throw the snowball at him, your hand in the air.

He immediately tried to protect himself with his arms, forming an X between you and him. His eyes were wide open and his voice urgent.

"Don't you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!"

You couldn't help yourself but throw it at his chest, bypassing his bad protection. In a second, you were on your feet and ran for the kitchen in an attempt to put distance between you and the cursing man. Your laughter led him back to you in seconds, his pissed expression making you double over and clench at your stomach. His strong hands got a hold of your body, carrying you over his shoulder to the bathroom. He put you in the shower, cautious that you won't fall in the tub while Venom started the cold water. Your laughter stopped immediately when the cold water came in contact with your skin and a shriek escaped your lips. You tried to get out the tub but Eddie's strong arms blocked your escape.

"I'm sorry!" You shouted in an attempt to make them stop. Soon after, the water warmed up and Eddie joined you under the shower.

His lips found yours, initiating a well-known choreography. Your hands found their home in his hair while his were busy unbuttoning his navy shirt from your body. When he managed to open the all, he lost no time in getting it off of you, your hands leaving the softness of his hair for a moment. Your lips never let go of his, exploring the well-known territory that was his mouth. His hands got to your rear once more and a subtle tightening of his fingers told you when to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. His firm cock getting in contact with your skin got a low moan from him, the sound muffled by your mouth locked on his. Desperate for air, you pulled away, panting. His mouth shot to your throat, kissing and sucking on all your tender spots he passed so much time mentally mapping.

His thumb found your bundle of nerves, applying a good amount of pressure and being awarded by your moans. He played with you a bit, alternating between your clit and your entrance, working out your patience. He loved to hear you beg for his cock inside you, loved how desperate your kisses become after a bit of teasing. However, he had to be cautious because if he pushed you too far, you knew how to use Venom to your advantage and Eddie would be in the passenger seat while Venom took control of his body. The symbiote wouldn't come out, but everything would be him. He would control his limbs, his voice, he would have the feelings first hand and Eddie would have the remnants. Now, he couldn't have that. Maybe later, but certainly not now.

Impatience flashed in your eyes and Eddie was quick to silence you with a passionate kiss. The head of his cock teased your entrance, a buck of your hips telling him to hurry. His hard shaft slowly got in with ease, you walls deliciously tightening around him as if to welcome him. It was there that he truly felt at home, in you to the tilt, connected to you in the most intimate way and allowed to share every feeling with you without any shame. With each trust your panting accelerated and your moans became louder. Music to his ears, your voice encouraged him to go faster and deeper, reaching spots that he knew would get you to your climax and get him over the edge with you.

His name was your anchor. You moaned it in pleasure, a sweet devotion in his ears. Your fingers tightened in his hairs and he knew you were close. His thrusts became erratic, unable to concentrate on one thing. His thumb returned to your clit, giving you the pressure you needed to reach your orgasm and trigger his own. Both your moans resonated in the bathroom, the sound of the shower faint in the background. Eddie's legs were shaking a bit due to the force of his climax, but he got a good grip on you, Venom helping a lot. Closing the shower, he got you out of the tub and slowly put you on your wobbly feet.

You both dry yourself quickly and made your way back to your shared bedroom. Eddie followed you, his eyes mesmerized by the perfect form of your ass. He got a perfect view of your pussy when you bent down to get another shirt of his that was laying on the floor and put it on. Eddie tried to stop you from doing so but failed when you ducked under his arms. Quickly, you fastened the buttons and smiled, victorious.

"Love, I need this one today. Got an interview at 2." He put his hand in front of him, palm open up as if you were going to give it to him. Fool. Shaking your head, you took a step back with a playful smile.

"No. It was on the floor, I can take it." Was your simple answer. Frowning, Eddie made his way toward you in his naked glory.

"You heard me. Take. It. Off. I need it. It was clean and just fell on the floor." He presented his hand again and you shook your head again.

"And you heard me. No." At that, Eddie jumped forward and grabbed your waist. If you will not give him his shirt, he will take it. Before his hand even started lifting the fabric from your form, you hit him with your secret weapon. "You won't let a pregnant woman all naked in the cold, would you?"

It did the trick, his hands stopped moving immediately and his breath caught in his throat. He blinked, just like Venom when you first kissed his head, and his mouth opened in silent words. His hands let go of the shirt and slowly moved to your stomach. He frowned and his face took a concentrated expression. You knew he and Venom were communicating. You could feel Venom's heat through the fabric of Eddie's shirt, probably searching for proof of your saying. When Eddie's eyes returned to yours, tears were menacing to fall, his hands shaking a bit on your belly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Since when do you know?" His voice is low, almost afraid that you will tell him that it was a joke even with the confirmation that a little being was growing inside your womb. He felt the tiny heartbeat with Venom's sharpened senses.

"Two days ago. I haven't been in my period in a while, so I tried a test." Putting your hand on his, "Congratulations, daddy." The tears accumulating in his eyes finally spilled and fell on your joined hands. Seeing his reaction made you tear up too, his happiness being contagious. His lips meet yours in a quick kiss before his laugh reached your ears.

"I can't wait to see your showing belly in my shirts." He kneeled in front of you, pulled the front of the shirt and got his head in the shirt, his face on your belly with the shirt on the back of his head. Wasting no time, he kissed your skin and whisper sweet words to your unborn child, his facial hair tickling you. From your place, it seemed like you had a bump instead of your boyfriend's head and the shirt was already tight with the extra flesh.

"I think I'll have to change to your sweater, your shirts will become too tight very quickly." You touch his head like you would do your growing belly. You couldn't wait for the child to be born and present him or her their amazing father. Getting out of the piece of clothing, Eddie got up and nodded, beaming.

"Good idea." He hugged you tightly, "You don't know how happy you're making me." His voice was muffled by your hair, but you heard him clearly. You knew he would be happy. You two had already talked about having kids and you remember how Eddie was scared that you wouldn't want to have a child with him. You were quick to correct him, but you knew he didn't completely believe you. Now, it was happening and he was overjoyed. "Thank you."

"It was a team effort." You kissed the side of his head. "Well, more like you made all the effort but now it's my turn for 9 months, so team effort." He laughed at that. "More seriously though, I always wanted a kid with you Ed. So thank you." You tightened your arms a bit around his back and shrieked when he suddenly lifted you and put you on the bed.

His wicked smile told you everything you needed to know. Kissing your lips, Eddie made its way south, kissing an invisible path toward your wetness. You protested a bit but was cut off by Eddie's tongue on your clit.

"Let us thank you properly, love." His low tone made you shiver and suddenly you forgot why you tried to stop him from touching your aching flesh.

Tag List: @slither-in-a-half @a-frozen-bag-of-corn @noshi-chan

#venom (movie)#eddie brock x reader #venom x reader #snowball #showersex #first smut

373 notes · View notes

out-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

Airplane Mode || Track 05: Moving On | jhs

Summary: Inspired by Love at First Touch by bagelswrites.

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language?

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Explicit language.

Warnings: Language.

Words written like this are spoken in Korean.

Eunjae glared at the screen displaying boarding times like it was responsible for all of her life problems. Though in this instance, it kind of was.

With water dripping down her hand from the sweating plastic cup filled with coffee she held, Eunjae took a deep breath to stop herself from getting arrested by security for assaulting airport property. She’d already gotten lost multiple times in the obnoxiously large airport. And then once she finally found her gate to check in, the staff working at the desk politely informed her that the flight to Seoul was completely full. Therefore she would need to check her carry-on suitcase in with the rest of her bags because there wouldn't "be enough room in the overhead compartment."

Eunjae had been so tired up to that point, from the emotional farewell with her best friend to the long lines and early hours of the morning. She’d never been an early riser. In fact, the only way to even get her out of bed before eleven was if you bribed her with caffeine. And seeing as how her flight was supposed to leave at 6:54 am, she’d been wandering around half-awake like a zombie. After Eunjae'd gotten turned around in the airport for the third time, she finally caved and bought a ridiculously expensive iced coffee. Even though the side effects of First Touch turned the normally delicious drink into trash.

Taking another sip out of her rapidly draining cup, Eunjae tried not to grimace at the taste. If she was being completely honest, it tasted like she licked the walls of a dirty alleyway. But caffeine was caffeine and she would at least try to drink it while she could still stomach food. With a sigh, Eunjae slipped her vibrating phone out of the back pocket of her pants to read over the latest text from Hoseok. She’d sent a message off to him once she passed through security check to let him know that she would be on her way soon.

Well, she would have been.

Green straw pressed between her lips, Eunjae’s freshly manicured fingers flew across the keyboard. She wasn’t one to get her nails done routinely, since it would just get ruined when she worked on a new clothing piece. But Miles had forced her into getting a mani-pedi with him. Something about not letting her meet Bangtan with busted nails or whatever, but he’d volunteered to pay so she’d acquiesced.

A ding alerted her to a new text and she sent off a reply as she reluctantly trudged her way back to her gate.

Eunjae’s stupid flight had gotten delayed by almost six hours because of some storm raging in the middle of the ocean. She didn’t know if she was more angry at the fact that she now had so much time to fill, or that she could have still been asleep.

What the hell am I supposed to do for that long? She thought angrily as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. Hiding her glare behind the protective lenses of her sunglasses, she grumbled to herself.

Six hours and almost a season of Parks and Rec later, the call for her flight to start boarding came over the loudspeaker. WIth a final glance at the blank notification screen of her phone, Eunjae gathered her red mini backpack and boarded the plane. Hoseok had yet to respond to her last message, so she just assumed that he was super busy with his schedule for the day.

Settling into her roomy seat on the giant plane, Eunjae silently thanked Big Hit for getting her a first class ticket on a non-stop flight. Her seat was separated from the one next to her by a wall that rose over the top of her head. There was a small table right underneath the movie screen in front of her and she dropped her backpack on it before reclining in her chair.

As the flight attendant at the front of the plane began to read off safety instructions, Eunjae leaned her head back against the headrest and hoped that she’d at least be able to get some sleep.

With dark red nails tapping impatiently on the countertop of the help desk, Eunjae watched through tired eyes as the staff member manning it clicked away at her computer. The rest of the baggage claim was completely devoid of people and the notes of some slow song playing over the loudspeaker echoed hauntingly.

Eyes hooded with exhaustion, Eunjae spared a quick glance out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the wall in baggage claim. It was too dark to see anything properly so her hunched over reflection greeted her through the glass. With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair and straightened the hem of her cut-off black hoodie. The material fell right underneath her bellybutton and the top of her black joggers prevented any chance of seeing skin. Eunjae toed the tile floor with the tip of her white, platform Puma sneakers and sighed.

The bad luck of the day (days?) was apparently never ending. After falling into a weird, fever like sleep on the plane where she woke up confusedly every hour, Eunjae was greeted after landing in Incheon International Airport by the news of the airline losing her bags. It was almost three in the morning and she couldn’t even call Sejin to let him know the issue since her American phone didn’t operate in South Korea. The man was probably wondering where the hell she was.

“Ah,” the voice of the female staff member drew Eunjae’s attention. The middle aged woman looked up from her computer with an apologetic smile. “Your bags are currently in Beijing.”

Eunjae could only respond with a slow blink as her tired brain tried to process the information. She’d been lucky that the woman at the counter could speak English. She didn’t even want to imagine how the conversation would go with a round of charades.

“Beijing?” She parroted back stupidly. Her voice was still a little groggy from her attempt at sleep.

“Yes.” The woman bobbed her head, her brunette hair brushing her shoulders with the motion. “We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

Eunjae just nodded slowly. “When can they get here?”

“In about three days or so. If you write down the address of where you’re staying, we could have them send your belongings straight to you.”

Eunjae filled out the slip of paper robotically, pen jotting down her new address quickly. Luckily she’d memorized it from the amount of times she’d had to write it down on boxes to ship out. None of those boxes, unfortunately, carried any of her clothes. Eunjae hadn’t sent any out until two days ago. The rest of her clothing was in the bags lost somewhere in Beijing.

She silently cursed her past self for being so stupid. But she’d needed clothes to wear back at home, damnit!

The rest of the interaction passed by in a blur and Eunjae walked out of baggage claim with only her mini backpack and a copy of the form she filled out. Luckily, the signs in the airport were labeled in both Engilsh and Korean, so she had no trouble finding her way out.

As she went through the empty queue at immigration and rode the escalator down to the main floor and entrance, Eunjae gently slapped her cheeks to wake herself up. She’d been on the receiving end of one too many stares on the journey and couldn’t wait for the bruises to heal. Stepping off at the ground floor, Eunjae immediately spotted Sejin pacing back and forth near the escalators. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his thick brown coat and a white face mask was pulled down to his chin. Eunjae shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder and cleared her throat.

“Hey.” She didn’t need to raise her voice since the airport was empty anyway.

Sejin’s head snapped up from where he’d been staring intently at his shoes, and a look of relief twisted his features. Stepping closer, his tense shoulders relaxed. “You’re here. I was starting to worry.”

“Yeah, sorry about the wait.” A large yawn interrupted Eunjae mid sentence and she covered her mouth with a sweater paw. “They lost my bags.”

“Ah.” Sejin frowned. “How long until they ship them to you?”

Eunjae waved the flimsy paper in her hands, the edges fluttering with the movement. “Three days. So please excuse my homeless-chic appearance until then. What I’m wearing is all I have.”

Sejin shook his head and gestured for her to follow him to the door. “We’d initially planned for you to meet Bang PD-nim and the rest of the members tomorrow morning--well now this morning. But we can arrange for someone to take you shopping first.”

The automatic doors swished open and Eunjae frowned at the cold wind that bit across her cheeks. Hands shoving into the pouch of her hoodie, she looked around the empty passenger pick-up area. The bright lights from inside the airport’s floor-to-ceiling windows gave them plenty of light to see by as she followed the man down the wide pathway.

“I don’t really have a lot of money to spend on clothes.” Eunjae’s words puffed a white cloud into the winter air. Unfortunately for her, it was just as cold in Korea as it was in New York. She could already feel her cheeks starting to freeze.

Sejin sent her a weird look as they crossed the empty street towards an even more deserted part of the pick-up zone. Eunjae could just barely make out a parked van through the darkness. “You wouldn’t be paying.”

Eunjae snorted in amusement through her slowly reddening nose and joked, “less than an hour here and you’re already planning a robbery on some poor clothing store. Shaking my head, Sejin. You’re a bad influence.”

The lack of sleep was beginning to get to her.

Rolling his eyes in good humor, Sejin gave a fake, put-upon sigh. “You’re going to fit in with the boys great.”

She simply raised an eyebrow at him and watched as he slid a keyring out of the pocket of his jeans. The van was close and Eunjae picked up her pace a little at the thought of gaining solace from the freezing wind. Her short legs had to work almost double time to keep up with tall Sejin.

“Like I said before,” he began, clicking a button on the keyring to unlock the vehicle; its lights flashed twice. “Big Hit will cover all of your expenses while you're here. That includes anything and everything you might need.”

Eunjae grimaced. She really didn’t like the thought of being dependant on someone for so long. Even if that someone was a millionaire like Bang PD. “I don’t want to just be given things without working for it. That doesn't sit right with me.”

The tall man paused in his steps, causing her to stop as well. Staring down at her seriously, he held the keys in his hand tighter. “You’ve just moved out here to a completely different country; you’ve given up a lot and we recognize that. So let us at least try and make up for it.”

All Eunjae could do was blink at his statement. Sejin patted her shoulder twice and stepped off again leaving Eunjae with no choice but to follow in silence. They were at the van now and she stepped up next to Sejin as he slid the backdoor open for her. Why he didn’t want her to sit in the passenger seat, she had no idea. But the question answered itself as soon she slid inside and the door closed behind her.

Leaning against the opposite door of the row’s seats sat Jung Hoseok. The hood of his chalk grey coat was pulled up over his dark, wavy hair and a small gold chain hid beneath his neckline. With the silver zipper pulled halfway down his chest, the soft cotton of his charcoal covered shirt stretched across his chest. Hoseok had on his own pair of black joggers and Eunjae silently wondered if always accidently matching clothes was a soulmate thing, or if they just had the same taste in fashion.

The second the door closed, Hoseok pulled down the black face mask covering the bottom half of his face and gave her a smile so big that the tiny dimples on his cherub cheeks popped into existence. His dark eyes turned into adorable half moons as he spread his arms wide open with flapping hands. “You’re here!”

Eunjae just about died on the spot. From the scent of his masculine cologne in the air, to the sudden warmth of escaping the biting wind, to his cute accented voice. Her tired brain was beginning to short circuit from all of the input.

Returning his smile with one of her own, she responded, “I’m here.”

As she slid the backpack from her shoulders, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in confusion and sent a glance back towards the still empty trunk of the van. Turning back to her, he waved a hand at the backpack between her feet.

“No more?” His brows pinched together in bewilderment.

The driver side door opened then, and Sejin slipped inside and started the van quickly, likely wanting to warm up just as much as she did. The car rumbled to life and the vents perched on the ceiling of the vehicle flooded the space with lukewarm air.

Shaking her head at Hoseok’s question, Eunjae answered him as the automatic door lights shut off and plunged them all in darkness. A soft glow from the center console at the front cast his face in shadow as Sejin finally pulled away from the curb. “My bags are somewhere in Beijing right now.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened comically as he seemed to grasp the gist of what she was saying. He leaned closer and Eunjae had to almost physically stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Soulmate or not, they were still strangers and Eunjae wasn’t comfortable enough with him to invade his personal space. So no matter how much his body called out to hers, how much the blood in her veins sang out for him, she shoved the feeling of longing deep into the recesses of her mind.

“What? Why?”

Eunjae had never been so grateful for her ability to retain information that she crammed into her brain last minute as she easily translated Hoseok’s Korean. Miles had been giving her random pop quizzes at all times of the day to try and help. Even though he had no idea what he was saying and ended up pronouncing half of the words wrong anyway. Scrunching her nose in thought, Eunjae pulled up the virtual dictionary floating through her exhausted brain. She didn’t know a lot of Korean vocabulary and the rules of sentence structure confused the hell out of her. So she wasn’t confident in how coherent her response was.

“They lost them.”

Eunjae wasn’t sure if Hoseok’s reaction was because of what she said or the fact that she’d spoken it in his language. Heart shaped lips spreading into another smile, his long fingers came up to frame either side of his face. “Your Korean is good!”

“Ah, I don’t know a lot.” A pout formed unconsciously on her face as she shrugged non-committedly.

“Still.” Hoseok beamed. One of his hands moved as if he were going to touch her before he seemingly thought better of it and dropped it on the seat between them.

A few beats of silence overtook the car that hovered over the soft music playing from the speakers. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was the kind of silence that reared its head when two people didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was because they were both tired, or perhaps it stemmed from the fact that they barely spoke each other’s language. But the invisible barrier between them appeared more solid without the ability to communicate via texted emoji.

“We still have a long drive ahead of us.” Sejin finally broke through the quiet from up front. “If the two of you want to get some rest, now would probably be a good time. Today’s schedule starts early.”

He repeated his suggestion in Korean so that Hoseok could understand and Eunjae felt her fatigued body scream out at the thought of another early morning. She instantly felt guilty, however, as she glanced over at Hoseok. Even in the lack of light she could see how worn out he was, even though he was trying his best to scrape up whatever energy he could find for her. The fact that he’d even chose to come pick her up when he could have been sleeping spoke about what kind of person he was.

Whatever exhaustion she was feeling after a day and a half didn’t even hold a candle to the years that he’d felt the same way. With a frown pulling at her lips, Eunjae slowly reached out to gently pat the hand lying on the seat between them. She tried to ignore the instantaneous reaction as the electrifying energy buzzing between their skin warmed her veins. Hoseok’s hand twitched under hers and Eunjae had to stop herself from curling her small fingers around his longer ones. It wasn’t in a romantic sense. Her body was just reacting to whatever science it was that drew soulmates together, so not all of her reactions were completely in her control.

“Sleep.”

Hoseok’s tired eyes peered at her through the dark as he sent her a grateful smile. He flipped the palm of his hand over to softly squeeze hers and Eunjae was almost surprised when the static the gesture sent through her wasn’t visible in the air between them.

“You too.”

As the van drove down the virtually empty highway, a strip of light from the streetlamps lining the road flashed through the tinted windows of the van. Hoseok’s eyes were already closed, his long eyelashes brushing against the apples of his cheeks. How he’d managed to fall asleep so fast, Eunjae didn’t know. But what she did know, was that his hand was still holding onto hers in the warmth of the voiceless, dark car.

The sound of a car door shutting forced Eunjae’s eyes open. It was either that, or the sudden rush of cold air brushing against her skin. When her eyes had fallen shut in the first place, she wasn’t sure. But as the overhead car lights flickered off, they drifted closed again. The comfortable heat pressing against her side threatened to drag her back into unconsciousness.

And it would have if the door to the backseat of the van hadn’t slid open. Eunjae groaned as the cold coaxed goosebumps from her covered flesh. The soft material her face was pressed into shifted as if sensing her annoyance. Stuck somewhere between the land of dreams and that of the conscious, Eunjae wasn’t sure if the warm breath that brushed the top of her head was real or not.

A light chuckle breached through the darkness of her closed eyelids. “Wake up you two. We’re here.”

The lights on the ceiling of the van were getting harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, the weight that she’d barely processed over her shoulders shifted as her pillow mumbled incoherently. The deep, sleep filled voice set off familiar bells in her head, and Eunjae peeled her eyes open with the speed of a sloth. It always took her at least twenty minutes after waking to fully fall into consciousness.

Her eyes blinked leisurely as her brain tried to process what was going on. The first thing she noticed was that she was confusedly on the other side of the car than the one she’d been sitting on. The next was that she’d somehow grown four legs, two of which were larger than hers. It could have taken her two minutes or two hours for her brain to process it, she wasn’t sure.

However, it wasn’t until she lifted her head from where it’d been comfortably pressed into Hoseok’s side that she finally came to the realization. Sometime, somehow, over the course of the drive her body had acted on its own accord and snuggled itself into his side. He had one arm thrown across her shoulders while his other hand sleepily rubbed through the wavy hair under his hood. Hoseok’s eyes were half lidded as his lips parted in a wide yawn. Both of their bodies, it seemed, had answered the other’s call while they were unconscious.

It be ‘ya own body. Eunjae thought half drunkenly, resisting the urge to ignore everything and go back to sleep. Turning her head to the side, she saw the light washed figure of Sejin standing at the open van door.

“You guys going to stay in there all night? Or are you going to come out?”

While she couldn’t make out his expression, Sejin sounded very amused. Eunjae knew enough Korean to be able to get the gist of what he’d said, or at least she hoped she did.

“Mmm. Yeah.” Hoseok grumbled, lifting the arm from around her shoulders to rub at his face. If he was at all phased by how he woke up, he didn’t show it. His voice was deeper than normal, vocal cords still coated with sleep.

Eunjae was still barely processing what was going on around her, but she was awake enough to slide across the seats and scoop up her bag. Sejin moved out of the way as she swung her legs out the door, pausing a moment to blink rapidly from the bright lights overhead. It appeared like they were in some underground parking garage. The frigid air pulled a small whimper from her throat as she hopped out. The garage wasn’t super huge and it looked like Sejin had pulled the van around to park in a darkened corner. By the way it was just pulled to the side and not in a parking space, Eunjae figured that this wasn’t his final destination.

At the sound of Hoseok’s shoes hitting the concrete behind her, Eunjae shuffled out of the way so that he wouldn’t fall over her as he got out. As he stretched his arms above his head, she quickly averted her eyes as the hem of both his coat and shirt raised to reveal a strip of golden skin.

God, what K-drama is this? Eunjae just barely resisted rolling her eyes at the universe. I think we’ve hit just about every cliche by now.

“I’ll show you to your apartment.” Sejin spoke, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty garage. Eunjae looked up at him and narrowed her eyes at the bags under his. The man looked completely and utterly drained. Like he was two blinks away from falling asleep standing up.

“Just tell me the code and how to get there, I’ll find it.” Stuffing her hands into her hoodie pouch, she rocked back and forth on her feet in an attempt at warming up. The winter air was slowly starting to shock her body into becoming more and more awake. “You look like you need some sleep too.”

Chuckling, Sejin ran a hand down his face. “I’m not going to have you wandering the halls. It won’t take long.”

Eunjae refused to back down, however. With a head jerk at a yawning Hoseok, who looked like he wasn’t even trying to follow the conversation, she asked, “does Hobi know the way?”

At the sound of his name, Hoseok turned from where he was closing the van door and shuffled over to them. Hunched against the cold, his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his now fully zipped coat.

“Yes.” Sejin admitted.

“And the door code?”

The taller man let out a deep sigh, his warm breath puffing into the air. “Yes.”

With a smile of victory brightening her sleepy face, Eunjae rocked back onto her heels with a nod. “Cool. Then he can show me, right? And you can go home and sleep?”

Sejin’s narrowed eyes lacked heat as he finally relinquished. “You’re stubborn. But fine.”

The man reluctantly translated for Hoseok, who’s lips twitched as he sent Eunjae what looked to be a thankful glance. His response went completely through one of Eunjae’s ears and out the other, his deep voice causing her tired eyes to fall shut momentarily. She was always a sucker for the groggy voices of men who were still half asleep and the sound made her yearn for her bed.

“Someone will come grab you in the morning to take you shopping for some clothes.” The statement was directed at Eunjae and she nodded in acknowledgement of Sejin’s words. With one last glance back at the pair, the taller man made his way back to the van and slipped inside.

The brush of Hoseok’s fingers against the middle of her back brought her attention back to him. With a nod towards the elevators in the middle of the garage, he let his hand drop. “This way.”

The ride up to the eighth floor passed in silence. It was more comfortable than the one in the car and it seemed that whatever skinship they shared in the van chipped away a little at the invisible barrier between them. It was still standing strong, but Eunjae didn’t feel quite as awkward as before. Maybe it was because she was half conscious, or perhaps it was because she’d been snuggled up to his side less than ten minutes ago. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to complain.

With a quiet ding the elevator doors slid open and Eunjae followed Hoseok as he walked straight down the hallway. The beige colored walls and carpeted floor passed them by and at the end of the hall was a T-shaped intersection. Hoseok peeled left, but slowed down as he pointed a thumb in the opposite direction.

“Bangtan’s that way.” Eunjae turned as she glanced at where he was pointing with a hum. He stopped a few feet down in front of a white door with the numbers 821 embedded in a small plaque above it. Hand fluttering at the door, Hoseok spoke again.

“This is you.” With a glance down at her, Hobi made sure that she was watching as he slid up the code panel and slowly typed in a five digit code. The light above the numbers flashed green and a gently beep sounded as he twisted down the handle. He pointed from the panel to her, and back and tilted his head with a small smile. “You understand?”

“Yeah.” If she was going to be on the receiving end of his eye smile every time she spoke Korean, then she was going to find herself fluent, and soon.

Hoseok stood in the doorway with his back propping the door open. He didn’t enter, seemingly not wanting to invade her space. As she brushed past him to step through the threshold, the soft call of her name caused her to turn back towards him mid-step.

“Call if you..,” He trailed off, lips pursed as he searched for the correct words. The hood had fallen off his head sometime from getting out of the car until now and Hoseok reached up a hand to run through his wavy locks.

“I will.” Eunjae smiled at him reassuringly and he sent her back a grateful smile. “Thank you, Hobi.”

Beaming at her once again, Hoseok reached out and gently ruffled the top of her head, unintentionally sending tingles running a path down her spine. “You’re welcome! See you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight.”

"Goodnight." Her voice followed him softly as the door closed behind him, taking both the scent of him and his warmth. Eunjae pressed her forehead against the cool wall closest to her. The apartment behind her was still shrouded in shadow as she sighed into the paint. Tomorrow she was going to meet both Bang PD-nim and the rest of the members of Bangtan.

“No biggie.” Her voice muttered sarcastically into the dark, silent apartment. “No biggie at all.”

#bts #bts fanfic #hoseok #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction

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tera-91 · 5 years ago

Text

It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas

Hey everyone! This has been stuck in my head since Christmas day. It originally started as a short (Maybe 1000 or less fluff fic) but turned into …. well quiet a bit more than that 😂 Hope you like it and as always feel free to comment 💜 I love feedback

Summary: Everyone has been busy and the holiday season snuck up on everyone, especially Virgil who feels guilty and wants to do something speical for his boyfriend

Pairings: Virgil/Patton (Moxiety) Roman/Logan (Logince)

Word count: 3780

Virgil woke up at 5 am like usual. This time though he wasn’t brought back to the land of the conscious by the sound of his blaring alarm clock. Patton had made sure that had been turned off before the pair had gone to bed the night before. A shifting figure beside him made him look down at the mop of strawberry blond hair. Patton always made sure the alarms were only turned on when the alarms owner had to be up the next morning. He took a deep breath and sighed at the smell of sweet pea and magnolia, the smell had always relaxed him. He didn’t know what he would do without Patton. He gently hugged the smaller figure closer to him.

Virgil was almost back to sleep when he heard an alarm clock break through the silence of the house. He reached over and clicked the light button for Patton’s clock to make a soft blue light display the time. 6 am. Huh, it had to be Logan’s clock but the genius didn’t have to go to work. None of them did.

Reluctantly, Virgil gently pulled away from Patton as to not wake him. Once out of bed Virgil couldn’t stop the small heart palpitation as he watched Patton grab his pillow and turn over, but a smile soon followed as Patton simply snuggled into the pillow and back to a restful sleep. Virgil walked over to his desk chair where Patton had a habit of throwing Virgil’s hoody when he pulled it off in his sleep. He slipped on the, slightly ragged, article of clothing and made his way into the common area of the three-bedroom home.

As he thought, Logan was there, although slightly more disheveled than he was used to seeing the other man. He actually had on pajamas, that he was sure Roman bought him, for once. The main clue was that the pants had the Andromeda galaxy and Logan rarely bought anything that had the stars on it as it seemed nothing was ever accurate enough for him to buy on his own accord. He had on a Beauty and the Beast night shirt, that was definitely Roman’s as it was at least 2 sizes too big for him. He stood at the counter, half asleep with his hair sticking up in various places and glasses slightly askew, while he waited for the coffee to finish.

“Sorry Logan, Patton turned off the alarm clocks and I forgot to set the coffee pot. Although, I didn’t expect any of us to be up this early either.” Virgil said as he reached up into the cabinet and pulled out their coffee mugs. “Go ahead and sit down, Ill bring you yours as soon as it’s done.” Virgil was somewhat surprised when Logan did just that. While he waited Virgil reached for the sugar and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator as took just a few moments for the coffee machine to stop with a beep to signal it was done. Sugar and milk with a splash of coffee for him, while Logan’s was mostly coffee with just a little milk. He was careful not to spill any as he made his way to the living room where Logan sat. Logan still seemed out of it as he handed him the mug, which was understandable as he had been told multiple times of Logan’s poor sleeping habits by Roman.

Virgil sighed as he sat down next to the bespectacled man. It would be an hour or so before either Roman or Patton would wake up, so for the time being it was quiet, but peacefully so. As they both drank their coffee Virgil jarringly realized it was Christmas Eve as he took in the state of the living room. They had all been so busy with work yet Roman or Patton or both had found some time to find some vaguely Christmas colored fairy lights and string them along the edge of the ceiling. He felt somewhat sad. He knew how much both loved the holiday, probably as much as he loved Halloween. Since it was Christmas Eve there wouldn’t be enough time to order anything for anyone and he doubted they would be able to find even a small tree to decorate. Virgil sighed, his anxiety had begun to build up. He didn’t like it when Patton was sad or disappointed and he was almost certain he would be.

“Contemplating current state of events?” Logan asked suddenly which caused Virgil to jump. Before he could say anything, Logan continued “We have all been busy, more so than last year and the lack of decoration reflects that.” He gestured towards the general area of the room a tree would sit.

Virgil took another sip of his coffee. “Yeah, something like that” he said as he ran his fingers along the edge of his hoodie. “I haven’t had the time to get my brothers anything let alone Patton.” He reluctantly admitted.

“I don’t suppose many of us have had time to find anything.” Logan began. “Roman has been booked with back to back shows between the two theaters and Re-re” a sigh escaped both of them at the thought of the chaotic twin. “Re has been in his forge every time Roman looks for him, working on commissions for the holidays.”

“Patton has been making a lot of trips to and from the bakery” Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “I lost count of how many dozens of cookies and cupcakes he has made for all the shelters and homes.” a small chuckle escaped him “You know Patton, even the animal shelters get a batch of handmade treats.”

Logan hummed in agreement. “Unless one has gathered gifts during the year, I’m sure we all will understand if we just get to spend tomorrow together, sans boxes wrapped in colorful paper or bags and bows.”

Virgil shifted, somewhat uncomfortable at the thought that Patton may have found him something but nothing had ever caught his eye as a Christmas present for his boyfriend. Roman and Re, well they were easy. All he had to do was call Joan, they would go to the metal store for him and probably stop by one of the supermarkets and grab something Disney related for him since they knew he didn’t do well in crowds.

That’s just what he was going to do he quickly decided.

Virgil got up from the couch and quietly made his way back to his bedroom. As he walked up to the bedside table, he was glad he had decided to put carpet in over the summer. He couldn’t help but take a little time to admire Patton. It always amazed him, the contrast of a sleeping Patton vs awake Patton. He looked peaceful and not at all like once he woke up, he would be full of energy that he would practically be bouncing off the walls.

Virgil sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his phone off the charger to text Joan.

V: Hey Joan would u mind going by the stores for me and grabbing Ro and Re presents for me?

J: What’cha thinking? V: Just about 10 pieces each of 15n20 and 1080 for Re, I’ll call Tyler and he can have it ready. For Ro, you no him basically anything Disney that catches ur eye. Especially anything Hercules.

J: Ah, got it! Ill get em and bring it by tonite when I come get Tals present from your place. Prewrapped ;)

V: Thanks Joan

J: NP V!

Virgil let out a quiet huff. He had his brothers taken care of now, well he still had to call Tyler but for the most part it was done. He just had to wait and make sure Re was out at his forge before he called. He turned and looked at the still sleeping Patton. It took everything in him not to just lay down next to him and card his fingers through the red tipped strawberry blond hair, the slight curls already making it stick up in hilariously weird angles. A moderately loud crash, which meant Roman was awake, caught his attention. Luckily it didn’t even phase Patton. He stood up with a huff, he still had to figure out what he was going to get Patton for tomorrow morning. He placed his phone in his hoodie pocket and made his way back out towards the living room. Maybe Roman could help him.

Virgil almost immediately turned around once he reached the end of the hallway. From were he stood he could clearly see the kitchen. A few eggs cracked and splattered on the tile floor while a bowl with pancake mix was tilted over on its side and mostly all over the counter with some of it on the floor. His eyes soon landed on Roman, or more accurately Roman’s mostly bare back which was only barely covered by a tank top that partially obscured the colorful tattoo located there, he wore the matching pants to the shirt he had seen Logan wearing earlier.

“I don’t know how you two always end up making a mess when you flirt.” Virgil said, startling Roman enough for him to step away from the counter revealing Logan up on the quarts top, his glasses pushed up onto the top of his head.

“Ah dear brother, you are just jealous.” Roman said with a confident smile as he turned and leaned back against the counter between Logan’s legs. Logan immediately leaned forward and draped himself over Roman’s shoulders, fixing his glasses in the process. “Besides you and Patton are just as guilty.” He said as he tilted his head back to look up at Logan

Virgil just rolled his eyes at the older man. “Uh huh, I am so jealous that you two make a mess. Yet the mess is usually preexisting as I find it adorable when Patton is baking not simply about to start making breakfast.” He said as he gestured to the floor.

“He is not wrong Roman. Patton is usually already covered in flour. I had yet to make any sort of mess prior to your appearance.” Logan said, smirk half hidden in Roman’s hair. The twin to pouted and tilted his head back. This caused the shorter one to laugh and give him a kiss.

Virgil shook his head before he made his way around the mess to refill his coffee. “Just clean up the mess when you’re done.” He said with a chuckle and made his way back to the living room.

“Will do bro!” he heard Roman call out.

He shook his head as he sat down on the couch. As different Ro and Re were there were still quite a few similarities between their actions that neither wanted to admit. Then it hit him, what he could do for Patton. He would wait until later when Patton would go with Logan to go see Roman’s Christmas eve performance. He’d make him his favorite treats.

Patton was next to wake up. He padded his way into the living room as he rubbed his eyes. Virgil could tell from the look on his face when he glanced into the kitchen that Logan and Roman were either still in there making out or they had left it a mess. Either way Patton’s face became red and he immediately dived for Virgil’s side. Virgil simply chuckled, placed his empty coffee cup down on the table and scooped Patton up. He shifted himself so that he was laying down on the couch with Patton’s head resting on his chest and he began to run his fingers through his hair. Patton wordlessly snuggled further into Virgil, both glad to have some time to themselves.

However, the peace didn’t last very long. “I am off to the forge my lovies and Merry B*%&^$mas too all and to all a good day!” Remus’s boisterous voice boomed through the house followed by the slamming of the front door.

Neither was sure if it was the loud voice or the slamming front door but both jumped. Virgil instinctively hugged Patton closer to him in an attempt to shield him from the nonexistent danger while Patton could feel Virgil’s fast heartbeat through his shirt. The taller one groaned and he placed his hand on his face. “I am not related to that one in the slightest.” Virgil sighed which caused Patton to giggle. Virgil waited a few moments to ensure Remus hadn’t forgotten anything before he reached into his pocket to get his phone to call Tyler.

“You’re such a thoughtful little brother.” Patton said as he reached under the hoodie once Virgil hung up the call. A large smile spread across his face at the deep red blush that appeared on Virgil’s pale skin. He loved it when his boyfriend became a blushing, cuddly mess.

“I-i just know how much he enjoys making things, though how someone that is a-all over the place like that ended up taking up blacksmithing which requires quite a bit of con-concentration.” Virgil slightly stammered.

“It’s simple my dear brother. I am the prince and he is the pauper that wants to be close to the palace, so he makes all the royal guards gear from armor to swords.” Roman appeared leaning over the couch looking at the two. Now both of them were red in the face with embarrassment at the position they were in.

“Roman that makes no sense whatsoever, that is not even how the story went, the pauper was not conically a black smith by trade. Also, you two are in fact related unlike the two boys in the book.” Logan made his presence known.

“Details, details my adorable calculator watch.” Roman said as he swept Logan up in his arms.

“Did you clean up the kitchen yet?” Patton asked as he struggled to keep from laughing as the two nearly ran to the kitchen.

The day went by rather lazily as no work needed to be done. Both Virgil and Patton enjoyed laying on the couch, the tv had been turned on at some point. Roman and Logan had joined them not long after they ran back to the kitchen, this time the pancakes had actually been made. They brought Virgil and Patton a plate and the four of them ate, bickering between Roman and Virgil being the main form of entertainment. 2 pm finally came, simultaneously too soon and not soon enough for Virgil. The three left and Vigil got to work.

He couldn’t remember exactly which was Patton’s favorite but luckily, he had enough ingredients to make both, since Patton kept the pantry stocked almost as if the home was a medium volume bakery. Which as much as Patton experimented it probably could be.

After looking through every drawer and every cabinet Virgil was able to gather most of the ingredients he needed. “Let’s see. Sugar, salt, vanilla, flour, chocolate chips, powdered sugar, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, oil, water, milk. What am I missing?” Virgil asked himself as he looked over the items he had scattered across the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the large butter dish. Of course! Patton always had room temperature butter for when he did his baking, Virgil had to stop himself from smacking himself in the head.

Virgil got to work making the cookies. It was a tedious process. He started out with the filling by mixing powdered sugar and soft cream cheese. He made the first batch of dough and portioned them out. He broke the portions in half as equally as possible before he rolled them out, placed some of the filling on one before he placed the other half on top, sealed the edges of the stuffed cookies and placed them on a sheet before storing them in the refrigerator they had out in the garage.

He returned to the kitchen, mixed together a small bowl of equal parts cinnamon and sugar, and turned the oven to preheat for the next set of cookies. He began mixing the butter and sugar, some of it went flying out as he turned on the mixer. He hoped that enough stayed in the bowl as he added the vanilla and water. Having learned his lesson, he turned the mixer down low as he added in the flour. Unfortunately, when the light ingredient hit the bowl it looked like a cloud with some landing in his hair. Virgil silently cursed under his breath. No wonder Patton always ended up covered in flour or something else when he baked.

The oven beeped, an indication that the over was up to temperature. Virgil quickly tore the chocolate chip bag open, sending about a third of the bag flying in the process. He poured the rest of the chips into the dough, shakily he mixed it up and portioned them out before putting them on a sheet and in the oven.

As he waited for the cookies to bake Virgil set to cleaning the giant mess he made in the kitchen. He had just barely finished when the timer beeped. “Ugh how does Patton do this? I haven’t even gotten the powdered sugar out yet.” Virgil said as his anxiety began to increase. He took a deep breath, grabbed the potholders and took the cookies out of the oven. He carefully lowered the ovens temperature for the first batch of cookies before he turned around and grabbed a large shallow bowl, cooling rack and the bag of powdered sugar.

With shaky hands Virgil re-opened the powdered sugar, which of course had to explode out of the bag and dust the previously clean stone countertop, then poured some into the shallow bowl. He groaned; this was just impossible. Quickly, so not to burn his fingers, Virgil picked up a few of the cookies and rolled them in the powdered sugar before placing them on the cooling rack. Once he was done with that batch of cookies Virgil went to the garage for the first batch of cookies. He took each cookie and rolled them in the cinnamon sugar he made earlier before he placed them back on the sheet and slid it into the cooler oven.

As he set to work once again cleaning the kitchen, he didn’t hear the garage door open. “Virge?” Patton’s voice made Virgil stand ramrod straight. ‘No Patton can’t be home already’ Virgil thought. A hand on his shoulder and the timer going off simultaneously, made Virgil jump almost out of his skin.

“Pat? Babe what are you doing here?” Virgil asked practically losing control of his breathing as he quickly spun around and pulled the last batch of cookies and set them on top of the counter before he turned the oven off. He didn’t want to burn the cookies, after all they were for Patton. He knew he couldn’t hide what they were from him but that didn’t stop him from trying to block Patton’s view of them.

Patton simply giggled and pulled Virgil away from the hot appliance. “Well Remus showed up with you know who. Once the performance was over the four of them wanted to go and get something to eat to celebrate a wonderful performance.” Patton reached up and to shake the mixture of flour and powdered sugar from Virgil’s hair. “I took Roman’s car while they all piled in Remus’ I knew you had already been alone for a while. Also, I was hoping to get some alone time with you.” Patton said with a rare, somewhat smug, look before he pushed the taller one up against the wooded cabinets and cool stone counter before he pulled Virgil down for a kiss.

Virgil almost, almost, whined when the other pulled away. He couldn’t help the blush that spread across his face, neither of them was particularly forward when it came to affection, but Virgil couldn’t help how much he liked it when Patton would become bolder when the two of them were alone.

“What are you up to Virge? I come home and you look like an absolute ghost with all the flour and powdered sugar on you.” Patton smiled as he rubbed Virgil’s cheek that was also smudged with powdered sugar.

“Well, I um – I hadn’t been able to find you anything for Christmas tomorrow, so I thought.” Virgil said as he glanced over at the sheet full of cookies. “I thought I would make you some of your favorites, but it seems that I can’t do any of it right.” Virgil sighed as he ran his thumbs along Pattons hips. “I couldn’t hide them from you, and I don’t think I did it right. The first batch doesn’t look right and this one looks under done.”

Patton couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh Virge.” He started as he pulled back to peak around him. “Silly you did just fine.”

“Babe those don’t look anything like yours and the ones I just pulled out look like they’d fall apart as soon as you picked them up.” Virgil protested as the other pulled away slightly. “Pat? You ok? Your hand was kind of cold.” Virgil said as he reached up and grabbed one of Patton’s still chilled hands.

Patton quickly intertwined his fingers with Virgil’s and stuck their hands in the hoodie pocket so he could steal some of the warmth the oversize hoodie provided. “I’m fine Virgil, it was just cold outside and I forgot my gloves.” He said as he buried his face in his boyfriend’s chest. “You did great, the first ones just need another coat of powdered sugar and the others just need a few minutes to firm up as they cool down. You did just fine.” Patton said as he used his other hand and once again pulled Vigil down for a comforting kiss. Patton was always mesmerized how his lips were always so soft. Patton pulled back slightly “What made you do this?” Patton asked softly, afraid to break the moment.

Virgil leaned down so their foreheads touched. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t feel like Christmas tomorrow.” Virgil practically whispered.

“How could I possibly be disappointed when I’m with you, everyday feels like Christmas.” Patton said. At his words it felt like a wave washed over Virgil. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the shorter one. Tomorrow would certainly feel like Christmas even if it was just filled with fairy lights and cookies.

@tinkslittlebelle @teacupfulofstarshine @random-name-here @kindly-falling @xx-fandom-potato-xx @sylveon-lover-crazyfangirl1415 @sandersfander1820 @downrightdanny @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @princeanxious @sammys-ghostz @nope-not-more @moltengoldenstardust @coolerthan-a-vintagecassette @j-d-lightful @could-always-be-gayer-2 @altruistic-skittles @c4t1l1n4 @dutifullystrangequeerdom @i-read-by-lamp @thatcacidork @bigfirecreator @badluckkaren @eternal-optimists-world

#sanders sides fic #human au #Patton #Roman #Logan #Virgil #Remus #tera-91

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swanslieutenant · 5 years ago

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the art of summoning, part 1

My turn for posting a @csseptembersunshine story! Thanks to @captainsjedi for organizing this event, and I hope you all enjoy this one. It’s set in Season 4, during the 6 weeks of peace, and is one I started a long time ago (maybe even years ago), and this event finally spurred me to finish it. This will be two parts; I’ll post the second one up once I finish getting it all together!

Summary: Emma has yet to master the art of summoning, but if it can help Killian rescue the fairies from the Sorcerer's Hat, she's going to try to her best. Though, as typical in Storybrooke, things never seem to go to plan.

Rating and Warnings: Teen.

Read on AO3

On a cold, dim Tuesday, Emma gets out of her car down at Storybrooke’s docks, admiring the Storybrooke harbour in the warm afternoon light. Even from the street, the Jolly Roger is easily spotted, its tall mast towering over the rest of the fishing boats.

Emma makes her way closer, the take-out bag from Granny’s clenched tightly in her hand. As the deck comes into view, she can see the silhouetted figure of Killian, pacing back and forth. Belle had called her at the station earlier, her voice full of concern. She and Killian had been working all morning on researching ways to save the fairies from the Sorcerer’s Hat, but like all the other days they’ve spent, it was unproductive and frustrating. Killian, in particular, had been angry today, and he’d stormed off from the library in a heated temper.

Emma isn’t surprised; he’s been in a dark mood ever since they discovered it would be no easy task to save the fairies from the Sorcerer’s Hat. Each passing day with no success has blackened his mood further, and no matter how many times Emma tells him it’s not his fault, that Gold was controlling him, that he had no choice but to obey, it’s done nothing to alleviate his guilt or anger.

She continues on towards the ship, watching her step carefully on the slippery decks. The sight of the ship still sometimes takes her aback, with its polished timbers and white sails bound tightly up by old iron rigging. The rest of Storybrooke is mundane, nothing of its true magical origins in its ordinary appearance of a small fishing village, but the Jolly Roger is a sign of its otherworldliness, a true pirate ship amongst the regular vessels.

Sometimes Emma thinks that it’s even weirder that it’s her boyfriend’s pirate ship.

When she finally reaches the ship, Killian has stopped his pacing, standing at the starboard side now, staring out to the horizon. His hook is resting on the polished wood of the rail, his hand curled into a fist at his side. His back is to Emma, but she can see from the tense set of his shoulders and his white knuckles that his brow is most likely furrowed, his eyes dark with the broody look Emma is far too familiar with these days.

“Hey,” she calls, and he turns around, hand automatically going to the sword at his belt from centuries of instinct. He relaxes when he sees its her, smiling even in his dark mood, and she steps down onto the deck, holding out the bag from Granny’s. “I brought lunch.”

Killian crosses the deck to greet her, pressing a kiss into her hair as he wraps an arm around her. Emma finds it hard not to grin as she hugs him back; her life is sure different than it was a year ago, she marvels, as she hugs her boyfriend back on his pirate ship in a town filled with fairy tale characters. If she could go back and tell her past self what she’d be doing now, she’d never in a thousand years have believed it.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Killian says, releasing her to take the bag of takeout and opening it to peer inside. “Not that I’m complaining, love,” he amends quickly, when he notices Emma’s jokingly raised eyebrow. “How did you know I would be here?”

Emma pauses before answering, chewing on her lip. “Belle called me.”

His hand curls into a fist around the bag, paper crinkling loudly as his eyes darken, shuttering himself away ever so slightly.

“Ah.”

Emma steps closer, and says, trying to make her voice as firm as possible, “I know you feel awful about the fairies, Killian, but you can’t beat yourself up over the it all the time. This was Gold’s fault. Not yours.”

Killian shakes his head, a muscle in his jaw pulsing as he glances back out over the water, as if it has some consolation or answer for his anger.

“It was still by my hand,” he says, and his voice is nearly a growl. “If I had fought harder against the crocodile’s control or not provoked him in the first place, the fairies wouldn’t be trapped in a magical bloody hat with no hope of retrieval. So, I appreciate your effort, Swan, but it is my fault.”

Emma bites back a sigh. She’s argued this point with him for weeks now, and nothing will change his mind. Foregoing the argument for now as her stomach rumbles, she tugs on his arm, pulling him towards the stairs to his cabin below.

“Come on, let’s eat. Lunch is getting cold.”

They descend into his cabin, and Killian clears away the clutter on the central table for them to eat. Emma pointedly ignores the many handwritten notes and torn book pages about rescuing individuals from cursed items, and luckily lunch passes without any conversation about the fairies; Emma even manages to draw a few smiles and laughs from Killian.

He pours them each a glass of rum when they’re finished eating, and they move from the table to sit on his bed. Emma leans against his chest as she sips her drink, appreciating the quiet rocking of the ship against the waves, the call of the seagulls up above. Storybrooke has been quiet for weeks now, but it’s still unusual to just be able to have a normal lunch with Killian, to sit with him in peaceful silence, without the worry of a villain raining destruction upon the town.

Though it doesn’t last long; Emma’s phone buzzes then, disrupting the silence. Typical, she thinks, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Short-lived as always; peace and quiet is something she wonders if she’ll ever truly get.

The notification is a text from Regina, a simple Where are you? but Emma can hear her curt tone through the screen, and she groans. Regina has decided its time Emma learns more control over her magic. She had learned bits and pieces when Zelena, Elsa’s snow monsters, and Ingrid were terrorizing the town, but with this strange spell of peace and quiet, she actually has a chance to dedicate some time to the craft, instead of learning on the fly to combat an evil witch or conjured ice monster, and she was supposed to have a lesson starting about fifteen minutes ago.

“Duty calls?” asks Killian, and Emma sighs.

“No, but it’s Regina. We’re supposed to have one of our lessons today. I forgot.”

Emma disentangles herself from Killian, who rises from the bed himself to walk her off the ship. At the edge of his ship, he wraps his arms around her again, kissing her deeply, and for a moment Emma has a hard time rationalizing why she has to go see Regina at all right now.

It must show on her face, because Killian smirks at her.

“As much as I’d prefer you to stay here too, love, if you don’t show up at the vault, I have a suspicion that Her Majesty will be none too pleased, and I doubt the Jolly Roger will survive her fireballs of wrath. Though, for your sake, I hope she’ll be in a better mood today.”

“Doubtful,” Emma replies with a sigh. Regina is a challenge at the best of times, but ever since Robin left Storybrooke a few weeks ago with Marian, she’s been downright miserly, and most of her rage has been centered on Emma for being the one to bring Marian back in the first place.

Emma moves away from Killian, lest her mind change again, but before stepping off the ship, Emma pauses and turns around to face him again.

“We will get the fairies out of the hat, Killian. I promise.”

He nods, though his eyes grow distant again. “I hope so.”

He waves in departure as Emma hurries back to her car. She hasn’t mastered the poofing aspect of magic yet that Regina is so skilled at, and has to drive over to the cemetery instead. When she arrives at Regina’s vault, now more than twenty minutes late, the woman herself is waiting for her with a scowl and dark eyes barely flicking up over the book she’s reading.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I was with Killian, and I lost track of time –”

Regina snorts, rolling her eyes as she clamps the book shut. “Say no more, I should have known you were with the pirate.”

Emma glares at her, her temper flaring at the other woman’s sour tone. “I’d be on time if you taught me how to do that ‘poofing’ thing you’re always doing.”

“Teleportation,” Regina corrects sternly, “is a highly advanced skill. To be able to move yourself from one location to the other requires a basic understanding of summoning and conjuration first, and you, Ms. Swan, cannot even do that.”

“Then let’s do that. Teach me how to summon objects or whatever.”

Regina looks mildly annoyed, and she sighs dramatically. “I had planned something else for today, but perhaps learning something you are actually interested in for a change will be more productive than our usual lessons.” Emma rolls her eyes, but Regina doesn’t even notice. She rises to her feet, snapping the book she was reading shut, and continues, “I need to fetch another few books from my office. I’ll be right back.”

As if to spite her, she disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

It soon becomes apparent that Regina is going to take her sweet time to get those books, so Emma decides to poke around the vault in her absence. She’s not supposed to, she knows, but this place has always both fascinated and repulsed her; she can feel the darkness emanating from the shelves and boxes, as if a shadow lurks in between each book and object, whispering and calling out to her.

And try as she might to ignore the items around her, an item on one of the shelves near the door catches her eye. At first glance, Emma thinks it may be a music box, small and made of smooth black wood, with delicately carved hearts raised against the smooth wooden surface and closed shut with a heart shaped clasp. Emma knows better than to touch anything in this cursed vault, but a strange sense has come over her at the sight of the strange little box, and she finds herself unable and unwilling to stop herself. She moves closer and opens the small box, the clasp cold in her fingers.

It’s not a music box; inside, resting on a dark purple bed of velvet, is a pulsating violet crystal, about the size of her fist. It seems to glow brighter the longer she looks at it, and Emma reaches out to touch it, wondering what it is and what it could do –

“Don’t touch that!”

She jumps back at Regina’s voice, and Regina stalks over to her, shaking her head.

“You’re like a misbehaving child,” she mutters, picking up the box and casting a derisive look at Emma. “Disobeying rules just for the fun of it.”

Emma glares at her, but her eyes trace the box as Regina crosses the vault with it, holding it at arm’s length. The crystal is glowing darker at Regina's touch, a dark tendril of smoke beginning to circle within it.

“What is that thing?” she asks, too curious to stop herself.

“It was my mother’s,” Regina replies shortly, placing the small box on a nearby ledge, closing the lid over the pulsating crystal. The air to the room changes instantly, a heaviness Emma hadn’t noticed evaporating, and she shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Now when she looks at the box, her admiration and curiosity has faded into suspicion.

“I don’t know what it does,” Regina continues, answering Emma’s unasked question. “But probably nothing good, knowing her.”

Emma silently agrees, and she runs her hand up her arm to dispel the chill.

“Alright, let’s get on with this then.”

Regina returned with three books from her office, and as Emma browses through one of them, she begins this lesson with a lecture about how this summoning magic stuff works. Or rather, the art of summoning, as she calls it.

Emma doesn’t understand half of what she’s saying, but she gets the gist – calling things towards you requires you to visualize both the object’s current location and where you want it to go at the same time, with equal intensity of each location. You have to consider the weight and size of the object you want to transport, the distance you want it to travel, the properties of the object itself, like whether it’s a solid or liquid or even another person, otherwise it could all go wrong.

That last point about transporting people makes her wonder if they could use something like this to free the fairies. Would it possible that she could she call them towards herself, free of the hat’s reach? Though perhaps not –the hat absorbs magic. Maybe that wouldn’t work as it would only absorb that magic? She’ll have to tell Belle and Killian, see what they think. It might be a new lead, and even that might be enough to break Killian out of this funk –

Regina lets out an exasperated sigh, dropping her hands heavily onto the raised table between them, and Emma jumps in surprise.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Regina rolls her eyes, unamused. “You. You’re not even listening.”

And though she’d just been thinking about the fairies, and her cheeks start to burn, Emma shakes her head firmly.

“No, I was! This is – this is just hard to understand.” At Regina’s continued unimpressed expression, Emma sighs. “Well, okay, I was thinking … do you think … could we use something like this summoning stuff to save the fairies from the Sorcerer’s Hat?”

Instead of answering her question, Regina sighs angrily and lets out a scathing scoff. “No wonder you’re distracted. You’re supposed to be learning magic, not daydreaming about the pirate!”

“I’m not daydreaming,” Emma snaps, her temper flaring at Regina’s tone. “I’m concerned for him, Regina. He’s really upset over the fairies still being trapped in that hat, and if this is something that could help –”

“Well, he did put them there.”

Her blunt tone, her absolute lack of tact and empathy; Emma’s anger at Regina’s miserable attitude for the past couple of weeks finally bubbles over, and she shouts, “Gold had his heart, Regina! They are at the mercy of whoever controls them! You of all people should know exactly what it’s like to not have control over yourself when someone else is literally holding your heart in their hands!”

And at that, while it’s not often that Emma gets a glimpse of the Evil Queen, there she is, glaring back at Emma with a cold ferocity. But Regina’s indignance only makes Emma’s annoyance and anger heighten; she could care less at this point how Regina feels about being called out for her past actions (after all, she deserves it, at the very least), and she glares at the other woman furiously.

“This is a waste of time,” Regina spits out, beginning to gather up the books she’d laid out, her voice as cold as ice. “Magic is tied to emotion, and if you can’t get yours under control, then we aren’t going to get anywhere. Come back when you’re ready.”

Emma puts her hand down firmly on the last book, and shakes her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “No. I want to learn how to summon the objects.” I want to be able to help Killian and the fairies.

She doesn’t say the last bit, but Regina seems to hear it all the same, and she sighs sourly. “Fine, let’s give it a go. But if you can’t get this right, we’re done for today.” Emma nods curtly, and Regina moves to lean back against the far wall, picking up and holding an unlit candle in her hand. “Summon this candle, if you can.”

Emma takes a deep breath. Though her mind is swimming with anger, she tries to do all she’s supposed to – visualizes the candle in front of her, evaluates its weight and size, sees it coming to land in front of her on the table, but Regina’s right. She’s never been very good at controlling her magic when her emotions are haywire, and perhaps it’s a mix of concern for Killian and annoyance at Regina, but it all seems to go wrong.

Instead of the candle appearing in front of her like she’s trying to do, a strong wind picks up in the vault, blowing around loose papers and flickering the lit torches on the wall.

“What are you doing?” Regina demands. “I said summon a candle to yourself, not start a windstorm!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Emma closes her eyes, willing the wind to re-settle, trying to settle herself enough to get control back, but it’s no use. “I’m trying to stop it!”

“Then stop it!”

But it’s too late. The whipping wind only picks up in tempo the harder Emma tries to stop it. She tries to ignore it, tries to focus on stopping it, but when Regina yells out in alarm, Emma opens her eyes again, just in time to see the small box she’d been scolded about earlier falling to the floor from its place on the shelf.

The lid pops open as it falls, and when the box hits the ground, the elaborate purple crystal tumbles out and smashes into a thousand pieces. Instantly, a thin plume of amethyst smoke rises from each individual piece of crystal, each column colluding together to form an ever-growing cloud. Emma watches in horror as the cloud, filling with sparks of lightning, crackles as it gets bigger and bigger, twisting from the wind she’d inadvertently created to create a pulsating, dark tornado that fills the entire crypt.

Regina shrieks in alarm again, and Emma scrambles back, but there’s nowhere to hide from the tornado and she nearly gags as the cloud overcomes her. It’s bitter and cold, like drawing in a deep breath on an icy day, mixed with a harsh acrid tang that burns through her senses and makes her want to be sick. Emma has spent enough time around magic the last year or so and she recognizes what it is with a horrifying lurch of her stomach – dark magic.

She can’t see Regina anymore, the smoke having totally filled the crypt now, and she shouts for her to get to the door. Her voice is swallowed by the roaring wind, her throat burning as she inhales more of the toxic cloud, and she attempts to escape the vault herself, wading through the cloud as best she can. But she hardly gets three steps before her vision goes entirely black, the cloud overtaking her, her mind starting to fade into a lull of blackness as the smoke twists around her, howling and screaming as loud as a train’s whistle.

Then Emma sees nothing but darkness.

xxxx

As quickly as she fell into the darkness, Emma jolts awake with a start, eyes burning from the remnants of the poisonous cloud. Her heart is racing a million miles a minute, her body pulsing with adrenaline, her eyes roving over her surroundings. She’s somehow ended up flat on her back, staring up at rough wooden ceiling. For a wild moment, she thinks that nothing happened. Perhaps the spell or curse or whatever it was just had to burn itself out.

But then she realizes – Regina’s vault is made of stone, not wood.

Emma sits up quickly, her head swimming as she takes in her surroundings. She’s no longer in the vault, but instead in a cramped bedroom, old wooden walls all around her. She’s now sitting on the single, lumpy bed beside a window, through which bright light filters through a thin cotton curtain. There’s a rickety chair beside the door, and a small table is beside the bed, with a half-burnt candle and a handful of gold coins splattered around it.

Yep, definitely not in Regina’s vault anymore. There’s only one answer to waking up in a place that looks like it could’ve been a set for the Lord of the Rings or some other high fantasy movie – she’s back in the Enchanted Forest.

Emma groans.

Seriously?

After cursing Cora and her dark spells to hell and back, Emma gets down to business and sets about trying to figure out what’s gone on here. She rises and pockets the gold coins from the table, before opening the small door and venturing out of her room. It opens into a narrow corridor, with a large room with drifting laughter and noise at the other end which turns out to be a tavern. It’s crowded, and no one looks familiar at all, until Emma spots the woman cleaning several glasses behind the bar.

“Granny!”

Granny glances over to Emma, and nods at her in greeting, leaning on the bar and looking her up and down. “Ah, you’re up! You looked half-dead when you arrived here last night; wasn’t sure if you’d wake up again.”

Emma strides over to the bar, delighted that she’s found a familiar face so early. Things are already going much better than the other times she’s been back in the Enchanted Forest, where it was either a refugee camp with Mulan and Aurora or in the depths of the past with Hook.

“Granny, I am so glad to see you! I’m sorry about this whole mess, I must’ve unleashed a spell to send us all back here. I’m gonna find us a way back to Storybrooke as quick as I can, so –”

“Huh? What are you on about?”

Emma’s voice trails off. Granny is staring at her, confused and suspicious, and as quickly as her joy hit her at the sight of Granny, Emma’s heart now sinks.

“I – don’t you remember Storybrooke?”

“Remember what?” Granny quizzes, setting her cloth down at the counter and peering at Emma with narrowed eyes. “And did you say something about a spell?”

Of course, it couldn’t be this easy.

“No,” Emma says hurriedly, not sure if Granny would care or not about her magic, but not wanting to risk it with the dark look she’s just been given. “No, I misspoke. I, uh –”

Emma’s voice catches in her throat then as she catches sight of a WANTED poster hanging behind the bar. A crude drawing of her own face stares back at her, a caption proclaiming: Emma, daughter of Snow White. WANTED, dead or alive on Queen Regina’s authority.

Great, just great.

“You alright there, girl?” Granny questions, and Emma shakes herself, forcing herself to smile pleasantly.

“Yes. I’m fine. I just – never mind. I’ll just be – how much do I owe you for the night?”

While Granny moves away to calculate the bill, her eyes still narrowed in suspicion, Emma grits her teeth to calm the growing sense of panic. She’s only met Granny so far, but Emma knows curses cast by the Mills women; memory charms are their standard. If Granny doesn’t know who she is, Emma doubts anyone else will remember her either.

But, Emma reasons, she’s been in this situation before: thrown into the Enchanted Forest where no one knows her and she managed to find her way out of it. Two times, in fact. This one should be absolutely no different.

Except both of those times, she wasn’t alone. Both of those times she, in one way or another, had Killian. So maybe she can find him here too.

Granny returns with the bill, and Emma balks at the cost. She only has a handful of gold coins, but the night she doesn’t remember costs her nearly half of them. Granny is still watching her closely, so Emma thanks her for the room and hurries out of the tavern.

Thankfully, whatever this curse has done, it at least had the grace to drop her in a seaside city so her search for Killian isn’t going to be as challenging, or so she hopes.

The inn is directly across from a bustling harbour, full of large sailing ships like the Jolly Roger and a scattering of fishing vessels. There’s no obvious sign of the Jolly Roger in the harbour, and the old man serving as harbourmaster gives her a strange look as she asks, probably questioning her sanity for wanting to know where a pirate such as Captain Hook is. He’s unhelpful at first, and it’s only when Emma presses two of her remaining gold coins into his palm that he confirms that there was a pirate by that name who sometimes visited the town, but that he hadn’t been there for over a year and it was unlikely he’d back anytime soon.

Disheartened, Emma settles onto a bench near the docks to gather her thoughts. If Killian isn’t around, well that’s not the end of the world. She could perhaps seek information out about Mary Margaret, David, and Henry. The poster mentioned Snow White and Prince Charming, so surely they would be here too somewhere. And this is Cora’s curse; Emma bets that this is somehow designed to give Regina some sort of victorious moment, and no victory to Regina would be complete without Henry at her side.

“Hey!”

Emma looks up, startled from her thoughts. A fisherman is staring at her from across the dock, his eyes narrowed as if trying to place her face from where he’s seen it before, and Emma curses just as the realization hits the man.

“It’s her – it’s the princess!”

She jumps to her feet and starts running, back into the depths of the town as the fisherman stirs up more people’s notice. She has no idea where she’s going, but she just knows she needs to avoid the heavy footfalls that are beginning to track her.

“This way!”

“I swear it, it’s Snow’s daughter!”

“Get the guards! The Queen wants her!”

Emma ducks in and out of alleyways as she comes across them, taking a page out of her old bail bonds targets from years ago now. But she’s usually the one chasing the runaway, and in an unfamiliar town as this, Emma turns onto a dead-end street, with no way out but the way she came.

“There she is!”

Adrenaline pulsing through her veins, Emma considers her options. She won’t be able to fight her way free from this one, not with the number of people now approaching her. But Emma, unlike her bail bonds targets of old, has an advantage. They couldn’t use magic to escape from a dead end street, but maybe she can.

Though she’s never attempted the poofing magic before and hearing Regina’s voice in her ear proclaiming it to be advanced magic, there’s no time to try it like being chased by money-hungry locals who may take the wanted, dead or alive, part a bit too seriously.

Ignoring that the last time she tried to do something like this, she accidently set off a curse that erased memories and banished her to the Enchanted Forest, Emma takes a deep breath, pushing out the sounds of the approaching townsfolk. Teleporting should be the opposite of what she was trying to do with the candle, right? She should be able to send herself somewhere else, instead of bringing something to her.

And she knows exactly where she wants to go.

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, imagining every aspect of Killian she can imagine. His blue eyes, his tousled hair, his leather jacket, his ever-present flask of rum, the tattoo on his arm, the warmth of his smile, the feel of his touch, the taste of his kiss.

The approaching footfalls and shouts vanish, replaced instantly with the creaking of wooden beams, crashing waves, chattering seagulls. Emma’s eyes fly open and instead of the dead end alley, she is standing on the oak timbers of the Jolly Roger, sparkling blue sea all around, an even bluer sky overhead visible through the riggings and between the soaring sails.

She did it – she did it!

Her exuberance quickly fades as she takes in the scene around her. The Jolly Roger had been bustling with people hard at work, but now everyone is staring at her, shocked and bewildered. Several of them draw weapons, suspicion and fright clouding their eyes, stalking towards her with swords pointed directly at her.

“What the hell are you doing on my ship?”

Emma whirls around. Standing before her, dressed in his full pirate regalia with the heavy leather jacket and red vest, is Killian. His sword is drawn like most of his crew, pointed at her, but that’s not the most upsetting thing about this situation – he’s staring at her with no recognition in his eyes.

Emma’s heart sinks. She should have expected this – like Granny, Killian doesn’t recognize her either. Though this time, while it had been disappointing Granny didn’t know her, to see Killian stare at her like he has never seen her before in his life … well, it hurts more than she ever thought it would.

“I – I, uh –”

“Who are you?” he demands, stepping forwards. His sword is now nearly touching her, close enough to make her take an automatic step back. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m – I’m Emma,” she says, deciding on the spur of the moment to go with the truth, watching him carefully for any sign of recognition. “I – I was looking for help.”

His eyes narrow, but he does lower his sword, tilting his head to look closer at her.

“Help?” he repeats, and then a slow, reassuring smile appears on his features. Emma, used to this side of him, relaxes automatically, but that was her first mistake – Killian Jones may wear a reassuring smile in an expression of sincerity to her, but to Captain Hook, when he doesn’t know her and only knows that she’s appeared out of thin air on his ship, it’s only a false assurance meant to set her at ease.

He moves so fast, Emma’s not even sure how he manages to do it. One moment, she’s standing in the middle of the deck, pirates all around, the next both her arms are held firmly behind her back with the curve of Killian’s hook, her entire body contorted as he twists her to press a sharp dagger her throat.

Seriously?

Emma is distinctly reminded of the time she did this to him – back when she first met him, when he was working for Cora and lying to them about his true identity. She’d been the one pressing the dagger against his throat, questioning his appearance in the camp in impossible circumstances, disbelieving his true intentions.

She supposes this must be the universe’s version of karma.

“Well, dear Emma,” Killian says softly, though his voice is the opposite of a caress. “Unfortunately, you’ve come to the wrong person for help.” He pushes her away, hard enough that she stumbles right into the grip of two crewmembers, and he commands, voice cold, “Take her to the brig.”

“No, wait!” Emma shouts, but Killian is already turning away, returning to the helm of the ship. “Please, I need your help!”

He doesn’t turn around again, and the crew laugh and guffaw at her as the two who have a grip on her arms pull her down into the depths of the ship. Though Emma struggles against them, their grips are bruising, and she can’t get free of them. They haul her into an area of the Jolly Roger that she hasn’t been in before, and half-throw her into the cell, locking the barred door firmly behind her. They disappear quickly back to up to the deck with final terrified looks sent her way, leaving her alone in the damp, dimly lit cell.

Emma lets out a deep sigh, dropping to the floor and leaning her head against the rough wooden walls of the cell. Killian has no idea who she is, clearly mistrusts her, and now she’s been thrown into the brig of his ship while out in the middle of the ocean – how the hell is she supposed to get out of this one?

#captain swan #ouat #cs ff #two shot #this i started a long time ago #but finally finished it!#woot for me #fic: the art of summoning

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