#mediocre writing at best

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 1

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 1

Warnings and such: mentions of bl00d, !death, death of family member, alcohol/drunkenness ,illusions to caññabilism...i think that's it for this part?

A/N: you can't tell me Timothée doesn't radiate this kind of chaotic energy 24/7! He was absolutely perfect for this movie! Thank you for coming to my TedTalk!

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My mother was what she called an “eater,” because I guess calling her a cannibal was wrong. There was a difference, apparently, of which the latter she was not. You could have fooled me. I’ve known for a while, probably my whole life, but to me, that was normal. Normal for her anyway. I had never met another “eater,” at least not that I knew of, but would I know if I had anyway? 

She never partook in the activity in the house, but more often than not she came home before she was ready to, covered in blood. Admittedly, it freaked me out to realize how quickly that stopped bothering me…but of course, not as much as discovering what she was doing a few times a month. What bothered me the most is that she came home, cleaned herself up, and carried on with life as if nothing happened. As I got older, I became more wary of her, something that I think she picked up on all too quickly. It drove a wedge in our once perfect relationship, but I wouldn’t consider it a loss.

The idea toyed in her head, for a while- she thought I was a “late bloomer” or that I just needed to “find the feeling,” but whatever it was that caused her to be this way, it must not have been passed along to me. If that’s how someone became an “eater.” It made me wonder where it all started, but then again, maybe I don’t want to know. All I do know is that she left when I was 18, and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since. My dad was long gone and I had no siblings. Maybe my dad knew, and maybe I wasn’t even supposed to happen…oh well, no sense in dreading about it now. I had no complaints. No regrets.

I knew the signs of an eater, or at least the ones that made my mother stand out in a crowd, but I still wasn’t sure if I would be able to pick one out of a line up unless they had blood all over their face. I resolved to just be by myself, to always watch my back and never put a lot of trust in anyone. It was all easy, really. I wasn’t allowed to have friends as a child, understandably so, and because of that I was fine to be by myself. I didn’t know any different.

As my 20th birthday approached, the body of a woman surfaced near the lake. It was a lot to take in, in a small town, but I knew. I knew that it was my mother, and I knew that it wasn’t an animal who had found her body before some local fishermen. There was another eater, somewhere, and suddenly I didn’t feel safe. What if they came after me? I am half my mother, eater or not. I packed a bag and left with a full tank of gas and all the money I had been saving for almost 6 years. I didn’t dare look back. 

That was almost a year ago now. My 21st birthday was at the end of the summer and I had already driven across the country and back once. I was stuck somewhere between not wanting to settle down somewhere, and being too afraid to. I had no family elsewhere, at least not that I knew of, so there wasn’t anything grounding me to one specific spot. The life of a nomad was starting to grow on me! I found myself in Indiana, at the dumpiest ‘grocery store’ I had ever been in, which was saying a lot because I’ve seen some pretty deplorable places on my travels. 

“What kind of store runs out of lunchables?!”

There was a very intoxicated man wandering the store, drinking a 6 pack of cheap beer that I can only assume he hadn’t paid for. The store attendants didn’t even bat an eyelash at him, apparently this was a regular thing. I was at the end of the aisle he had just strolled down, looking at the bare bone essentials that were strewed about the shelves.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, you dumb bitch-”

A woman with a small child had asked to get by him on her way to the checkout lines. I wasn’t the only one watching him- a boy, about my age, had been following him around the store for a while now. I couldn’t tell if they were together or not, but the younger one seemed highly irritated with the antics.

“Hey!” He called, standing behind me. “You’re out of control, buddy.” Okay, so maybe they aren’t together. 

“You with the store or something?”

“No, I’m not with the store. But I’m going to escort you out of it.”

“Oh you are?” 

“Watch this,” the younger boy whispered as he stepped around me. 

He had a shit eating grin plastered to his face, as if he was waiting for this moment. He turned to the drunk man, smiled at him and without an ounce of hesitation, headbutted him. Hard. I could hear it break his nose. Blood began to seep down his face before he realized what had happened. The drunk threw an otherwise poorly calculated swing, but missed by a mile or more.

“Outside, you fucker!”

“You want to go outside? We can go outside! Let’s go outside!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you little asshole!”

“Is this how you spend your Saturdays? Harassing innocent people after you spend the morning jerking off…”

Their voices trailed off as the door closed behind them. I watched them chase each other around the parking lot for a moment before stepping out of view and behind the store. That was the most excitement I had seen in a long time! 

I made my purchases and used the microwave behind the counter to makeshift something for dinner. What I wouldn’t give for a real kitchen! It was nearly dark when I finally left, and there was no sign of the two men from earlier. I could only hope they sorted out their differences and everyone left without incident. 

I was crossing the parking lot to my truck when I noticed something someone, crawling out the window frame of an abandoned building a few yards away. It was the younger guy from earlier. His shirt was torn and he looked at me before doubling over. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, but could hear the distinct crinkle of a plastic water bottle and as he approached, I could see it- blood! A lot of fucking blood. I knew instantly what he was; his face and chest was smeared the same way I had seen my mother’s many times before. Despite his best efforts to apparently clean himself, the evidence was everywhere. I didn’t know rather to run or scream or-

“He’s back there, if you want to..” He nodded back towards the building, walking past me without batting an eyelash in my direction. Maybe they only “ate” once? Do they get full? They have to, right?

“No! No I don’t- I’m not a…No!” He stopped and looked me up and down. 

“Could have fooled me. You smell like one.”

“One what?” I hesitated, trying to keep the distance between us. 

“You tell me. You seem to know.”

“I’m not.”

“So you’ve said.”

“What do you mean ‘I smell like one?’”

“An eater. Eaters can smell other eaters. Usually.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I’m not a…a eater.” 

“Okay. Well, sorry.” He smiled, and I could see his blood stained teeth. Somehow, even in this moment, I wasn’t phased. “I’m gonna just…I’m gonna go now.” 

There was something about him…something that I couldn’t put a finger on, or take my eyes off of. He seemed…different? I only had my mother to compare him to, but there was still something. I watched him circle the parking lot, staring at the keys in his hand. Whatever he was trying to find must not have belonged to him. Wait was he-

“You can’t just steal his truck!” I laughed nervously, watching him climb in and start digging around. 

“What good is it to him now?” He turned the key over and tried to start it, groaning. “There’s no gas in it anyway.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t-”

“Will you drive me somewhere?”

“No! I don’t even know you!”

He jumped out of the truck, a piece of paper and a few dollars in his hand. He smiled, wiping his spare hand on his pant leg before extending it to me.

“Sorry, I’m Lee.”

“Lee?”

“Lee. No last name.” I looked at him for a minute, his smile never fading.

“Grace. Or Gracie.” 

“First and last?” He chuckled and whatever it was about him made me smile, even if I didn’t want to. ‘Don’t trust people’ I reminded myself.

“Look,” he continued. “You could have convinced me you were an eater, like I said, you smell like one. And if you’re really not, hey that's cool too! But eaters don’t eat eaters, so I’ll treat you like one if you’ll just drive me…” he looked at the paper and spun around in a small circle before pointing in some opposite direction. “If you’ll drive me like 15 minutes that way? Please?”

I tried to weigh my options, the risks I was taking by giving in, but there it was again, that thing that was different about him. Whatever it is, it was telling me to just give him the ride. I could leave him there and never have to see him again if the next 15 minutes gave me any inclination that Lee couldn’t be trusted. 

“Okay,” I sighed, pointing him towards my own truck a few spots over. “But if you try to-”

“Cross my heart I won't!”

We hopped in and he gave me directions. He was quiet, domestic really…not something I would have expected from one of them. He just sat there, like nothing had happened. I couldn’t help but eye him the whole way, and he definitely knew, but didn’t say anything. It was almost a comforting silence, something I don’t recall ever experiencing in my life before now. 

Eventually, we made it. The house was dilapidated, not cared for in the slightest- it smelled of weed and alcohol from the driveway. A bachelor pad if I had ever seen one before. The lights were off, though I may have died of shock if anyone else was living there. 

“Thank you,” Lee smiled, hopping out of the car and coming over to my side. “Unless, I mean, do you want to come in?” He said it so calmly, like it was his own house! 

“I umm…” 

“I promised I wouldn’t bite, remember!”

That feeling returned, consuming my body. It’s fine, just go with him. Something inside me was screaming, I didn’t know if it was my brain, my heart, or my stomach, but none of them were arguing with whichever one was screaming. Maybe this is how I die! Only one way to find out…

I sighed, hopping out of the truck and following him into the house. The inside was somehow worse than the outside- I didn’t even think that was possible. Lee, however, seemed to be in love! He instantly started digging though the man’s collection of music, staring wildly at the raunchy posters on the wall. 

Lee let out an excited noise when he pulled a record from the crate, throwing it on the player. The music blared horribly loud, causing both of us to jump out of our skins.

“Fuck!” He yelled, turning it down quickly. The smile soon returned to his face and he began jumping around the room, singing and dancing erratically.

It was almost euphoric to watch. So I did- I just watched him. I watched him for a few minutes, my eyes following him as he jumped off the couch, landing in front of a very dirty mirror. He leaned in close, singing to his reflection until he caught sight of the state he was in. There was still blood smeared down his chin and throat, the rest was hidden behind his t-shirt. The smile dropped from his face and in its place…embarrassment?

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” I nodded and watched as he disappeared down the hallway. 

Last chance to leave.

No, I think I’m going to stay. 

Lee emerged a while later and asked if I wanted a turn in the bathroom. Again, this seemed so normal to him- he acted like this was his house. He must do this every time he…eats. A real shower sounded too inviting, no matter how gross the bathroom may be. 

With the endless supply of hot water, I’m not sure how long I was in there. A small part of me almost expected the boy to be gone when I was finished, but he wasn’t. I followed the sound of the television and found him sitting in front of it, laughing along to whatever way playing, a cigarette in hand. Domestic. 

I cleared my throat, not knowing what else to do. 

“Oh, hey!” He jumped up. “Do you want to watch something? I think there’s a few more channels on here…”

“No, that's okay. I might actually go to bed…if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all! Take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.” He pointed towards the back of the house. “It's just back there…on the left.”

I felt like I was supposed to say something, to thank him, maybe? But whatever it was, I couldn’t find it. I just looked at him, probably for too long. He began to rock back and forth on the balls of his heels, looking around the room and smiling awkwardly everytime his eyes met mine. 

“Goodnight, Lee.” I finally mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Night, Gracie!” I heard him plop back down on the floor as I headed towards the bedroom.

Weirdest. Day. Ever.

******

I hardly slept last night. Part of me was scared I’d wake up to Lee standing over me, or that the guy whose house we were in was going to come back, or that a neighbor called the cops after seeing us come in or-

*knock* *knock* 

“Gracie, you awake?”

I sat up boltright. “Yeah, it’s open.”

No, you idiot! That’s not what he asked!

Lee opened the door awkwardly and stuck an arm through the crack, offering me a cup of coffee. Domestic!

“I’m not sure how you take it, but your only option is black or Irish, but you know, that’s still black.” I chuckled, opening the door further and taking the cup from him. His head was turned, not daring to look in the room. 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” 

There was an awkward silence. Lee still hadn't turned around. 

“Can I ask you something?” I finally found the courage to speak.

“Shoot.”

“This is normal for you, isn’t it?” 

“Was that the question, or a statement?”

I groaned, walking back over to the bed. Lee hesitantly peered around the corner, not daring to enter the room any further. 

“Sorry,” He chuckled nervously, taking a sip of coffee. “But yeah, I guess this is normal? Are you referring to the whole,” He made an exaggerated chewing motion, teeth clicking together audibly. “Thing or?”

“That. Yes. But I assumed that was normal for you. It was normal for my mother, anyway. But I was referring to the whole ‘making yourself at home’ type of thing.”

“Your mother?!” I just looked at him, waiting for an answer to the second part of the question- the actual question. “Umm. I mean, everyone’s got their own rules, I guess. I don’t see any harm in staying a night or two. It’s not like he’s going to need it.” 

We sat silently, sipping shitty coffee and stealing glances at each other. The comfortable silence settling over us once again.

“If you’re not from around here, where are you from? And where are you going?”

“Kentucky,” he smiled, looking like he was reminiscing. “Got family there, sort of...but I’m not sure where I’m going…I don’t ever really know. I just…go. What about you?”

“I’m from New York-”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah. But there’s nothing left there for me so I’m making my way back across the country.” I shrugged, the idea didn’t seem so crazy to me as it once did. 

“I’m sorry, back?!”

“I’ve been on the road for almost a year.” 

“That sounds awesome! You’ll have to tell me about it…sometime.” The smile on his face faded slightly as he stared at the contents of the mug in his hand.

Is this where we were supposed to part ways? It didn’t feel right to get back in the truck and leave him, but taking him with me? That sounded just as weird. I’ve never been conflicted over the…wellbeing? Of another person? Is that what this was called? 

Hypothetically, I thought to myself. What would be the harm in asking him to come along? What was stopping me from dumping him on the side of the road somewhere if he pissed me off or tried to bite or whatever else could possibly happen. He wasn’t tied to anywhere either, not really anyway. He had been doing things his way for who knows how long, clearly he could take care of himself. He seemed to be doing a better job at it than me, actually. And the odds of ever running into him again? There was something about him that wasn’t…scary. Maybe it was the pink hair! 

“I’ll tell you.” I smiled, finishing the coffee. “You drive. I’ll talk.” 

“What?”

“Unless you have other plans-”

“No!” Lee said, rather quickly. “Are, are you offering to take me with you?” He sounded less sure of himself as the sentence dragged on.

“IF,” I barked, standing up and sticking a pinky in his face. “You keep your promise!”

“Cross my heart.” He smiled, drawing an ‘X’ over his chest before hooking his pinky with mine. 

[diamondzart]

DID “DESPICABLE ME 4” TRAILER LEAVE YOU DISAPPOINTED? There’s a solution! :D

My very good friend @annchanorsomethin writes THIS AMAZING FIC on AO3 for over a year already! I am following it since November 2022 and let me tell ya, I wish this was the way Illumination treated their canon. I don’t think this amount of planning went into the real DM4, judging from the trailer…

And for those of you who were upset about the absence of Dr Nefario and Dru, this fic has you covered, believe me 😏

SUMMARY:

After Balthazar Bratt's defeat, everything seems to go better than ever: Gru and Lucy are back working for the AVL and Gru's overly enthusiastic brother, Dru is the new bad guy in town... or is he? The illusion of everything going so well fades, as the past comes back to haunt the family, threatening to destroy them once and for all... If it wasn't for the most passionate of the family doing everything in their power to protect what they love most - even if it means to step over the bounds of time and space itself.

Rated M for possible graphic depictions of violence in the future (though for now it stays in PG, I think). Features Professor Rott as the main antagonist – the original character inspired by early concept arts for Gru from late 2000s, the idea and design of Rott belong to @elitadream

This post also features original concept art made by me, styled to mimic Eric Guillon’s (official concept artist from Illumination) style, so it looks more like a real DM4 concept. I really, really hope this story will find more followers, because it totally deserves them! For now there are 11 chapters, and there will be more!

[astroselene]

no need for a hiding place

in which Sirius has to almost die before he realises he might deserve love, after all. pairing: sirius black x reader words: 1.5k tw: brief mention of blood, hospital setting a/n: because we all know sirius isn't really dead :)

-------------------------------------------------------- The hum from the machines attached to Sirius’s unconscious body was even as you dozed by his bed, your head propped on your arms. Between fits of restless sleep, you could hear nurses rushing down the corridors of St. Mungo’s and bits of conversation here and there outside Sirius’s room. It had been two days since you had faced the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries, Sirius coming out barely alive and rushed straight to the hospital. You hadn’t left his side since.

You brain kept replaying the events from the scene of the intense battle, curses flying everywhere, sometimes not knowing whether you had hit a friend or foe. Then suddenly there’d been a rushing sound as a curse had flown past your ear, and you had watched with horror as it hit Sirius straight on his left side. It was like everything had happened in slow motion as he’d fallen to the ground. You were certain you had lost him as you fought your way to him, dread filling your heart as you took a look at him on the stone floor. There had been blood oozing out of a deep wound from his side and he was lying at an odd angle, looking like a rag doll.

All you’d been thinking when he fell to the ground in front of the veil that if he died now, you’d never forgive yourself for not telling him how you felt.

You squeezed his hand on the hospital bed, reminding yourself that he was fine and still here, as relief kept washing over you.

Joining the Order of the Phoenix a year ago, you of course knew who Sirius Black was. Like the rest of the wizarding world, you thought he had committed the murders he had been imprisoned for almost 15 years ago now. You had been recruited to the Order by an old school friend, burning at the chance to do your part to in the resistance against You Know Who. Thus, you were rolled into the ranks, first on the outskirts of the Order, moving towards the inner circles after proving your value for having a lot of useful connections in the muggle world. Your muggle job also made for a good cover for protecting yourself.

You had met Sirius Black at the headquarters, his childhood home, now knowing the truth about him. Against all your better judgement and the logic you prided yourself on, you had at some point come to the realisation that you’d fallen hopelessly in love with him. You had tried telling yourself he was not exactly the knight in shining armour of every girl’s dreams - he was practically prisoner in his old home, still a wanted criminal in the eyes of the law and most likely not in the mental headspace for any kind of romance.

Your heart didn’t seem to care about all of these logical trivialities though. Instead, you found yourself laughing at his witty remarks, looking for ways to get to know him better and spending increasingly more time at the headquarters. One day you noticed that between you two there had developed a feeling of mutual trust and respect, even admiration, at least on your part. Sirius confided in you about his hatred for having to stay in the house that represented everything he despised now. He told you funny tales from his school days, and talked with warmth about the Potters and his old friends, and with coldness about his family. He never talked about his days in Azkaban and you never asked. He seemed to respect the fact that you didn’t pressure him, and never judged him. You didn’t let your previous misconceptions about him get in the way of getting to know the real him – the brave, thoughtful and intelligent man you had fallen hard and fast for.

And you wondered whether he felt the same – sometimes you caught him looking at you when he thought you couldn’t see. At first, he’d been in a hurry to turn his eyes away when you caught him, but lately something had changed. He maintained eye contact, even sought your eyes out with his own when there was an inside joke to be shared in the middle of a general conversation, and you could’ve sworn you kept seeing a playful glint in his deep grey eyes, reserved just for you. But you always told yourself you were imagining things because of your own feelings and naïve wishes.

Your fitful sleep was interrupted by a brush of fingers on your cheek. You slowly opened your eyes to see Sirius watching you through half lidded eyes.

“Hey you,” Sirius said. His voice sounded a little croaky.

“Sirius!” you gasped, feeling a rush of blood to your head for sitting up so quickly.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

You brushed Sirius’s hair away from his face. It had gotten longer again during his months at Grimmauld Place. He kept talking about cutting it but you loved how it framed his high cheekbones and the way he had to keep tucking it behind his ears.

“I’m alright,” Sirius said quietly. He frowned, “What happened? At the ministry, I was about to....“ he focused in the distance, trying to gather pieces of memories from his muddled brain.

“Everyone’s fine, Harry’s safe. The prophecy was destroyed,” you soothed him. “You got the worst of it. You’ve been out cold for two days.”

Sirus’s shoulders sagged with relief. He looked back up at you and you felt his fingers on your cheek again.

“What about you? Are you alright?” His voice was gentle.

“I’m okay. Now that you’re awake anyway,” you smiled at him.

Your fingers were still in his hair and you stopped breathing at the look on his face. He was so close, smiling a tired smile up at you.

“I should get the healer,” you said. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Sirius grabbed your arm, “have you been here the whole time?”

You felt heat rise on your cheeks. You weren’t actually sure he had wanted you there while he was unconscious, but you’d found you couldn’t leave his side either, not until you knew he was going to be okay. You were fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on Sirius’s bedsheet, your mind already going into overdrive, instinctually preparing for rejection.

“Well… yeah. I may have had to tell them I was your girlfriend, they wouldn’t have let me stay otherwise. ‘Family and close relations only’”, you huffed out an awkward laugh, “I’m sorry I said that, I shouldn’t have, I’m obviously not your girlfriend or anything, I just needed to…” you trailed off. “I just needed to know you were okay.”

You felt Sirius’s finger under your chin and he lifted your face to search your eyes with his.

“Would you like to be?” he asked quietly.

You blinked and thought your mouth must’ve been hanging open too, while you searched for your suddenly lost skill for speech.

“Would you like that?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he said simply, like it was a no-brainer.

And it really wasn’t, not to him. He had known for a long time how he felt for you, but not fully admitting it to himself. His heart squeezed at the thought of you sitting by his bed for the past days, waiting for him to wake up, being always so sweet to him, so kind and caring. He knew what little he had to offer in his situation wasn’t what you deserved, but seeing your eyes light up at his answer, your beautiful smile breaking out, made him believe that maybe it was possible for him to have happiness after all.

You sat up closer to Sirius, taking his handsome face in your hands. You leaned in and touched his lips softly with your own, and at that moment you knew all the worry of the past few days and months had been worth it, all your previous heartbreaks and hurts were soothed out right in that moment. You knew Sirius was what you had been waiting for.

Sirius moved his hand at the back of your head and pulled your face against his more insistently. He kissed you with determination, like a man on a mission to show all of his buried feelings for you in that moment. His tongue brushed your lower lip and you gasped, opening your mouth to get more of his taste, more of his kisses, more of him.

Sirius leaned back but only far enough to press his forehead against yours.

“Blimey,” he barked out a laugh, “haven’t done that in ages.”

You laughed with him against his lips. “Gotta make up for lost time then,” you said.

He pecked your lips and hummed, but it turned into a small wince when he shifted on the bed.

“Hey, stay still, I’ll get the healer. I have to let them know you’re awake,” you said, worried now. You didn’t want him tearing up his stitches. The wound had been closed magically but it wouldn’t keep if he kept moving a lot.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Sirius winked at you.

You reluctantly moved away from him, but now you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to spend the rest of his life showing you exactly how he felt, no longer needing to hide from anything or anyone.

[daffi-990]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✍️

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @diazheartsbuckley @actuallyitsellie @hippolotamus @smilingbuckley and @bekkachaos thank you friends for tagging me ❤️

Have a little something from the Buddie First Date WIP that is slowly being written (a few words here and there is better than nothing, right?)

Prev snippet here

"Here, let me," Eddie murmurs, gently taking the sunflowers from Buck's hand. Their fingers brush, sending sparks through Buck's body.

Which feels ridiculous because it’s not like they’ve never touched each other before. But now every brush of fingers, every bump of their shoulders and nudge of their knees, every small touch that didn’t seem like anything then, means everything now. Every touch means love and home and belonging and holds the promise of more.

Buck watches as Eddie carefully arranges the flowers in the vase, admiring the way his hands move with grace and ease. It strikes him how domestic this small moment feels, how right.

He can see the rest of his life play out before him, Eddie beside him through it all. Their future together is no longer just a distant dream or an unattainable fantasy that Buck longs for, its real and it’s happening right now. Buck has never felt more content, more at ease. He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

"Perfect." Eddie steps back, admiring his handiwork.

The bright yellow petals of the sunflowers seem to light up the entire loft, much like Eddie's presence lights up Buck's life.

“Perfect,” Buck agrees.

No pressure tagging @diazsdimples @theotherbuckley @beyourownanchor6 @disasterbuck @watchyourbuck @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @wellcollapse @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerweewoo @queerdiazs @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @sibylsleaves @steadfastsaturnsrings @glorious-spoon @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33 @honestlydarkprincess @kitteneddiediaz @lover-of-mine @captain-hen @missmagooglie @monsterrae1 @tizniz @inell and as always, anyone who has anything they want to share -> consider this your offical tag 🏷️

[autisticlenaluthor]

kinda sad bc I've never been more proud of my writing than I am of the fics I'm putting out right now. and they're the fics that nobody seems to be reading

[piepiepiemag]

Blown Cover

Montague (Fortnite) x !(GN)Reader

Summary: you're a silly spy, on a silly mission, getting caught by some silly french dude.

Tags from AO3: No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hostage Situations, Touch Starved Montague (Fortnite), Touched starved Reader, Codependency, Everyone in this fic has BPD, Whatever the opposite of a slow burn is, Proofread (but badly), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POC Friendly, Unhealthy Power Dynamics

The mission set out for you was by no means easy, but at least he instructions were simple enough. Enter the Grand Glacier Hotel. Get your hands on Montague’s relic. Return back to the agency.

You were sent out for a reason, your boss completely trusted that you could finish the job without a single problem, so the fact that you got caught while still on the first step of the plan was unbelievably embarrassing. You were by no means a rookie, but you definitely felt like one now.

This guy was too smart. All of his abilities way beyond yours. You practically lost the game the moment you decided to play it, and now there you were, captured in the vault below the hotel.

As you slowly came to, all you could see in the dimly lit room was the man in front of you, and the lustre of the artifact hanging from his neck. It was so close. If you could just reach out your hand and grab it, it would all be over.

But alas your hands were tightly bound behind your back. Same with your legs, making you sit in a somewhat uncomfortable position while leaning your back against the wall.

Your captor pulled out a chair from the far end of the room and brought it in front of you, sitting down in complete silence.

“Why did you come here?” - his voice was less intimidating than you expected it to be, it was almost soft, with a hint of a french accent. You just stared at him, wordless.

“What was the goal of your mission?” - he asked again, his face slowly contorting in frustration. You didn’t say anything. That’s what you were taught to do in a situation like this. Cooperation wasn’t your strong suit anyway. - “Did you come here for this?”

He motioned at the diamond relic but he was met with nothing once again.

Montague was getting increasingly fed up with your silence, pulling his pistol out of its holster and pointing it at your forehead. For a few seconds you still considered if answering would even be worth it, warranting him to dig the barrel of the gun deeper into your skin.

“Yes, for the artifact.” - you groaned, the sharp pain making it even harder to think. - “But I don’t know what it was for. I was never told.”

You lied without even a flinch of your face. You obviously knew what it was for. Even if your boss didn’t tell you, you could guess. It was an attempt to combat his curse. If it was as powerful as they said, then maybe the diamond relic would be able to help him control his golden touch.

You were willing to do anything in your power to help him. And look where that got you.

“Good job.” - he said as he withdrew his gun voice almost sultry. The sound of that made you feel kind of gross, but you had to consider if this could be your way out. Just maybe he would be low enough to fall for it.

“You know, i could do even better if you got these cuffs off of me..” - you batted your eyelashes as you whispered in a low tone, motioning at your hands behind your back.

He looked back at you, his face showing utter horror and disgust, like he was trying to say “How dare you even assume i would do something like that?” with just his eyes. He took a few seconds before regaining his composure.

“The Rules of War are a thing for a reason. Don’t even try.” - with that he got up from his chair and walked over to the desk at the far end of the room. Worth a try anyways.

He looked over all the things he had taken off of you. Guns, guns, more guns, your earpiece, phone, emergency med kit and various other items. Most of these have been taken apart while you were out cold, to see if they had any tracking devices inside of them. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them did. Montague left them on on purpose. He mused over them for a few more minutes before turning back towards you.

“Give your boss a call for me, will you?” - His voice sounded more threatening now, obviously not willing to take no for an answer. You didn’t even want to try. With your earpiece having been disassembled and laid out on his desk he had no choice but to grab your phone.

He grabbed it, then leisurely walked up to were you were sitting. He reached behind you in an attempt to activate the fingerprint lock but you stopped him.

“Won’t work. My fingers are fried” - you wiggled your hands for good measure as you sighed, recalling the pain of having your fingerprints permanently removed. The scars were ugly too but it is what it is. You were a spy after all. Things like that were necessary. Just a part of the job.

He thought about it only for a second before holding the phone in front of your face, activating the face id system. It unlocked without a hitch and he started scrolling through the contacts.

“Under M. He’s the only one.” - you said as he followed your instructions. He swiped his finger on the screen a few times before finally settling on the one he needed.

“Midass?” - He raised an eyebrow and you would have laughed if it wasn’t for your current predicament. You just nodded.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Agent?” - on the fourth beep he finally picked up, his voice echoing through the room.

“Midas-” - you gasped out instinctively, almost falling over as you struggled to get closer to the phone, like reaching it would save you. Never in your life would you have thought you'd be so happy to hear his voice. You quickly stopped in your tracks as you felt the cold barrel of his gun press against the back of your head, as if to signal “stay in your lane”.

“I have something dear to you. If you want it back, i’d suggest getting it yourself. Come alone and unarmed” - and with these simple instructions he hung up.

Shit. You should have know Montague didn’t want a ransom or anything superficial like that. Not only did you cause trouble for yourself but the agency and your boss too. You could only imagine the talk he would give you afterwards. Of course, you would have to return alive for that. And the chances of that were dropping lower and lower by the minute.

Would he even risk it to come and get you? Right now, you were as good as dead.

Montague glanced over the items on the desk again, eyes wandering to the rest of your gear on the floor, including your shoes. He turned his gaze towards you.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have been caught if you wore normal shoes.”

This fucking guy. Not only was this situation insanely humiliating, no, he also had to jab at the thing you’re the most sensitive about. Those platforms were an extension of you at this point. You had to beg Midas on three separate occasions to be able to wear them to missions, and now this pompous french fuck decided to roast them as well.

“Insecure I’m taller than you with them?” - a truly weak rebuttal left your mouth as you grumbled to yourself. He was already pretty tall, but you just couldn’t let this one go without saying anything back.

He let out something that almost resembled a genuine laugh, before turning on his heels and heading towards the door of the vault. Good riddance. His shoes looked even dumber than yours anyways.

“I’ll be back.” - with that he opened the door and two guards walked in, taking his place. He left to god knows where and now you were there with twice as many eyes on you. It would be stupid to try anything sneaky like this.

The guards were silent, not even chatting amongst themselves, and for a while you just sat around and watched them. They seemed even less willing to communicate than you, so not having anything better to do you slid down against the wall and closed your eyes. Whatever they used to knock you out with still lingered in your system, making you more tired than usual. Just a moment of rest won’t hurt.

The next morning you woke up to the loud creaking of the vault door, the reddish gold sunrise barely creeping into the dark room. In the doorway stood a figure that you could only barely make out, a tall man in a suit, and your heart almost skipped a beat.

Was he..?

Your hopes shattered just as quickly when he stepped closer.

It wasn’t Midas.

Without his long coat Montague’s silhouette looked eerily similar, but maybe it was just the weirdo rich guy aura they both exuded. Imposing, elegant in their every move. Heads up their own asses probably.

He was carrying something in his hand but you didn’t care to look at him any longer after that. You lowered your gaze to the floor as you turned your whole body to the side. The severity of your situation was quickly dawning on you.

It must have been at least 6 hours since the call was placed. If he hasn’t gotten here in that time there’s a chance he never will. Maybe you weren’t as important as you thought you were.

“Expected someone else?” - Montague asked in his usual prickly way but you tuned him out entirely. You tried to keep it together as best as you could but it was futile. Who cares about protocols at this point. You just wanted to cry.

“Hey..” - he approached again, tone much softer this time. He kneeled down in front of you, getting dust and grime all over his expensive pair of pants. You immediately tensed up as he reached out towards you, only for him to wipe the wayward tears, that you couldn’t hold back, off of your face. - “Maybe it’s a long way here.”

You shrugged out of his touch. The last person you wanted comforting from was the guy who got you into this mess to begin with.

At the same time, it wasn’t all bad. You couldn’t recall the last time someone touched you like this, trying to be comforting, without any malice or intent to hurt.

It was pathetic, but you almost craved more.

After a bit of silence, that probably felt longer than it was he spoke up again.

“I brought you breakfast.” - his words finally piqued your interest and you looked up at him. In his hand was a small plate packed with exquisite looking pastries and fruits. You also had access to expensive looking food at the agency but you never really had time to treat yourself to breakfasts there. Work always came first.

Up until this point you didn’t really consider just how hungry you were. He could have offered you moldy bread and you still would have taken it. Unless there was a catch.

“You’re going to poison me now or what?” - you scrunched up your nose at him, voice still a bit hoarse from crying. He didn’t seem too phased by it, at this point you just looked like a sad, wet kitten he found at the side of the road, trying to keep up a tough act.

“Would it make sense for me to poison you before your boss even gets here?” - he gave a knowing half smile before picking up one of the croissants from the plate and taking a bite. You studied his face, making note of every move as he chewed and swallowed his food. That was enough to convince you and you sat up, struggling a bit against your bonds.

He picked up the other pastry from the plate and reached it towards your mouth, unwilling to untie you just yet. You thought about it for a second before finally taking a bite.

It was really good. So soft and sweet, nothing like the ones you were used to before being hired by the agency. The days of eating cheap, cardboard flavoured croissants were long gone, yet you could still recall them like it was yesterday. This job and by proxy your boss really saved your life. You felt like no matter how much work you put in, it was never enough to repay him for it.

By the time you finished that thought your food was gone as well, and Montague reached for the bright red strawberries that were laid out in a flower like shape on the plate. You watched as his hands moved down so delicately, then up towards you. You caught his gaze, fixed right on you and your stomach churned a little.

Being hand fed like this already felt almost intimate, but the way he looked at you just made it so much more worse.

Seeing him from up close, you could really tell just how attractive he was, not like it was hard to tell beforehand. His mismatched eyes were captivating on their own, but his features made them even more striking. He was a very pretty man, and he knew it. If he told you he was a model you wouldn’t even question it. Not even the scars across his face could ruin this perfect image, they only enhanced it further.

You tried to shoo these thoughts away as you continued to eat, even as his fingers slightly brushed against your lips occasionally. Getting flustered over the man holding you captive would be the lowest point of your career. Even lower than getting caught upon entering the location of your mission.

“Was it good?” - he asked with a small smile on his face. It was probably easy to tell by the way you ravaged that croissant, like it was your last meal on this earth.

“Yes, Sir.” - you face immediately turned pale as you realised what you just said out loud. You coughed a little to clear your throat before your voice fully left you.- “No I mean- Sorry just- Force of habit.”

He found it amusing enough, laughing a little to himself. You must have looked real stupid there. Almost a freudian slip. You decided to change the topic immediately lest he decided to ask about it.

“Can I have a cigarette please?” - you mumbled in a tone much meeker than you usually would. He nodded, rummaging through his pocket before pulling out a small black box. Treasurer. Is this really what all the rich guys smoke? You shouldn’t have been surprised, but at least this one was familiar.

Montague leisurely reached into the box, pulling out a cigarette fully coated in black. It looked cool, you’ll give him that. He held it towards your mouth and you parted your lips just enough for it to fit. Then he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and flicked it a few times before it finally lit up, the golden flame taking over the once dark cigarette. This felt even weirder than being hand fed.

You inhaled slowly. A habit this nasty shouldn’t feel this good. But after what happened yesterday, this was exactly what you needed. You exhaled the smoke, trying not aim for his face since he was gracious enough to share it with you. He reached for it and took it out of your mouth to flick the end off. This continued on for a little before he spoke up.

“It must have been uncomfortable to sleep down here. I’m willing to lend you a room up in the hotel, if you wish so.” - his face was devoid of any malice but you didn’t trust it for a second. Why would he want to do that for his hostage? Out of the kindness of his heart? Most definitely not.

But he was right, the vault was cold and dark, despite its lavish looks. You were used to camping out in uncomfortable places from time to time, but the thought of sleeping in a normal, warm bed was just too enticing.

“What’s the catch?” - you asked bluntly, studying his face, waiting for the moment he slipped up. This sounded way too good to be true. Such an easy bait, something only an idiot would fall for.

“Must there always be one?” - he gave you a half smile but he quickly realised you weren’t buying his theatrics at all. You saw right through him, though it wasn’t that hard.

You took a long drag from your cigarette in place on an answer.

“I’ve looked through your records. You seem quite capable.” - he said, very matter of fact. You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with this, so you just stared at him, somewhat confused. - “I want you to join my team.”

He must have been out of his mind to even suggest that.

“You want to hire me even after I got caught by you?” - you huffed out a strained laugh, raising an eyebrow. This must be some sort of a sick joke on his end. A way to further humiliate you. And yet he seemed so strangely sincere about it.

“Oh, don’t take that to heart.” - he laughed, swiping his thumb over your cheek. So demeaning, but almost comforting in a way. - “You had no chance against me.”

What a punchable face he had.

“You must be real stupid if you think I’d betray my boss for you.” - you blurted out. You squinted your eyes, full of anger at the implication. The fact that he even thought about it for a second pissed you off, let alone presenting it to you as an option.

He took a firm hold of your chin as to not let you look away. He wanted all of your attention on him, and for you to know who’s still the one in control. You felt chills running down your spine.

“No no, who said betray? Take it more as.. cooperation between two parties. A truce if you will.” - that sly smirk on his face made you all the more frustrated. Just what did he even mean by that? A truce for what exactly? Your head was running wild with ideas, but either way, it was not like you really had a choice.

“So?” - his voice interjected into your racing thoughts, as you were trying to imagine every scenario and how they could play out based on your answer. None of the ones where you said “no” ended well.

“Fine, I’ll do what you want.” - you sighed in defeat, lowering your gaze as much as you could, while he still had a hold of you. - “Just don’t hurt anyone from the agency. Please.”

“Mhm, good. I can do that. That is, if they don’t attack first." - he stroked your cheek a few more times, almost sickeningly affectionately. Then his grip on your chin lessened and soon enough he let go of you entirely. It was good to know that you were both on the same page about the possible rescue efforts. If Midas was coming to get you he was definitely not coming alone, no matter what the conditions were. But it didn’t seem like he minded that. Maybe he was betting on that possibility.

Montague put out the remainder of the cigarette on the ground, smearing the ash across the expensive looking carpet. He would have to get that replaced.

He leaned in closer to you as he pulled out a small, shiny switchblade from his pocket and reached for your legs, cutting the rope around them with a few calculated motions. For a moment you though he was going to cut clean into you, but clearly this wasn’t his first rodeo. Either way he seemed a little too confident in his abilities.

He took his time untangling the rope from around your legs, making sure to take in the sight in the process. He reached for your shoes and promptly dropped them in front of you. The moment you managed to struggle yourself into them the world seemed just a bit brighter. Comfy, at last.

After he was done he stood up and dusted off his pants. Those needed to be replaced as well.

He reached out his arms towards you, taking a firm grip on your shoulders as he pulled you up from the ground. Your legs were still too shaky for you to stand, after being cramped in one position for so long, but he expected it, pulling you just a bit closer to himself for balance. Too close. You could practically smell the expensive cologne he was wearing, something with sandalwood and a touch of vanilla. You swallowed hard. If you let your mind wander just a bit too long you might have rested your head on his shoulder.

His right arm snaked around your waist to get a better hold on you, and for a second you almost thought it felt nice. That was until you felt something cold and metallic press against the other side of your body. A gun. Of course. Even if it was just for show, it still made you consider every step you took. You were still planning to use those organs he was aiming at.

The walk up to the first floor of the hotel was long and awkward. You didn’t exactly have the time to look around and take in the sights when you first got here, so you tried your best to memorise where everything was.

The hotel was beautiful and lavish, all the walls and pillars trimmed in gold and decorated in a way that just screamed rich. Some of it was definitely expensive just for the sake of it, but the end result was still impressive nonetheless.

A vacation here would have been nice. Guess that’s off the list now.

He finally stopped in front of a door that didn’t seem any different from the others at a first glance, pulling out his keys from his pocket and unlocking it.

The moment you stepped in you noticed just how suspicious it all was. Guns and weapons mounted on the wall, an expensive looking laptop and monitors sitting on the desk, the luxury clothing peeking out of the halfway open closet.

So there was another catch. This must be his room.

Your racing thoughts got even more hazy as he stopped in front of the king sized bed, motioning for you to take a seat. You reluctantly did so.

“It would be inappropriate to keep you tied up now that you’re a part of my team.” - he said, pulling out his switchblade and reaching towards you back for your hands. - “ I’ll take this off, if you promise to behave.”

“I’ll try to..” - you sighed, leaning forward a bit to give him better access. He cut through the rope in one swift motion, slicing through it like it was melting butter. Just how many times did he have to do this..

You pulled your hands into your lap, hissing in pain as you ran your fingers over the rope burn. You might have struggled too much for your own good back at the vault. It didn’t matter though, you were at least free now. In theory.

Montague’s gaze softened as he reached for your hands, cradling them in his own, something close to actual remorse flashing over his eyes for a second. You weren’t sure if you should buy it. You couldn’t tell if anything he ever said was truly genuine. A flurry of thoughts raced through your head.

You could kill him right now. He’s defenceless. Distracted. You could snap his neck any second. And yet you decided not to.

He sighed quietly, pulling your hands up to him before placing soft kisses all over your torn skin. His lips were so warm, it made you feel dizzy, unable to pull your hand back, and unable to want to as well. You stared at him, expression unchanging and mind blank, but unable to hide just how hot your face was getting. If this was his way of apologising, then he managed to do a good job.

After a few seconds he pulled away, turning towards the entrance and promptly locking the door.

“I’ll run you a bath if you want.” - he said, walking towards the bathroom door. He opened it, revealing a large room full of white and greenish furnishings, packed to the brim with bath and beauty products. - “Im sure it would feel nice to relax a bit. I can bring you clean clothes as well.”

You were still a bit too starstruck by his previous actions to react, staring at your bruised hands, mind replaying the image over and over again. It took you a moment before you finally managed to get your head straight and answer him.

“Will you be watching me or..?” - you raised an eyebrow, finally back to your suspicious self. Montague chuckled, visibly unsure about you being truly serious. The tides have turned.

“Of course not. You said you would behave, haven’t you?” - with that he walked into the bathroom, towards the white marble bathtub, opening the tap and watching the hot mist rise up from it. - “Besides, this room has no windows. I trust you won’t break down the wall while I’m not looking.”

He smirked, unaware of the fact that you have in fact done that on more than one occasion before. You didn’t have the explosives, nor the nerve to do it in such a cramped room though.

“Thank you..” - you muttered, unusually quiet. You got off the bed and walked towards the room, closing the door and twisting the lock quickly. You scanned the door with your eyes, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t see through any of the cracks.

Next you strolled around the room, checking for any possible places a camera could be hidden. All clear. Maybe he did do this out of the kindness of his heart for once. It never hurt to be cautious though..

You walked up to the bathtub and stripped of your dusty clothes, leaving them in a pile as you stepped into the water.

Many different brands of shampoos, conditioners and body washes lined the side of the tub, but the ones that caught your attention was the bath salts. You opened them one by one, smelling them and pondering on the best choice. Once you picked the winner you poured probably more than you should have into the tub, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere it brought.

You did the same for the rest of the products, deciding to waste as much time as you possibly could. It was nice to have some time for yourself for once, even if it had to come at a situation like this. With the conditioners applied, you sunk down into the tub, laying your head on the edge and closing your eyes. You kept wondering about how all of this had happened.

Why were you immediately suspicious to him upon entering the hotel? Your best guess was that he must have already had some info on you, but you couldn’t be for sure.

Montague was a frustrating enigma. On a first glance you wouldn’t have written him down as a master thief and manipulator, maybe just some rich pretty boy with a strange taste in jewellery. That just meant he was good at his job and even better at hiding his darker side.

Half the things he said he did so with that annoyingly charming smirk, like he knew he was playing everyone in the room and he just couldn’t help but let it slip sometimes. He was a true megalomaniac, but you were somewhat familiar with his kind by now.

His relic was even more of a mystery, it’s origin and full properties and powers all unknown. According to one witness he could turn his body parts into pure diamond with it. Some said his whole body can be transformed into it. You had to wonder if it he might harm himself while doing that. If the diamonds might stay lodged into his skin after. If it ever leaves a scar..

Your mind wandered, trying to imagine where his scars could be formed. Maybe across the arm he uses? Maybe on his chest, where it’s the closest to? Maybe through his legs, running down his thighs or-

You shot up from the water, snapping your eyes open, having had just about enough of those fantasies. You were certainly out of line now, the nagging thoughts in your head reminding you about how he also takes baths here, pushing images into your mind, not making your situation any better.

You washed your hair off and pulled the plug, letting the now colourful water flow down the drain. You reached for the towel that was previously placed by him on the sink. Relishing in its softness, you stepped in front of the mirror, beginning to dry your hair, using all the products laid out for it.

Once you were done with that you finally took a close look at the massive skincare collection standing in front of his mirror, which you have been eyeing the entire time.

It was a lot. By any standards. You carefully looked over and studied all of them before deciding on what to do.

You took them one by one and applied them, having the time of your life in the meantime. You were honestly kind of jealous of his collection. This time you didn’t exactly care about how they would affect your skin, you were hellbent on using up as many as you could. Have a little revenge. Make him think he’s safe when he’s reaching for his favourite lotion, only to find out that it’s empty.

Once you were done with your petty crime of passion you looked towards the door. Maybe he forgot about the clothes. If push comes to shove you could wear the same ones again.

“Can i have the clean clothes please?” - you raised your voice loud enough for him to hear. You heard faint ruffling from the other side before he got close enough for you to speak.

“Open the door and i’ll hand then in.” - you considered your options before twisting the lock. With the door slightly agape, you saw his hand peek in, holding onto a pair of greyish black clothes. The moment you took it from him his hand retracted and you shut the door again.

The clothes were plain but cute. Not exactly your style, but you still found them charming. You got dressed and looked at yourself in the mirror. This change in looks made you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It was like you were looking at a completely different person. Your old uniform and disguise filled you with a sense of belonging, like you were tied to the agency as long as you had it on. You didn’t want to think about it much so you headed for the door and stepped outside.

Montague was sitting at his desk, busy looking over the security camera footage displayed on his monitors, and what looked to be your files open on his laptop. That was not a flattering picture. It must have been taken close to when you joined the agency, based on the hair style you had.

You walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge, dangling your legs in the air absentmindedly. He seemed so occupied with skipping through the cameras that your weren’t even sure he noticed you coming back. You glanced around the room, looking for anything interesting you could occupy yourself with.

Your eyes landed on some magazines on the bedside table, the image on the cover already intriguing. It must have been an older picture, based on the fact that the Montague you saw on it was more younger looking, his face softer and his scar nowhere to be seen.

So he was a model.

You flipped it open, Montague quickly looking over his shoulder towards the noise. He took a long look at you before giving a half smile and turning back to his work. Reading through the pages seemed to be less rewarding than you imagined, most of it only talking about the fake persona he built up to the public.

His rags to riches story told in there was interesting, for sure, but knowing the real details made the false tale far less awe inspiring. He didn’t just climb the ladder of society like the papers said, he practically stole his way to the top. Unethical, but the truth was far more impressive to you.

You felt like you had it more easy compared to him, coming from a similar background but being taken under by someone who was already powerful, while Montague had became that powerful person by his own hands.

In the end, both of you had to do bad things to get to where you were now. Even then, you never once regretted joining the agency.

Lost in thought you stared at the picture in front of you, only seeing him get up and sit next to you from the corner of your eye. You closed the magazine and set it aside, looking up at him, having a question you wanted answered for a while now.

The air seemd to grow heavy as you two stared at each other, neither of you breaking the silence. You traced the scar on his eyebrow with your eyes, running over the jagged lines over and over again. You needed to focus.

“Why did you want me on your team?” - you finally managed to force out the question, eagerly waiting for his reaction. There was really no good reason for him to do that. You’ve shown yourself to be unreliable and a clutz by getting caught so early. He could have just asked for the agency to cooperate and give you back to them. No matter how many times you thought about it, there was no good reason.

“I like you.”

Oh.

His answer was curt, almost surprised that this wasn’t clear to you. It felt like a molotov has just been thrown into your brain, your frenzied thoughts getting even more incoherent by the second. Did he? Was that why he was so nice to you? That didn’t seem right and even if it was true what would that even change and how-

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction as you just sat there staring at him, face noticeably red. You sighed, nodding your head in understanding, unable and unwilling to say anything in case that would make things worse.

You knew how you felt, it was obvious, and if he was good enough at reading people then he probably did too.

“Why are you so devoted to your agency?” - he changed the subject, taking your question as a green light to dig into you and unearth your secrets. You didn’t really mind it.

“It’s hard to explain..” - you sighed, scooting up towards middle of the bed and sitting cross legged. He looked at you for a second as if to ask for permission and you nodded, letting him sit on the bed properly and a bit closer to you. - “My boss, Midas he’s.. he’s just done so much for me.”

“Like mutilating your fingers?” - Montague asked, raising an eyebrow. Your expression immediately changed, not expecting him to go there.

“Not that’s-“ - you gasped out, tone very defensive. You turned your palms towards you, looking over the scar tissue that was left behind, speaking more quietly now. - “You misunderstood, it was never his idea. I did it because i wanted to do a better job.. for him…”

He gave you a small nod, understanding but not fully satisfied with the answer. You continued.

“He helped me out of a bad living situation by offering me a job at the agency. I was able to achieve and learn so much thanks to him.” - you smiled a little to yourself as you recalled the memories. It hasn’t been that long since you were gone, but you missed your team so much. - “I’ve been trying to do my job perfectly but i felt like no matter how much i work put in i would never be able to repay him. And now i’m here, getting myself in trouble and giving him more work..”

“If he truly cares, he will come and rescue you, no matter what.” - Montague sighed, raising his arm towards you and gently stroking your cheek. The sudden closeness made you freeze up for a second. - “And if he doesn’t.. this isn’t the worst place for you to stay at.”

His words and actions were so comforting, you almost forgot this situation was partially his fault. You stopped blaming him for it a while ago, even if you couldn’t trust him fully you felt like you could at least relate to him, and that made you feel a bit better. Getting pulled out of your comfort zone like this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, now that you two were on better terms. It was hard to admit, but you enjoyed being around Montague.

You looked back at him but he didn’t say a word, he was staring at you intently, his eyes flickering across your features.

The tension was thick enough to cut at this point. You caught his glance again.

“What is it?” - you questioned with an almost dumbfounded tone, unable to imagine what was going though his head. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh.

Oh.

That strangely blunt question, his careful tone, his half smile, that stupidly charming face, all of it was too much. You just stared at him, face hot and mouth slightly agape.

It’s not like you weren’t thinking about it since the moment you laid eyes on him. Even if you knew it was selfish, careless and very very dumb, your body was telling you the complete opposite.

“I mean.. if you.. yeah..”- you turned your eyes away from him, onto your slightly shaking hands. God, you were acting so idiotic. Like a teenager upon being faced with their first crush. It was almost laughable.

He reached out a hand and lifted your chin up so you could look at him again. A sense of danger coursed through your entire body as he leaned in closer, so close that your faces were almost touching.

“Please say you want it, then.” - he said, leaning in closer to your neck, almost begging, voice low and hoarse. Your head was spinning, all rational thoughts leaving you behind with each shallow breath you took. You could feel his hot breath tickling against your skin.

“Please kiss me.”

He raised his head and you could see his smile widen as he closed the distance between you two, his lips meeting yours so softly that it almost hurt.

He closed his eyes as his arm trailed down to your neck, then your shoulder, his other hand tilting your chin up just enough to reach him.

You kept your eyes wide open, almost frozen in place for a second. You wanted this so badly, so why was every cell of your body suddenly screaming for you to stop?

He noticed your shock just as quickly, pulling away immediately upon sensing that something was wrong.

“You’re.. supposed to close your eyes, you know..” - he huffed out a laugh, trying to break through the awkward air that sprung up around you two. His eyes were looking you up and down, trying to understand what the problem was. This wasn’t the right situation to mess around in, for sure, but he thought you were both on the same page.

“…sorry.” - you finally spoke up, looking at everything in the room except him in the process. - “Im just.. a little nervous.”

That was an understatement. It’s been so long since you last felt the warm hands of another person on you like this, it was almost alarming now. You frequently began to associate that feeling with an attempt on your life, which wasn’t the most unusual in your field of work. The better you got at your job, the less people managed to reach you. Familiarity was only to be found in the cold, dead touch of those who stood in your path.

He nodded, thinking about your words, body language and everything else that could have been unsaid. He decided to pull his hands back and place them in his lap, almost as if he was waiting to be cuffed. He was surprisingly good at reading people.

“No need to worry, sweetheart.” - he smiled softly, leaning back a little as he sat. You groaned in annoyance, the nickname making you blush even more and sending swarms of butterflies to your stomach. - “You’re the one in control here.”

That seemed to have calmed your nerves a little. You took a deep breath as you got up, debating for a fraction of a second if you should sit on his lap but ultimately deciding against it. You still had a bit of your common sense left after all.

You sat down on your knees in front of him and reached your hand out, caressing his stubbled face in an amused way.

“You’re really pretty.” - you mumbled, almost too quiet for him to hear. His eyes crinkled as a genuine smile peeked through his facade. You wondered what he really was like under all these layers of lies, if he was truly trustworthy, or someone more despicable than you could ever imagine.

Only time would tell, and you decided to shove those thoughts away for now. You leaned in closer, your lips melting in a warm embrace.

Your left hand trailed behind his neck while your right found its way into his hair, playfully ruffling into it. He laughed into the kiss and your heart almost skipped a beat. This whole thing was honestly comedic but you didn’t care. You never realised how much you actually craved this. Just to have someone treat you like you were precious. Let it be a lie or not.

The world around you ceased to exist for a moment, just you and him, in this fucked up situation, breaking all the rules you set up for yourself.

You pulled away for air, both of your faces flushed, his pupils wide like he just sampled all the drugs money could buy. It was almost silly. You swiped your thumb over his face, whispering praises in your native tongue that he didn’t need to understand.

Amused, you wiped the small string of saliva from his chin.

“Mon Dieu..”- he groaned, mouth agape, almost unable to find his words. - “Please do that again.”

You smirked, leaning back to him. You teased him for a few seconds, grazing his lips with yours, not fully giving in, until he looked up at you. His eyes half lidded, but face screaming annoyed. You huffed out a laugh. He was so stupidly attractive, it was almost surreal. Of course you couldn’t help but want to play with him a little.

You smiled a little, amused by his reaction before finally kissing him again. You felt like you could stay like this forever.

Until a strange sound caught your attention. You weren’t exactly sure where to put it, at first it sounded like drilling, or rattling outside. You tried to ignore it and focus on him, but the more you listened the clearer it was.

Your heartbeat started to quicken.

It was a car.

The realisation crossed your mind and you shot up from the bed, leaving Montague confused until he finally caught the sound himself. He knew damn well what it was and what it meant.

He got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket, hurriedly putting it on, his shoes following after. He leaned over his desk to look at the cameras, but couldn’t find a thing on them.

You reached for your platforms and slid into them as quick as you could, watching from the corner of your eye as Montague stuffed something into his pocket, but paying it no mind.

You were barely able to think, completely forgetting about the weather and putting on something warm before walking towards the door. He opened it wordlessly and lead you down the stairs, towards the entrance of the hotel. Everything was eerily quiet in the hall, somewhat usual for the late evening.

You stepped out of the golden trimmed gate and the chilly air suddenly hit you. This kind of weather wasn’t exactly what you were used to. You tugged at the hem of your shirt in an attempt to cover yourself up a bit more, eventually groaning defeat, a small mist cloud forming from your breath. It reminded you of the time when you were only pretending to smoke as a child.

Lost in thought you vaguely focused your eyes on the horizon, almost jumping as you felt something touch your shoulders.

“You’re going to get cold like this.” - Montague sighed, wrapping his long coat around you. You grabbed the edges and pulled them even closer to yourself in an attempt escape the biting cold.

The coat smelled like him. You closed your eyes for a second, imaging his arms in place of the soft fabric.

This distraction wasn’t long lived though, as you noticed something glistening in the distance, the sound growing closer and closer by the second.

The source of the noise finally dipped into view over the horizon, it was the roaring engine of the pitch black sports car that you were oh so familiar with. As it got closer you noticed how more than half of it was glimmering gold in the sun’s light, almost blinding to the eye. It was shocking to say the least. You couldn’t see through the darkened windows but you had a pretty good idea of who could be driving it.

It took a sharp turn then came to a sudden halt in front of the stairway, drifting through the dirt and ripping up the layer of snow that sat on top of it. A man in a suit jumped out hastily, and you swallowed hard.

It was him.

It really was him.

He didn’t leave you behind.

One look at him sent shivers down your spine. His hair was a mess, falling on his face and in front of his eyes. His tie was halfway undone, his jacket, the cuffs of his sleeves, and his pants all speckled and tainted gold. And the look on his face…

You’ve seen him angry plenty of times before, but never like this. He looked terrifying. The knot in your stomach tightened as a he took a few quick steps forward, looking up at the top of the stairs where you two were standing.

“You..” - you could hear him groan through gritted teeth. In the flash of an eye he pulled out a golden pistol and aimed it at the man standing next to you. Your eyes widened.

“Wait!” - You could barely react as three shots rang out and you quickly snapped towards their target.

The bullets fell to the ground, clanking loudly as they rolled down the stairs.

Montague’s face screamed shock, even though he most likely expected this scenario. It all happened so quickly, almost too fast for him to react. His chest rose and fell under the heavy weight of the protective diamond barrier he created just in time. He laughed out as Midas lowered his gun.

“What a rude introduction..” - he was immediately back at his usual snarkiness and you had to wonder if he understood just how close to death he was right there. He was good at hiding it, but you could see the drops of sweat rolling down his cheek, and how his hands were shaking ever so slightly. That first shot landed a little too close for comfort.

Midas’ face hasn’t changed for a second, his tired eyes focusing only on Montague’s every move, watching him like a predator waiting for his prey. If you hadn’t stopped him, he most likely would have torn him apart by now. If there was one thing he despised, it was others taking what’s his.

Montague cleared his throat.

“Your agent has already agreed to my deal. I’ll let them go for now, in exchange for you lending me some help. Sounds fair, doesn’t it?” - he smirked, his words making your stomach churn. You did agree, yes, but it’s not like it was a fair deal, nor did you know the full extent of it. You wondered just how badly you might have messed up this time.

Still, you were glad he didn’t attack Midas right after he tried to shoot him point blank. Maybe your words actually reached some part of him. Maybe he understood how important he was to you.

“And what the catch?” - Midas asked immediately. Montague just scoffed, you two really did think alike. He raised a hand as if he was making the offer of a lifetime.

“They will stay as a part of my team, while your agency aids me in dethroning the gods. That is also your goal, yes?” - his tone turned serious, his face losing the fake smile just as quick.

So that’s what this was all for. You could barely believe it, he was crazy for sure, but going up against the gods still seemed too far fetched. Midas on the other hand didn’t seem shocked in the slightest. He looked intrigued as he took a few moments to think before answering.

“In that case, I agree to your deal.” - They were both out of their minds. You took a few deep breaths, taking all of the information in. You understood Midas’ reasons very well. He was kept locked up by them for so long after all, of course he would want to take his revenge. If that’s what he truly wanted, then you would throw your life on the line as well.

“Mhm, good.” - Montague smiled, content, as he nudged your back with the gun he was hiding behind himself. Some things never change. - “Go on.”

And just like that, you were free. Truly free this time.

Your thoughts finally cleared as the stress and worry of the situation slowly left your brain. All you could focus on now was the man standing at the bottom of the staircase.

You broke into a sprint, almost tripping at the speed you were running. You ran as if your life depended on it, like he would disappear if you didn’t reach him in time.

Tears pricked at you eyes as his face softened, and against your better judgement you practically jumped into his arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I thought you’d never come, I’m sorry, I’ll never make a mistake like this again!” - You sobbed against his chest, words held back for so long finally spilling out all at once, your tears staining the expensive material of his shirt. You held onto him so tight your muscles started to hurt, all signs of professionalism thrown out the window by now.

“Careful! I’m barely able to-“ - He quickly raised his hands to avoid touching you.

“I know. I’m sorry, Sir.” - You sniffed a little as you let go, trying to regain some of your composure. This would definitely not be allowed in the office. But he didn’t look like he minded it much, he just seemed glad that you were alive and unharmed.

In truth, all he wanted to do was to run his fingers through your hair and make sure you were truly okay. He knew better than to do that though, not in the state he was in. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“It’s okay now. I’m here.”

The plan was in motion. Everything worked out just as he had wanted it to. And yet Montague could not shake off the uneasy feeling he was having, digging his nails into his own skin so hard that it drew blood. It all went well, and yet he was still so worked up over you clutching onto that man, like he was your lifeline.

Several other people got out of the car by then, a lady in black, a girl with dark braids and a tall cat. You waved and ran up to them, crying even more than before.

He couldn’t fully hear what you were saying, but he could guess. A tearful reunion, a beautiful way to end things. It’s been a while since he last felt emotions this strong and overwhelming. He was overreacting, and he knew it, but he was still unable to get himself to think straight.

He had you in the palm of his hand, and he was not willing to let you go now. That soft gaze, those gentle touches, the taste of your lips, he wanted it all for himself.

Maybe an unforeseen accident, a terrible tragedy, a mistake that would cost his life or maybe…

He saw you turn around and look back at him, a soft smile on your face. You were smiling at him. A genuine, kind gesture. It made his heart flutter.

…maybe those won’t be necessary.

[lord-squiggletits]

In the last salty asks post I unintentionally went on a tangent in the notes about how JRO wrote religious characters which is like actually something I want to bring up on its own so like

Is it just me or does JRO have some real misses when it comes to writing religious characters? Not like every religious character is badly written or evil, but like... several of the ones that are fall into really bad or unflattering/shallow stereotypes? It's hard to put my finger exactly on why I feel that way bc he does write some actually good religious characters (aka Cyclonus).

For example, characters like the Functionist Council and Star Saber are fine to me because I'm like. Well Functionism being religious in origin makes sense, it's an interesting interplay of how religion influences the state/how the state leverages religion to bend the populace to its own whims. Religious bad guys =/= all religious people bad. Star Saber is just some random zealot that wasn't meant to be that deep at all, and eh the Inquisition-type religious zealot can be cool even if it's just the vibes of it.

But then there's stuff like... Tyrest being a normal, rational, not particularly religious guy until he gets shot with a bullet that gives him brain damage, causing him to start ranting about Cyberutopia and thinking God is personally talking to him in his brain...? Like, idk, was it really the best idea for an antagonist to go "he is evil because he got brain damaged against his will w/o even knowing what really happened to him and also because he's brain damaged he's now literally delusional and became a religious (and genocidal) maniac." It comes off as really bad taste/not thinking the implications through as far as how it reflects on religious people (bc the whole "religious people are literally delusional and stupid to think that their gods could possibly exist" thing is tired and offensive). Not to mention kind of ableist w/ the whole "oh he became evil bc he got shot in the brain and now there's literally something wrong with his mind."

(Doesn't help that the MTMTE logbooks revealed that the original idea for Tyrest was to have his killswitch be about trying to identify and execute all of the criminals/"guilty people" on Cybertron, basically an extension of his role as Chief Justice which makes so much more sense and is way more interesting and compelling???? Certainly better than (gets brain damaged) "Ah I'm now going to genocide all cold constructs because God told me to")

And then Drift with spectralism which...which... basically the extent of that whole religion is the name of a single festival (the Lost Light festival the eponymous ship was named after), and some stuff about face/body paint and colors having spiritual symbolism, then the Guiding Hand/Primus stuff that's also shared with Primalism. But then you have Drift who's the main representative of this religion basically being written as a phony who doesn't even believe in the shit coming out of his mouth. Or if his beliefs are sincere, the way he acts is basically just "oooooh, I sense unclean vibes and read into the energy of the universe" which is played for laughs or mocked by the other characters most of the time. And Drift's character is written so inconsistently (and the general religious worldbuilding so one-dimensional) that it's hard to tell if Drift is supposed to be read as some kooky fake hippie type or if he's genuinely a representation of Spectralism in general. Like, idk, the best JRO could come up for for building a religion was "they wear certain colors and patterns on them and vaguely talk about sensing energy from the universe?" It literally feels like baby's first fictional religion or like, religion as understood by a non-religious/atheist person who sees religion as nothing more than an aesthetic or some quirky rituals.

I'm not saying the story had to be about religion or have religion be brought up in every conversation, it's just...... the way he wrote/did worldbuilding for it comes off as as very "non-religious person who doesn't have any particular understanding of religion/why people are religious tries to write what they think religion is about" and most of the time it's kinda cringe.

[im-getting-help]

i miss saltburn??

i feel myself slowly drifting back into the IT fandom again and im sad

[chamerionwrites]

“I like reading [X] because [Y]” ≠ “I like reading every single version of [XY] without any other preferences, standards, or selectivity.” What even.

[coffeebanana]

look. it's not my fault that i want to break blorbo bones

if the exact hurt/comfort fic i was looking for to fill this particular void already existed, then the urge wouldn't be so strong

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL: Author's Notes.

Mini series time because I'm rediscovering my infatuation with Bones and All! If you've seen the movie, I'm going to stick to the same general plot, but I have to change it up to make it my own. No shade to Maren, love her, but she's not in this.

I have a few 'mini series' in the works, and it's easier to give the reader a name rather than y/n each time, so everyone meet Gracie! She's going to be the character in all the 'series' but any stand alone fanfiction I write will still contain the y/n prompt.

FOR THE BONES AND ALL SERIES:

Lee is going to remain very much the same. At the time of writing this, I don't have plans to change his character in the slightest, outside of making him talk a little more. He's also going to be 22!

Gracie is the daughter of an eater, but she doesn't eat- never had the inclination to do it. That's important to remember. The bulk of her backstory is in the very beginning of part 1, and she's turning 21 in part 2. She will fill in any gaps in conversations with Lee.

** This post is subject to change as the story develops**

My typical 'Warnings and such' will be posted on each part I upload, but here's the bulk of them:

18+ MINORS DNI!! I want to write a little smut for the two of them, but I want to establish the fact that they are both of age before anything else comes into play!

There will be lots of mentions of blood and death and cannibalism- obviously. There will also be mentions of abuse, drugs, alcohol and cigarettes. Some adult themes (see above), and all around violence. If there's anything else I should add, please let me know! I'm also going to be updating this list as I write.

I will be uploading each part separately and will post the links to each part when I figure out how to do it!

I wouldn't call myself a great writer- there's about a million ideas in my head but putting them on paper has always been incredibly difficult for me. Tumblr is my fist experience with letting anyone else read what I write, and it's still nerve-wracking but I appreciate the love I have gotten so far! Brother-Fucker was so much fun to write but SO scary to post! I'm hoping that as the nerves settle, the writing will get better- so please bear with me on this one!!

Edit to Add: Timothee Chalamet era is in full swing! Mini series will be based on Call Me By Your Name, Beautiful Boy, A Rainy Day in New York (I know, I know) The King, and Dune. I don't have enough ideas to do Little Women and Lady Bird- YET!

Stand alone fanfics will be based on Regulus MF Black!, Timothee Chalamet himself, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter (maybe Peter Pettigrew before he became a rat, but not a real rat, a rat rat). Harry Potter is my *thing* if you couldn't tell by my page!

I hope that's all! Thanks again to everyone!!!

[crazylittlejester]

oh my god none of these whumptober fics are gonna end up being good why is this actually the most difficult thing ive ever done in my life why can’t i fucking write anymore good lord what happened

[writeouswriter]

Making out with Grady Hendrix’s book cover designer but physically fighting Grady Hendrix himself 😔

[laniidae-passerine]

I’m finding that the laziest moments of Doctor Who’s writing are the ‘retroactive twists’ - when the show runner reveals something happened way back over there, in the past, before they were even running the show. And we swear it happened, way over there, far back, and you didn’t see it because of reasons but it’s definitely been happening! And it totally makes sense and I absolutely didn’t just pull it out my ass to justify my paper thin plotline! All this kind of writing does is make me miss self contained season length plots. We’ve had people complaining that Moffat was guilty of the “this thing is big and scary and it’s going to happen, oh god it’s showing up, we’re going to discover what it truly is….. next season!!!!!!” plotline (and yes. he was. twelve is my fav doctor but yeah Moffat loved a mysterious horse and a big stick) but now suddenly when RTD gets out his own mysterious horse and a big stick, it’s got to be genius! everything is eventually going to make sense! and we’re absolutely not being had by a man who used to be able to write this show and is now a hack!

[lowonthewilltolivemeter]

How do y’all feel about reading a fic about Lou Jitsu suffering through his stay at The Nexus? And I do mean bargaining for scraps and blaming himself, hating Big Mama and the cherry on top, having to kill a child!

[puthyflapps]

Swifties prove everyday that they’re the dumbest people on the internet and that’s really saying something cuz I’ve dealt directly with blarkes