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seasonschange-butpeopledont · 4 years ago

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The Last of Us: Part II

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader / Santiago “Pope�� Garcia x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, threats of violence, guns, blood and injury, a post-zombie apocalypse world ripped straight out of The Last of Us, first aid medical stuff (kind of?)

Word Count: 1,644

Author’s Note: The Triple Frontier Zombie Apocalypse AU no one asked for.

Summary: After Frankie is injured, the boys find themselves in need of your help.

Part I - Taglist Form - Masterlist - Part III

The gunshots outside your window set heart racing. Not an entirely uncommon sound in the world you lived in now, but the quiet of the last few days had given you the illusion of peace.

That fantasy was promptly shattered when a large blonde man kicked your door in, covered in blood and carrying a metal pipe as a weapon.

“Get him inside!” He ordered, speaking to someone you could not yet see. You’d been hiding behind the counter of the bar since the shots rang out, but it wouldn’t be long before these strangers discovered you there. Careful not to move too suddenly and make the old wooden floors creak under the shift of your weight, you craned your neck to peek around the corner.

You watched two more men follow behind the first, carrying an unconscious man through the doorway. The metallic scent of blood hit you immediately. Someone had been injured.

“Goddamnit,” The youngest blonde swore. “Where the hell did they come from?”

“Must have been following us,” One of the men reasoned. “Caught Fish in the back.”

“You thinkin’ they were hunters?”

“Nah,” The first man shook his head. “That was amateur. Probably just desperate for some supplies.”

“Right, and we aren’t?” The young blonde snorted. “This whole fuckin’ plan was stupid. Never should have come this far into the city.”

“C’mon, Benny, quit complaining and help me move that jukebox in the corner. We’ve gotta barricade this door.”

“With noise like that, we’ll be lucky if a damn horde ain’t at our doorstep in a few minutes,” The man, Benny, you presumed, grumbled as he began pushing the heavy machine across the floor. “Fuckin’ scavengers.”

The third man was knelt on the ground, assessing the unconscious man’s wounds.

“How bad is it?” The first man called.

“I’ve seen worse,” He replied, placing his hands against the wound and applying pressure as best he could. He looked around the room in search of supplies, his gaze landing on the bar top. You shrank back, but you knew it was useless. He was on his feet and heading towards the place where you hid in the blink of an eye.

When he came around the counter, he spotted you immediately, still crouched down on the floor. He was shorter than the rest of the group, with tan skin and greying curls. There was a fierceness in his eyes that told you he meant business.

“Looks like we’ve got company, boys,” He called.

You were ill-prepared for the confrontation, clutching the neck of a broken bottle as a makeshift weapon. If it came down to it, you doubted it would do you any good. You weren’t much of a fighter.

“You know anything about this?” He demanded, unholstering his weapon and training it on you. He pointed to the injured man with his free hand.

“What? No, I– I don’t know anything,” You shook your head, fumbling for a defense, caught off guard by how absurd the accusation seemed to you. “You broke into my bar, remember?”

“Could be a trap. You sure you don’t have a buddy in the back that’s about to come shoot at us?” He countered evenly, the gun in his hands lowering slightly so that it was no longer pointed between your eyes.

“If I was planning a robbery, don’t you think I’d be armed with something a little better than,” You paused, looking at the label of the bottle in your hand, “Peppermint schnapps?”

At this, the man raised an eyebrow and looked towards his companions, seeming to ask for their assessment of the situation. The two men flanked him, watching you carefully.

“She ain’t gonna hurt anybody,” The young blonde spoke up. Benny, you remembered. “Look at her, Pope. Poor thing’s scared to death.”

You glared at him, clearly indignant at his observation. The man with the gun nodded finally, holstering the weapon before retreating towards the injured man to check on him once more.

The older blonde stepped in, holding out a hand to help you up off of the floor. You accepted it, pulling yourself to your feet. “Hey there,” He said with a calmness in his voice as he introduced himself, “I’m Will, and that’s my brother, Benny. Over there, that’s Pope– He’s a little spooked right now, so you’ll have to forgive his manners.”

He pointed towards the man they’d dragged into the building, currently sitting on the floor with his back against one of the booths by the front wall. Pope was beside him, pressing a bloodied shirt against the wound at his friend’s shoulder. “And that’s Catfish. Look, we aren’t here to cause any trouble, but we could really use your help.”

You gave him your name in a voice just above a whisper, your attention held by the wounded man. He wore a hat that shadowed his face, but something about his slumped figure tugged at your heart. His friends clearly cared about him deeply. That wasn’t something you came by often in this world, not anymore. These days, it was every man for himself.

Your grip on the bottle loosened, and you put it away. “I have a first aid kit upstairs,” You informed them, turning back to Will and Benny. “I’ll go get it for you. There’s some clean dish rags under the sink to help stop the bleeding.”

Relief washed over Will’s face. “Thank you,” He told you, his sincerity clear in his tone.

“Mind if we take this?” Benny asked you, holding up a bottle of whiskey. “I think it’s going to take a little more than those tiny antiseptic wipes to get that thing good and clean.”

“Go ahead,” You confirmed, heading towards the store room to grab the first aid kit off the shelf. Back in the bar, you could hear muffled groans of pain as the men poured the liquor to sterilize the wound. The agonizing sound went straight to your heart, making your stomach twist painfully. It’s been months, but you didn’t think you’d ever acclimate to the suffering you’d witnessed since the beginning of the outbreak.

“Thanks,” Pope murmured when you returned, handing the first aid kit to him. Benny and Will had taken up arms by the door, watching through the cracks in the boarded up windows for any signs of oncoming hordes.

“Mind putting pressure on that for me?” He requested, taking his hands off of the wound to sift through your meager medical supplies. Your hands replaced his, pressing down on Catfish’s shoulder. His breath was coming out in short, even puffs. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, and a thin layer of sweat covered his face, dampening the hair that curled against his forehead. If the situation were different, you might have found him handsome.

You looked back to Pope, watching him work. His eyes were focused on threading the needle to begin stitching, and you discovered that his fingers were trembling. It surprised you; these didn’t seem like the type of men who cracked under pressure. This Catfish fellow must have meant a lot to them.

“Is he going to be okay?” You inquired softly. Pope swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“I think so. The bullet went straight through. If we can stitch it up, it’ll be fine, as long as there’s no infection. We should probably think about getting some food in him soon.”

“That’s good,” You replied, trying to keep your tone optimistic. Infection was as big of a threat as anything these days, but you thought you thought he stood a good chance. A bottle of whiskey and some clean bandages were still miles better than the field medicine most people received.

When Pope failed to thread the needle for the third time, you held out your hand to him expectantly. “Let me take over. I used to do a lot of sewing with my grandmother. Steady hands.”

You offered him a reassuring smile, and he reluctantly relinquished the needle and thread to you.

“Have you been here long?” He asked absentmindedly, sitting back on his heels as you worked. Your eyebrows drew together in concentration.

“A while. The bar is pretty well stocked, all things considered.” You got the thread through the eye easily, carefully securing it before nudging Pope’s hands aside. You removed the dish rag and took out one of the antiseptic wipes, clearing away some of the remaining blood before you set to work on stitching the wound closed.

“Riding out the apocalypse at the bar,” Pope snorted softly. “Sounds like a nice plan. Wish I would have thought of that one.”

“I used to live in the apartment upstairs, actually, before everything…” You trailed off, not eager to rehash the beginning of the end. “Well, you know what happened. When the QZ fell apart a few months later, I didn’t really know where else to go, so I ended up back here. I guess the owners of this place didn’t make it, but it seemed safe enough and there are plenty of supplies, if you don't mind beer nuts and pretzels. I’ve been hiding out here ever since.”

“Really? All by yourself?” He frowned. You seem to hesitate, swallowing a lump in your throat before answering.

“Believe it or not, you and your friends are the first people I’ve spoken to in about two months.��

“No kidding?”

You shook your head. It was a lonely existence you led these days, so different to the one you had when the city was full of life.

“That’s too bad,” Pope told you, unable to ignore the pit that formed in his stomach when he noticed the sadness in your eyes. “I don’t think we made the best first impression.

“That’s okay. It’s nice to meet you, Pope,” You said softly, trying off the final stitch. “Even under the circumstances.”

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou @artsymaddie

Pedro Characters Taglist: @coldlilheart @fuck-goes-on

Frankie Morales Taglist: @freeshavocadoooo @fangirl-of-randomness @darnitdraco

#frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #francisco catfish morales

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tainted-wine · 4 years ago

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Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

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Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices.

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey.

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something.

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses.

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club.

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

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8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans.

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.”

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently. Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison.

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you.

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’ You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder.

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out. “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice.

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out.

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace.

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.”

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan.

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear.

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds.

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does.

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort.

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear.

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process.

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut.

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

#smut #present mic #yamada hizashi #present mic x reader #broke: EDM is soulless #woke: EDM steals souls #tw noncon #tw death #tw mind control

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch44: Peanut Butter And Poop

Introducing: Baby Rogers!

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr for the edits. They melted me.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 43

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2020

“Is everything ok?” Steve asked, tiredly. For the fourth time in about two minutes Katie had shifted, next to him, rubbing her hand over her distended belly. She was fed up now, and he wished he could help her get comfy, he really did. But until their baby decided to make an appearance, there wasn’t much more he could do. She had been feeling crappy all day and had thrown a spectacular tantrum at the fact Steve had shaved his stubble. His reasoning being that although she technically had another four weeks to go, she was already at full term size, and if their son arrived, who knew how long it would be before he managed to shave again, but she was having none of it. Steve had simply stood there, calmly whilst she’d ranted and raved about that and everything else she was pissed off about before she’d broken down into tears and apologised, falling into his arms and going on another rant about how shitty she was feeling.

His wife was such a strong person normally, the strongest person Steve knew in fact, but over the last week she’d been up and down mood-wise more than any other time during her pregnancy, and he hated seeing her so uncomfortable and upset. And tonight, she was physically the most uncomfortable he had seen her yet. “Yeah, he’s just kicking.” She sighed, rolling over to face him. “Really hard, Steve. It fucking hurts.” Steve gave her a sympathetic smile as he reached out and pressed his hand to her abdomen, waiting, and then he felt another sharp dig, Katie hissing air out through her teeth.

“Maybe he’s gonna be a footballer.” Steve yawned, attempting to make light of the situation. But it didn’t work. “Well I’m not a football.” She grumbled, pressing her hand to her stomach just above Steve’s. “Pack it in, Buddy, please.”

Co-incidence or not, their baby stopped kicking, but Katie was still restless. She moved again, and again, until finally Steve sat up, flicking on the lamp, his face silently asking her what the issue was. Katie had to smile, there wasn’t a shred of annoyance in his face, despite the fact it was almost one in the morning thanks to her sleep patterns being all over the place. Instead, there was nothing but love and genuine concern across his handsome features and coupled with the fact she was hormonal and just felt a bit shit, she started to cry.

“I’m fed up Steve.” She sniffled. “I’m fat, I had to get Natasha to shave my legs yesterday, I can’t see my feet, I need to pee all the time and…” “Sweetheart,” he chuckled, softly looking down at her, taking his face in her hands, “first off, you’re not fat, you’re pregnant. Very pregnant. With our baby.”

“I know but,” she continued to cry, “I just…”

Whatever it was that she just, Steve never found out as she simply sniffed again and moved so that her head was lay across his lap over the covers of their California king, and he gently stroked her hair. And for a moment he thought he’d managed to sooth her until she gave another groan.

“For fucks sake, I just can’t get comfy.” She sniffled, her sobs coming again as she sat up. “My back and my shoulders…”

Okay, this he could try and help with. Smiling to himself he looked at her. “Assume the position, Doll.” She gave out a watery laugh as she heaved herself over so she was facing away from him. Steve shuffled down so that he was led right behind her and doing the one thing he could to try and get her to feel a little relaxed, he slid his strong hands up her top, his deft fingers gently massaging and rubbing at the spot he knew was sor in her lower back.

“You still feeling funny?” He asked, his fingers working the tight and aching muscles and she nodded.

“Have been all day, but it’s not uncommon apparently. Pepper said she felt iffy for the last four weeks of her pregnancy.” “Four weeks.” Steve mused, his fingers stopping momentarily before he started again. “As if he’s gonna be here in four weeks.” “Well, it could be any time technically. And I hope it is, because frankly, I can’t wait to get him out.” She sighed, as Steve’s hands gently guided her top, well his shirt, over her head so his hands could work at her shoulders and her upper back.

“Hmmm,” he gently swept her hair off her neck so he could plant a soft kiss there. “I can’t wait but I’m gonna miss your bump.” “I’m not,” she scoffed, as his hands crept round to cradle her distended stomach, “and stop feeling him and carry on. Until he’s here this is all about me, remember.” She shrugged her shoulders, emphasizing her message, and he chuckled. “Sorry doll.” Relaxing into his touch, Katie felt herself leaning back against him and then Steve made the best suggestion he had ever made to her in the history of suggestions.

“Why don’t I run you a bath? I know it’s late but Emmy’s at Brooke’s for the evening and it might help.” Katie groaned “God, yes.”

He kissed the back of her neck and threw back the covers, climbing out of the bed, not an inch of tiredness displayed in his body. Despite herself, Katie had to bite back a laugh. He was like a coiled spring at the moment. He had told Rhodey a few weeks ago that he wasn’t travelling anywhere now until the baby was here for fear of missing anything, but as a result that relentless energy which normally went into his work was bubbling inside him, and even his runs every morning and night were doing nothing to help.

Laying back she closed her eyes until she heard him calling and she heaved herself up, taking a moment to steady herself before she rather ungraciously waddled out of the room, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other clamped under the bottom of her bump.

“Give me a hand when you need me to lift you out.” Steve chuckled as he passed her on the hallway and she spun round, glaring at him. “Like last time.” “That’s not funny.”

“No, but it will give me the chance to eye up your naked pregnant body, something I intend to make the most of as it won’t be around for much longer.” “You’re a piece of work, Steven Grant Rogers.” She huffed, as she turned and headed to the bathroom.

Steve settled back on the bed and flicked on the TV. There wasn’t much on but in the end he logged into Netflix and settled for a few re-runs of ‘Brooklyn 99’. The show was absurd, but it was easy watching and he quite liked it, Jake Peralta reminded him in an odd way of a cross between Tony and Thor with his incessant energy and ridiculousness. About halfway through an episode, he was struck with another good idea, and he headed down into the kitchen to make them both a drink, cocoa for him and a ginger and honey tea for Katie. He carried the mug into the bathroom where his wife was slumped in the tub, surrounded by lavender and camomile bubbles, her eyes closed. She looked up at him, one eye open as he walked in, handing her the mug and she let out a soft groan.

“My hero.” She smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her lips before heading back into their room.

It was about another thirty minutes or so when she did call him. He knew she hated this, needing his help, but getting out of the huge tub on her own was simply a physical impossibility. Once he’d helped her out and she was wrapped in a robe, she dropped on the bed, seemingly pacified for a moment until she suddenly wanted peanut butter. Heading into the kitchen, he opened the cupboard and a cold feeling of dread washed over him when he realised they were out.

Fuck, fuck!

He was certain there had been three jars in there this morning. He frantically searched the rest of the kitchen, just in case Katie’s baby-brain had meant she’d stashed it somewhere else, but there as none to be found. Grimacing, he took the stairs two at a time and winced at the look on his wife’s face when he told her she must have eaten it all, before hastily placating her as her eyes watered, reminding her that the twenty-four hour mart was only a five minute drive away.

Which was why he found himself there at twenty-seven minutes past two on a Sunday morning buying six jars of the damned stuff.

Captain America, buying jars of peanut butter at half 2 in the morning for his wife.

Steve smiled to himself, he didn’t give a shit.

“Missus is Pregnant.” He nodded to the man behind the counter, who gave him a look of confusion as he dropped the jars onto the side by the till. The guy laughed, and nodded.

“It was chow-mein with my gal.” He chuckled as Steve handed over the cash. “That was a pain in the ass at four am on a Sunday. Trust me buddy, you got off lightly.”

Thanking his lucky stars that his wife’s craving was, indeed, relatively simple, Steve headed back home and she nearly cried when she took a jar off him and dug in with a spoon. They sat still for another hour, at which point Steve really was ready to fall asleep, and after eating half of a jar in one go, Katie screwed the top back on and set it back on her nightstand, her eyes drooping slightly.

“Think I’m okay now.” She nodded softly and Steve hummed into her hair, reaching up and turning the TV and lamp off and settling them down. She managed about half an hour before she groaned again and heaved herself off to the bathroom, this time for a pee. When she came back she lay facing him, her fingers gently tracing his jaw and he cracked one eye open and they just lay there, watching one another in the dim light.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“What for?”

“Keeping you awake.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward to give her a soft kiss “Honey, it’s fine.”

And it was, it really was. He would be tired tomorrow, he knew that, but he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes and he was on the verge of sleep, teetering between dozing and being fully under when…

“Steve.” Katie whispered softly, and he grinned as he knew that suggestive tone way too well. “I’m horny, now.” “You really know how to pick your moments, Mrs Rogers.” He sniggered a little, opening his eyes, as his mouth met hers again, the slight taste of the peanut butter made him smile even more as both his lips held her bottom one as the kiss lingered.

“Blame your son.” She murmured as she kissed him again, her hands creeping into the back of his hair, eliciting a soft moan from him.

And that was all it took.

Steve was obliging, and kissed every part of her body he could, taking care to avoid the rather tender chest area. It was slow, soft, as their bodies joined in the ever so familiar dance, tangled in the sheets of the bed. As his wife rode him, her large bump not allowing for any other position, Steve’s hands never left the side of her hips, the pair of them groaning loudly as her release took her over the edge and he followed shortly after. They lay there, gently on the bed together, Katie’s back pressed into his chest, for half an hour or so afterwards. Steve’s hand was strong yet gentle over her waist, his hand caressing the place his son was currently dwelling, thumb stroking her stretched skin in soft arcs. And when he felt her finally relaxed, he took a quick glance at the digital clock on the night stand, giving a slight roll of the eyes as he saw it was almost half four in the morning.

****** Katie woke later that morning at little after eight, trying not to groan at the now quite nasty pain in her back. She didn’t even try to go back to sleep, knowing it was utterly pointless. Instead, leaving Steve flat out, exhausted from the nights activities, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a peppermint tea and stuck a heat pack into the microwave, grabbing another jar of peanut butter.

The pains in her back and lower stomach continued to get progressively worse through the morning and along with them so did Katie’s mood. Emmy had called asking to stay at Brooke’s for a bit longer, which suited Steve as it meant he could give Katie his undivided attention, so he agreed and promised to collect her later in the evening.

As they both stood in the kitchen, Katie trying to decide what she wanted for lunch, eventually settling on meatball subs. They began to cook together, something to take Katie’s mind of feeling so uncomfortable, but as she turned to pass Steve the cheese so he could start loading the bread up, a searing pain flashed across her abdomen causing her to give a loud exclamation and clutch at the counter edge with one hand, dropping the packet of grated cheddar from the other.

“Katie?” Steve turned to face her, frowning “Sweetheart?”

She turned into him, curling her fists into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest, with a groan, her forehead digging into his collarbone. He gently held her back, supporting her as she breathed through the pain.

“I - mm.” Katie’s voice was trembling, a combination of fear and excitement. “I thought it was just cramps but now I think…”

Steve understood immediately. And despite all the classes, all the prep, everything, he suddenly felt really, really nervous “What? Now?”

She looked up into his eyes which were wide, in a combination of anticipation and trepidation and laughed. “I think so, yeah.”

Steve went straight into Captain mode. The maternity bag was loaded into the car, Dr Kellet was called who told them to monitor the contractions in frequency and duration, and a bath was run to try and make Katie more comfortable but it didn’t work.

Neither did a soft walk round the block with Lucky.

Four hours later, Katie was stood, bent over the back of the sofa as Steve rubbed her back, helping her breath through another contraction. They were now coming every thirteen minutes and getting far more painful (thanks to Steve’s impeccable time keeping skills for that one) when Katie noticed him step back slightly as she felt a dampness spread across her legs.

Her waters had gone.

“Baby, I think-“ “I know,” she grit her teeth as the pain subsided again. Steve was already on the phone to Dr Kellet and as he thanked her and placed the phone into his pocket he gently placed his hands on the side of his wife’s hips as she straightened up.

“She’s told us to go in.” A smile flickered on his face and despite the pain and stress she was feeling, Katie couldn’t help but find her heart swelling at the excitement on his face.

Steve called Tony, asking him to collect Emmy, then rang the girl herself who squealed with excitement at the fact her brother was on his way. A quick chat to Jennifer’s mum to explain, the woman wishing them both luck, and Katie was in the car and they were off, making quite possibly the most important journey of their lives. Steve drove carefully but determinedly to the Birthing Centre, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, casting glances at Katie every chance he got, and by the time they had arrived twenty minutes later the contractions were arriving five minutes apart.

He helped her change and got her settled in their airey room, his hand curling round hers as she lay back on the bed, both of them pleased to see the familiar face of Dr Kellet as she walked into the room just as another contraction hit Katie. Once it had subsided, Dr Kellet smiled moved to examine her.

“Yes, you’re in active labour Mrs Rogers.” The Doctor smiled. “You have a little while to go yet though so, we’ll try and get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

Katie nodded.

“And you still don’t want an epidural?”

“No.” She shook her head firmly, and Steve raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She’d been adamant that there were no needles going anywhere near her back, not after what HYDRA had done to her, which broke Steve a little when she’d said that to him, not only at the memory of what she’d been through, but also a the fact she was going to be giving birth with little relief.

Three hours later, however, Katie was seriously questioning her decision. She was on all fours on the bed, desperately trying to find some release that the gas and air wasn’t really providing anymore as Steve rubbed her back, feeling utterly helpless.

“I don’t like you-” Katie groaned, her voice cutting off as another wave of pain washed over me. “I don’t you seeing me like this. I don’t like it, you should go”

Go? Not a chance, Doll, he thought to himself as he glanced up at the midwife who simply smiled at him. He leant down so his lips were by Katie’s ear and she turned her head, burying it into his shoulder, as his arms supported hers. “Katie Marie Rogers, I have seen you throw tantrums that rival the ones a two year old could produce, I’ve seen you with a face full of blood and a broken nose, I’ve watched you crawl through a dirty hole in the floor to disarm a bomb, and come out trembling. I’ve seen you scream the house down after spotting a damned spider, I’ve seen you half dead,” the words caught in his throat at the memory, “I’ve seen you shit faced to the point of puking, not to mention that I’ve seen you in every single position going.”

Katie snorted loudly, before gripping at his arm as another wave crashed over her.

“None of that could ever make me love you any less. And, seeing you here now, about to give birth to our boy, well I couldn’t love you anymore if I tried. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

She looked up at him through her tears and he wiped at her face with his thumbs, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before she let out a gasp.

“I need, I need to push.” The panic tone in her voice made Steve glance up at the Doctor as Katie grabbed athis arm. “Steve, I…oh shit, I want to lay back, please, I need-“

“Okay, okay, I got you.” Steve assured her as the Doctor nodded at him to oblige. He gently helped her onto the back as Dr Kellet stood forward.

“You good?” She asked Katie who shot her a scathing look and Steve had to bite back the snort at the fact the Doctor merely raised an eyebrow whereas most people would be quaking in their boots at that infamous Stark glare. Instead, she merely smiled. “Let’s have a look.” Katie grabbed Steve’s hand with a force he didn’t think possible, and it almost made him wince slightly, but he was damned if he was showing her that she was hurting him. As far as he was concerned, she could break every damned finger he had if it meant she was okay, that their son was okay.

“Yep, we’re in business.” The Doctor said, nodding to the midwife that was in the room. “Okay, Mrs Rogers, next time you feel ready to push I want you to do so gently, follow my lead, Steve is gonna help you with your breathing okay?”

And Steve tried, boy did he try. But after twenty minutes of pushing, Katie was pissed off, tired, in agony and just wanted it all to be over.

"You’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” He smiled gently, as he brought her hand up to his lips.

“You are NEVER touching me again.” She grit her teeth and he let out a chuckle, wiping her clammy forehead with one hand.

“Alright, Katie.” The midwife looked at her from the foot of the bed. “Next time, I want a big, strong one. He’s crowning. Chin into your chest…”

“Fuuuuuck…” Katie screamed, another contraction hitting her and she let out a yell, gripping Steve’s hand as she pushed with everything she had.

You’re doing amazing, Katie. Just one more.” Steve dropped a kiss to her forehead, his heart was beating so loud he was sure she would hear it. “Come on, you got this, and I’ve got you, okay?” Another yell, one final push and then…

A piercing scream hit their ears as Katie sagged back on the pillow panting before she looked up, relief crashing over her. Steve was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes wet as he looked at his wife, in awe at how simply amazing and strong she was.

“You did it.” His voice cracked as he kissed her head. “Oh, Baby Girl, you did it.”

“He’s here?” Katie asked, dazed slightly as their baby was placed straight onto her chest, where the buttons at the top of her gown were undone, and instantly the warmth she felt was like nothing she had ever experienced before, her chest filling as she held their baby boy tenderly, tears pouring down her face.

“Oh God.” Steve breathed, his voice cracking, as Jamie was covered with a towel, resting on his wife’s chest, his piercing cries subsiding at the skin to skin contact. Steve rest his head against Katie’s, wiping the tears that had pooled at the end of his nose away, and the pair of them looked down getting their first glimpse of their son.

“Hi, baby!” Katie finally managed to speak, looking down through her tears at the tiny bundle in her arms as his head lay against her chest, making little snuffling noises. “We waited so long for you!”

She finally tore her eyes off the precious bundle and looked up at Steve, his eyes swimming with tears of joy as her own continued to fall down her cheeks. "It’s our boy, Steve.”

“He’s perfect.” Steve whispered again and gently smoothed down the towel with a trembling hand so he could see their baby’s face clearly. Steve instantly noticed he small spattering of dark blonde hair on his head, and there was something distinctly Stark-like about his nose. Then his eyes barely opened, but through them he saw a sliver of beautiful baby blue.

The Soldier’s heart instantly swelled so full he thought it would bust from his chest. He already knew this, but as he looked down at his son, it simply solidified the fact that he would take on the world to protect that little bundle in his wife’s arms, shield or no shield.

They remained wrapped in their own little bubble so much so that neither of them knew what was going on around them. Eventually, their baby was gently taken to the opposite side of the room whilst Katie was cleaned up. He was weighed at 7lb 4, which was, given Steve’s size, rather small but still perfectly healthy. Steve couldn’t help but hover, watching what they were doing with his boy, wincing as they gave him a shot of vitamin K.

“Does he have a name?” The nurse recording his AGPA scores looked up. Steve looked at Katie and she nodded at him.

“James” Steve spoke, his voice croaky. “Jamie.” “Alright.” The nurse scribbled something onto a band which was placed around his wrist before he was wrapped in a clean towel and the midwife looked up at Steve.

“Would you like to take him, Dad?”

Steve nodded, swallowing.“Yeah, yeah I would.” “Okay, well if you’re comfortable doing so, open your shirt, he’ll appreciate the skin to skin contact…”

Steve did was he was told, undoing the four buttons on his dark green Henley and could do nothing but gasp as his son was laid in his arms, tears once more forming in his eyes as he cradled their child to his chest for the first time, awestruck as he brought his lips down to drop gently on his head.

“Hey, Pal.” He whispered unsteadily. “I’m your Dad.”

Katie watched the two of them, more tears springing into her eyes as Steve sat down on the chair next to the bed and she just watched the pair of them, Steve’s eyes not once leaving his boy, who Katie noticed was now trying to burrow into his chest face-first.

“What are you doing, lights too bright for you, Buddy?” He asked softly.

“It’s called rooting.” One of the nurses looked over “He’s wanting to feed. Are you ready to try Mrs Rogers?”

Katie nodded and sat up slightly, as Steve gently handed him over and the midwife helped Katie position him correctly. It took a while, but when he finally latched on and began to suckle, Katie looked down into her baby’s face, trying to memorize the way the tiny hand curled against her skin. Steve leaned close, simply watching, his heart full of a love like nothing he had ever felt before.

“You’re beautiful,” he told Katie suddenly, and she laughed a little, because it was anything but true at that moment in time.

“I think the serum is failing as your eyes are clearly not working properly.” She retorted, glancing up at him.

“I mean it,” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her temple. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And look what you made!”

She glanced down at Jamie, who was feeding enthusiastically and smiled. “What we made…” “Yeah but you cooked him.” Steve’s finger slid under her chin so that she was looking back up at him, and he held her gaze, driving his words home. “Thank you.”

Katie leaned into his touch as his palm caressed her cheek. Carefully, he moved to sit on the bed beside her, guiding her head against his shoulder and gathering his family into very gentle embrace, his eyes not once leaving his baby.

"I love you,” he whispered into her hair - and he didn’t budge from that spot until Jamie was done nursing and Katie was then escorted to the toilet. In there she changed out of the gown and into a pair of pyjamas and returned from the en-suite of their private room, with a tired smile on her face to see that Steve, had dug out a baby grow. Katie watched as he placed their son in the cot by the end of the bed, with infinite tenderness, and the new parents dressed him for the first time.

“I suggest you both get some sleep whilst you can.” Dr Kellet smiled, peering into the cot where Jamie was now yawning, eyes drooping. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. If you need anything though, just hit the call button and one of the Midwives will come in. Congratulations.” Steve and Katie both thanked her as Katie headed over to the bed, dropping exhaustedly onto it.

“You should go get some rest.” She yawned and Steve shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you.” Steve snapped a quick photo of the sleeping baby before settling on the bed as Katie lay her head on his chest. “Not a chance.”

It wasn’t long before she had fallen asleep, exhausted, and Steve sat up slightly, firing the photo off to Tony, Emmy, Nat and Rhodey. The replies of congratulations flooded in, along with a selfie of Tony, Pepper and Emmy on Tony’s sofa with their thumbs up. Steve snorted, it was almost two am now, but he knew that Tony and Emmy would be too excited to sleep. He placed his phone back on the night stand and settled down next to his wife, his hand straying into her hair. A little sniffling noise came from the cot at the side of the bed and Steve sat up, to check on him, but Jamie was sleeping soundly so he relaxed back, taking a deep breath.

He was in way over his head, and there was no planning for this mission, not one bit. But Steve found he didn’t mind. As he dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, he closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh knowing full well that the 7th March 2020 was a date he was never going to forget.

****

Katie opened her eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room which was lowly lit from a chink of light flooding in under the door. She sat up so quickly that her head spun, and she dropped back against the pillow, taking a deep breath. Then her eyes caught the man in the chair by her bed, and the memory of the night before came back. At some point in the night Jamie had woken for a feed but post it wouldn’t stop fussing and Katie’s half-conscious attempts to soothe him had failed. Steve had at that point stepped in and taken him, insisting that she get some rest as he paced the room with his son, gently rocking him to and fro. Her husband was now leaned back in the chair by her bed fast asleep, their little boy slumbering on his dad’s chest, secured by Steve’s large, gentle hands. Katie felt her heart swell and she grabbed her phone, noting that the time was only a little after 6:30 am, meaning that it was only two hours or so since his feed. She took a quick snap, contemplated taking Jamie back to his crib before she decided he was fine where he was. Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Glancing at her two boys, she sank deeper into her pillow, quietly satisfied, as she drifted back off into a light sleep.

Steve was woken by a soft cry about forty-five minutes later, and despite his best attempts Jamie wouldn’t settle.

“Sorry, Doll.” he looked at Katie as she woke, blinking as she pushed herself up. “I think he’s hungry and I can’t help him in that department.” With a smile she took their baby and began to nurse him again, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing. Once he was fed, the midwives appeared and offered them breakfast which they gratefully accepted and then Katie positively moaned when she was told she could shower. She was dried off an and in a clean set of Pyjamas just in time for visiting hours which started at ten.

At one minute past there was a knock on the door to their room.

“Hey Mommy and Daddy!” Pepper peering round the door clutching a huge blue balloon as Tony followed, Morgan in her stroller. The tot squealed when she saw Steve who stood up to greet them as Emmy flew into the room, locking her arms around Steve’s waist. He dropped a kiss to her head and looked up as Natasha stepped in hot on their tail.

”Congratulations Cap.” Tony beamed, shaking Steve’s hand before he pulled him into an embrace. Katie smiled up at her family, Jamie clutched in her arms having just been fed again as Tony moved and stepped up to the bed, kissing the top of his sister’s head as he peered down at his nephew.

“Well done, Kiddo.” he whispered softly and she smiled at him.

Pepper was next to congratulate her, then Natasha and finally Emmy who gave her brother an appraising look. “Hmmm takes after you, Dad.” She smirked up at Steve. “Where else is he gonna get a face like that?” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up from where he had been crouched saying hello to Morgan. He glanced at Tony who was peering down at his nephew, a huge grin on his face.

“He’s beautiful, guys.” Tony said and Katie smiled up at her brother and he made a gesture with his arms. “Can I?”

Katie nodded, and moved to gently pass him over, and Tony took him in his arms with a soft chuckle.

“Hey, Champ.” He beamed down as Jamie moved softly in his arms, kicking slightly. “How’s it going?”

“How are you feeling?” Pepper asked, looking at Katie.

“Tired but, I’m good.”

“So, does he have a name yet?” Tony looked at Katie and Steve took a deep breath, his arms crossing over his chest. If truth be told, he was a little nervous about revealing the name they had chosen, Bucky wasn’t Tony’s favourite person, but before he could answer he spotted Katie giving Emmy a small wink.

“Horatio Montgomery Rogers.” Katie nodded. “Monty for short.” There was a pause whilst Pepper, Tony and Nat all exchanged a look and Steve bit on his lip.

“That’s…” Tony began, searching for words as he glanced down at the baby in his arms before he finally settled on, “…unusual”

Emmy looked at Katie again before they but out laughing.

“I can’t believe you fell for that, Uncle Tony!” Emmy cackled. “Such an idiot.”

“I resent that.” Tony pouted and Natasha cleared her throat.

“So what is his name?” Nat pressed. Katie looked at Steve and gave him a nod.

“James Anthony Samuel Rogers” Steve took a deep breath as Tony blinked. “Jamie for short.” “James Anthony Samuel.” Tony whispered looking down at Jamie. “James. Anthony?” His eyes locked onto Katie’s, then Steve’s, before they flicked back down to his nephew. “You actually named him after me?”

Katie smiled. “Yeah, guess we did”

“And I was only joking too.” His voice choked as Natasha, stepped forward to peer down at the baby in his arms. “But the James is after Barnes, right?” She looked up. Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flickered to Tony who was simply gazing down at his nephew with adoration as Katie answered.

“There’s so many people we’ve both known or know with the name James.” She shrugged. “Rhodey, half the Howling Commandos, but yes, Bucky was one big reason, another was Grandad Jim.” Tony looked up at her, smiling, his eyes wet. “Yeah, Grandpa Jim was pretty awesome”

“And so is his uncle-slash-grandpa.” She smiled and Tony gave a loud sniffle.

“Wrap it up Kiddo, you’re killing me” He shook his head as he turned to Natasha. “We’ll call that one a draw.”

Steve rolled his eyes, as Natasha shrugged. “Suppose you can’t be wrong all the time, Shell-Head.”

Jamie was passed around, and Emmy finally got to have a hold as she sat in the chair, Steve crouched by her side as she peered down at the baby. But when it was Natasha’s turn, the red head grew almost as emotional as Tony as she held him and he curled his tiny hand around her finger.

“Good job he likes you.” Katie smiled at her, “you know, seeing as you’re gonna be his god-mother and all…” “Me?” Nat’s head whipped up and she looked at Katie, then Steve, her eyes full of tears. “I mean…” “Well, there’s no one else for the job so it kinda falls to you by default.” Steve teased from where he was perched on the arm of the chair.

“You’re such a douche.” Emmy muttered, elbowing Steve in the ribs and Tony’s face split into a grin.

“Kid, you have no idea…did you know his nickname is Spangles?” “Spangles?” she grinned and Steve groaned

“No one calls him Spangles other than Tony, because Tony is an idiot.” Katie shook her head.

At that point, Jamie let out a huge shriek and Natasha promptly crossed the room to hand him back to his momma, who placed him over her shoulder and he nuzzled into her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw line. As she looked around the room, her eyes locked onto Steve’s and he gave her, quite possibly, the most affectionate look she could ever recall him giving her. And at that moment, although they were surrounded by their friends and family, she felt like the only woman in the world.

*****

Thankfully as everything had gone as well as expected they were discharged later that day and they could go home. Steve, having practiced about a billion times, expertly clipped Jamie’s car seat into the base of the Porche SUV they had borrowed from Tony a few weeks ago (the Camero just wasn’t baby friendly) and Katie climbed into the back, positioning herself in the middle seat so she was by their son for the drive home.

Emmy had gone back to Tony’s to give them the evening to settle in, and with Lucky also with them, when Katie and Steve walked into the house, Steve carefully carrying the car seat containing the most precious cargo he had ever carried, it struck them that they were suddenly on their own.

With a baby.

Steve set the car seat on the coffee table in the lounge and the two of them sat on the couch, looking at their baby before they looked at one another, neither of them having a clue what to do next.

Thankfully, a piercing scream from Jamie jolted them out of the stupor and dictated exactly what they needed to do. As Katie set about feeding him, Steve headed into the kitchen to make them something to eat and by eight pm the pair of them were whacked and ready for bed but Jamie had other ideas. It took a lot of pacing, frustrated sighs and prayers but he finally settled a few hours later and the new parents crawled between their sheets, exhausted, frustrated and feeling like they were embarking on a mission which was far bigger than any they had faced before.

*****

Steve heard his wife get up, but didn’t register why. Not at first. He dozed for another half hour or so before he heard a cry and he sat upright, looking around. He blinked, saw the empty crib at the side of the bed and smiled to himself. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed the bag he’d had waiting for weeks out of the back of his closet before he headed down the stairs.

Katie was sat on the sofa in one of his button downs, her bare legs crossed, munching on a piece of toast when he paused in the door to the lounge taking in the scene. The domesticity of it all hit him for a moment and he felt himself welling up, he’d never in his wildest dreams dared to imagine he would ever be this damned lucky. But here he was, gorgeous wife, beautiful baby…

At that point, Jamie started fussing and she instantly placed her hand on his tummy whilst he lay in the wicker Moses basket in front of her, gently hushing him, all the while a look on her face of infinite tenderness. As he settled she smiled, simply gazing at their boy for a moment before she looked up and smiled at Steve. He walked over to her and dropped a soft, lingering kiss to her lips and she smiled.

“Morning.” She whispered and he smiled against her mouth, kissing her again before his attention turned to his boy and he gently reached into the basket, his finger softly running down his son’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” “Could you feed him?” Katie grinned and Steve let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

“No, suppose not.” He looked at Katie and nodded to Jamie “Can I?”

“Steve, honey, he’s your son. Of course you can.” He placed the bag he was holding on the coffee table, Katie still not noticing it, as he reached into the basket and gently picked his son up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie buried his face into his neck, still sleeping. Steve gently moved to sit on the couch and Katie watched the pair of them, smiling softly.

“That’s for you.” He nodded to the Tiffany bag. Katie glanced at, blinking in surprise before she frowned slightly.

“What for?”

“Well it used to be a tradition to buy your wife something after your first child and Tony assured me it still was so…”

She beamed at him and reached over for the bag. As Steve cradled his boy close he watched his wife pull out the blue ring box and open it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the platinum Eternity band which was studded with sapphires and diamonds.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, turning to him and leaning over to give him a soft kiss. “Thank you.” Steve beamed at her and watched as she rejigged the rings on her wedding finger so she could place it in between her wedding and her engagement ring. She flashed her hand at him to show him what it looked like on.

“Looks good.” He smiled “I clearly have good taste.” “Of course you do, you chose me.” ****

“Come here.”

Steve turned to look at Katie who was on the other side of their bedroom and he frowned. “What?”

“Just come here.”

Steve crossed the room towards her where she grabbed the bottle of his aftershave and sprayed an amount to his neck.

“What are you…” he frowned as she stood up to take a deep sniff.

“Oh thank God!” She groaned. “I can sniff you again without feeling sick!”

Steve snorted, and shook his head, a grin on his face as Katie began to spray the Hugo Boss around the room, sniffing and smiling to herself before she stopped and grimaced.

“Oh, that’s…” She looked down at the crib and Steve did the same.

“Oh.” Steve wrinkled his nose

“Your turn, Daddy.” She patted his back. “I’m going for a shower.” Steve looked at her, slightly panicked as Jamie began to let out a soft cry “What, alone?” “Don’t tell me Captain American can’t deal with a bit of poop.”

“It’s not that. I might do it wrong or…” “Steve, relax, what’s the worst that can happen?” She eyed him, as he bit his lip, watching his reaction carefully. Whilst he had been amazing that night in the hospital, once they had gotten home and away from the safety net of midwives, she had fast realised that Steve had suddenly grown incredibly nervous when it came to their baby, asking permission to pick him up, wind him, cuddle him and Katie was keen to nip that in the bud right away. She knew he wanted to help as much as possible and she didn’t want him to constantly be second guessing everything he did.

“I err…” Steve stuttered and she cut him off. “You saw me before.” She shrugged, heading into the en-suite. “You’ll be fine.”

Steve watched her go and then peered down at his son, swallowing slightly before he picked him up and took him into the nursery. As soon as the baby-grow was off, Jamie still crying slightly, Steve suddenly felt completely inadequate. Cursing to himself, he laid Jamie gently on the changing mat, wrinkling his nose and trying to shut out the scream that was ringing round his ears. At that point he was seriously starting to believe that this was worse than facing off against thirty HYDRA agents single headedly. Taking a deep breath and telling himself to get it together, he managed to clean Jamie, get a fresh diaper on, and then once he was dressed again, he picked the baby up.

“Come on, Pall.” He soothed softly, his large hand gently smoothing his son’s back as he walked over to look out of the bedroom window “You know, that there is the best city in the world,” he glanced over the Brooklyn skyline, “one day I’ll show you all the places I used to go, tell you all about my life and the Rogers clan, and who you’re named after. Take you to meet your Grandma…”

He stopped talking as he realised Jamie had fallen silent, and was now relaxed completely against him, his face gently pressed against his shoulder. “Thass ma boy.” He whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. He turned to see Katie was stood in the doorway, her hair damp as she was wrapped in a towel gown.

“See.” she smiled as she crossed the room towards them both. “I told you it would be okay.” She gently smoothed a hand over the baby boy’s head before dropping a kiss to his crown.

“Should I put him down to sleep now?” Steve asked and Katie looked at him.

“Do you want to put him down?”

“Not really.” Steve admitted, with a little smile. “You gonna drop him?” “Shut up.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” “Then no, you don’t have to put him down.” Katie smiled “He’s your baby, Steve. If you wanna cuddle him, cuddle him.” “Sorry, I’m fussing again ain’t I?” Steve sighed.

Katie gently stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips. “Fussing is fine, just don’t doubt yourself. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do, but we’ll figure it out.”

Steve smiled, as he gave her a soft kiss. “I still swear you can read minds.”

“No, I can just read you.” She corrected. “Now, before you go get Emmy, can I leave you whilst I take a quick nap? He’s gonna want a feed soon and I’m so tired. ”

Steve looked at his wife, then to his son who was perfectly content, his little nose and mouth now resting firmly against Steve’s collar bone. He smiled back at Katie and gave her another soft kiss.

“Think we’ll be okay.”

**** Chapter 45

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years ago

Text

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s - Hailey Upton x Kim Burgess - Strain

written by @anotheronechicagobog

Instead of her alarm clock, it was the sound of retching in the bathroom that woke Kim up. She sighed, pinching her brows together. She didn’t need to ask why Hailey didn’t wake her up when she wasn’t feeling well, she’d been dating her long enough to know the answer. She grabbed a glass of water, a ginger ale from the fridge and a hair tie from their dresser. After tying back Hailey’s knotted and sweaty hair she sat on the bathtub next to her, rubbing her back. “Do you think you’re well enough to try some water? A ginger ale? We should get some fluids into you.”

“I’m-”

“And don’t you dare say that you’re ‘fine’.”

“... Let me wash out the taste of vomit in my mouth and then I’ll try the ginger ale.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Hailey, you know that-”

“No, I really just... Thank you. For taking care of me, for loving me, for everything. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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The ginger ale did not help, nor did the medicine she’d been able to keep down. Her fever spiked, she was so flushed her skin was an irritated pink, she’d gotten dizzy, and she started to hallucinate a talking dog wearing a lion costume. Kim had managed to corral her into the car but nothing, not even Dr. Choi when they got to MED, could calm her down. Her fiance was getting sicker and sicker and nothing was going to be able to quell the panic and fear inside of her. So she sat at Hailey’s beside, curled up in an awful chair, letting her tears flow freely as she cradled the hand of her unconscious soulmate. “Hey, Kim. I got your text. And pizza for you.”

“Pizza, Jay? Really?”

“Hailey would maim me if she found out I didn’t take care of you when she couldn’t. Seriously, we actually made a pact. So eat your food, drink this bottle of water and get ready to be fussed over. She’s gonna make it.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my best friend, we’ve been through so much together that there’s no other option for me. She’s going to make it, she has to.”

“She has to.”

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Hailey had woken up the next day, but only momentarily. She’d mumbled something about dancing tulips and promptly passed out again. Kim and Jay laughed lightly at her expense, but they were mostly just relieved that she was getting better. Her fever was down and according to Dr. Choi that was really good news. They wouldn’t be able to tell if the dizziness or nausea had dissipated until she woke up, but the fact that she was waking up was amazing. She’d caught a nasty strain of the flu, it was so bad and unusual that the CDC had to get involved. Study her treatment, interview close friends, get samples from Hailey. The works. They were actually starting to get pretty concerned about all the blood tests and tissue samples they needed when Will showed up with an explanation, the strain of flu that Hailey has isn’t from the U.S. so it was slightly different than the strains they’re used to treating, at that point they were just trying to determine where it was from and if they needed to be concerned about an outbreak.

So Kim and Jay calmed down a bit. They were still worried, but having Will there to decipher all of the doctor speak, it was a little easier. When her fever broke they were approached by one of the CDC doctors who had been observing Hailey’s case. They could both tell from the look on her face that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. “Detectives Burgess and Halstead, I’m afraid I have bad news. We have determined the origin of the strain that has infected Detective Upton. It’s from England, and it’s a unique strain because it appears to have been formed overtime from a few different strains from different countries, not uncommon in people who travel frequently without adequate vaccinations. We have determined a course of action, but unfortunately might be too late. The antibiotics that she needs need to start being taken within 72 hours. It’s been 61. And the closest antibiotics we could get are in London, England. It’s an eight hour flight and they have to go through customs and the FDA and they just might not get here in time. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. She can’t- Why- No-” Tears were streaming down Kim’s face and she fell back into her chair. “This can’t be happening, we’re supposed to be together, have more time together. More time. Just a little more time, please.” Jay was standing beyond Kim’s chair, watching with a fractured soul as she stroked his best friend’s face and begged her to wake up. When suddenly, it dawned on him. “Dr. Tamara, do the antibiotics have to arrive on a commercial plane?”

“Well, no, but a private plane wouldn’t be faster and would cost a lot more money.”

“What about a military plane?” Hope was starting to creep into his desperate features, and instead of meeting sorrowful silence, he was met with mirroring spirits. “I don’t have those kinds of connections to make that happen, but if you do that would absolutely work.”

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Jay managed to get the antibiotics on a military passenger/cargo flight from London to Chicago, almost halving the time everything would’ve taken. Kim hadn’t stopped hugging and thanking him since he got off the phone with an air force buddy he’d done a couple of operations with while he was in the rangers. The meds had been given with four hours to spare, so now both detectives were just a pile of nerves, antsy to see Hailey open her eyes. “For the last time Kim, you don’t need to thank me. Hailey’s important to me too, okay? I haven’t been holding onto that ring for her for the past four months for nothi- Shit.”

“... Ring?”

“Yes.”

“An engagement ring?”

“Yeah.” Kim turned back to the love of her life, happiness shining through for the first time in days, “you better wake up, Hailey Ann Upton. How am I gonna say ‘yes’ if you don’t even ask me?”

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Hailey woke up, and was lucid. Kim and Jay were trying so hard not to overwhelm her. So when Intelligence and firehouse 51 had stopped by they just smiled gratefully and accepted all of the get-well-soon gifts that were offered and sending everyone on their way. When Jay re-entered the hospital room after accepting a batch of cookies and containers of lasagna from the ever angelic Cindy Hermann, he found Kim and Hailey curled up in bed together. Smiling, whispering and just enjoying being in each other’s arms again. Kim blushed at his chuckles and Hailey grinned sheepishly. “I needed a cuddle from my favourite girl, Jay, what can I say?”

“She gave me her puppy-dog eyes. I had no choice.”

“Yeah,” he looked at Kim meaningfully, implying her to remember their conversation about Hailey’s not-so-secret intentions, “you didn’t really stand a chance.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay dropped the two women off at their apartment a week later after Hailey had finally been discharged. “Thanks for dropping us off Jay, I appreciate it. And Hailey, you still have to take it easy, I’ll go put your hospital bag away and order some food and after Jay heads out we’ll have a Mamma Mia! Marathon, okay?”

“Alright, well my work here is almost done then.” He was met with two sets of raised eyebrows, so he turned his teasing smirk to his partner. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get up unsupervised while Kim’s in the other room.”

“Smart thinking, Halstead.”

“Hey! I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Kim jogged to the bedroom in a fit of laughter, leaving Hailey and Jay alone for a few moments. Jay leaned his body out to look down the hallway and make sure that Kim was out of earshot before he turned back to Hailey. She looked better than she did before, her pallor was back to normal, her eyes were vibrant, and she was glowing in happiness and relief, though her movements were still lapsed and slow. Jay reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the navy velvet ring box and placed it into her confused but waiting hand. “I accidentally let it slip when you were in the hospital. You should’ve seen her face when she caught on, she loves you. So much, and if these past couple of weeks have taught us anything, it’s that you don’t have the time you think you do. Ask her, she’ll say yes. I guarantee it.” After a one-armed hug with a shocked Hailey, Jay shouted a goodbye to Kim before taking his leave.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’d finished the first movie and were about to put in the second, but Hailey hadn’t even noticed, she’d spent most of that time staring at Kim.

“Hails? Are you okay? Do I need to call Dr. Tamara?”

“I... I’ve tried writing speeches and planning exactly what to say, but I can’t because you’re too amazing to capture with words. Nothing ever seems good enough. And I have to be honest, I love that, because it means that I love you so much I can’t even fully comprehend it. And I know that you feel the same way, too. Kim, will you marry me?”

Hailey revealed the box from behind her and opened it up to show her the ring. Her heart was hammering in chest so hard and she just couldn’t force her eyes away from Kim’s face and the wistful tears accumulating in her eyes that mixed with the beaming smile she just loved to see.

“Yes!”

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #chicago med #hailey upton #kim burgess #jay halstead #will halstead #hailey upton x kim burgess

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pink-peony-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Months on the making

"Please?" My best friend Ashley, begged, chasing me around the dorm room.

"I don't know," I sighed flopping down on the sofa and switching the TV on. It was 3 in the afternoon so there wasn't much on, but the aimless chatter was enough to block out the whining coming from my roommate.

"Please, please, please, I'll clean the toilet for a month, and you can use my Netflix and steal my lecture notes," she added. I looked at her laughing slightly as she got down on her knees and literally begged me. "Who knows," she added when I didn't respond. "It is a cross facility party, so you might even see some cute guys there, cute doctors," she added.

"Shawn won't be there, there's no way, he's a week out from starting his residency," I stated as if this ended it.

"Who said anything about Shawn?" She smirked, getting up. "You're coming!" She called, walking into the kitchen and returning with snacks. "I mean come on! It's not like you two haven't been sussing each other out all semester ever since you worked in that group project for communications, I mean it's clear you like each other, he's even told his buddies, make your move girl, he's perfect for you!" She encouraged.

"He sure is that," I agreed, dazed just thinking about him. He was tall and built, with broad shoulders, and soft brown curly hair, an award-winning smile and charm to boot. On top of all that he was a really nice guy. No one seemed to have a bad word to say about him.

Two hours later we walked into the party, and I was immediately taken aback by how many people were here. "I'm going to get a drink," Ashley yelled over the music. I nodded turning around, coming across the one face I didn't want to see.

"Oh shit, Hayden is here," I hissed, running to catch up to Ashley.

"Just try to ignore him, he's a douche!"

The night was going well and despite myself, I'd even started to relax and enjoy myself, Ashley had even managed to get Shawn and I talking, not that we didn't flirt with each other whenever we saw one another, but we never really got to have a real conversation- about the more meaningful stuff. We talked about everything from the way Ashley and Brian his best friend were flirting shamelessly, why he chose to live on campus even though he could have chosen to take his last few pre-residency classes online having successfully completed his residency year and what he was looking forward to most.

I was on a real high- he was so easy to talk to (and flirt with)- he'd even suggested we go out for breakfast which immediately got my heart racing. The thought of going out with Shawn-alone, was thrilling.

This changed however, when Shawn declared that he was going to get a drink and Ashley announced she was going to the bathroom, leaving me on the patio where we'd been chatting all alone. I heard the door go, expecting it to be one of them back already, but when I turned, I found Hayden, sauntering over to me, a disturbing smirk on his face. A third-year sports major, med school drop out Hayden was a class A arsehole that would try to get with any girl he could-everyone knew that. He'd had more security warnings than anyone else in our year and he'd decided that his latest challenge was me. It had started in communications class which all journalism, med and sports science majors took- along with a few others so it wasn't uncommon to run into people from other courses. Basically, if you had to talk to people as part of your career, you took the class.

But when I'd told him I wasn't interested, like so many others in the class before me had, he took that as a challenge and had made my life a living hell for the past three months.

"So Kenzie, you finally come to your senses?" He slurred, coming to stand mere inches from my face, his breath stunk of stale beer.

"Go shove it," I spat instinctively taking a step back in an effort to put some distance between us.

"Careful Kenz, you don't have your little pozzie with you now." He grabbed my wrist, slamming me into the side of the building, knocking the wind out of me. I could already feel where the rough stone was cutting into my exposed skin of my back, wrist aching.

"Get off me!" I yelled again, moving to push him away. This only seemed to anger him further though.

"Man she said to leave her alone, " another voice spoke, "so leave her alone." The figure was tall and it was only when they stepped into the light that I realised it was Shawn. Relief flooded me.

"What are you doing here Mendes? Come to protect your girl?" He taunted.

"Stopping a dickhead from doing something stupid," He spoke cooly, a new drink in his hand.

"Wait, what's your degree again, oh yeah...medicine, well let's see how good you really are!" He spoke, pulling me into him by my already pained limb and then thrusting me backward again, smashing me into the wall and ripping my dress in the process leaving me exposed and vulnerable. The relief I had felt moments earlier was replaced with terror.

My head was spinning, a dull ache starting at the base of my scalp, my legs gave out and I found myself on the ground, a shivering, shaking mess.

"Someone call security to come get this piece of shit out of here," Shawn called to the group of people that had assembled at the commotion before crouching down beside me.

"Are you okay, Kenz?" He asked, looking me up and down. I was in too much pain to care that he or anyone else was seeing me practically naked.

"Kenzie, Kenzie oh my God!" Ashley yelled, coming to a skidding halt beside me.

"Give me your coat," Shawn spoke urgently gesturing to the woollen material Ashely had wrapped around her. She handed it over quickly, allowing him to wrap it around me carefully.

"Brian, come help me get her up and inside," he called when he realised his friend had returned.

"We're just going to help you stand up okay?" Shawn spoke gently. Taking my hand.

"Owwww, owww, stop!" I begged, feeling another wave of dizziness and nausea wash over me.

"Right come here," He spoke, picking me up in one gentle but fluid movement. I closed my eyes then, but I could feel people pointing and starting as we made our way through the house and out into the night air. The breeze was cool and dry, bringing me to my senses a little more.

"Out of the way people. I'm half a mind just to take her to the hospital, " He muttered to Ashley and Brian who I could hear trailing behind.

"She won't like that, can't you check her out yourself?" Ashley pleaded and I silently thanked the heavens that I had a friend like her.

"I mean, I could, but if I think she needs to go to the hospital once I look her over, we go, " he bargained.

As we walked for what seemed like ages the pain only intensified my side now throbbing horribly. I was almost certain I was going to be sick when we came to a sudden stop, the lock on a door clicking open.

"Brian get the first aid kit and my bag?" Shawn asked, moving rapidly through space and placing me down onto what felt like a bed.

"Kenz, Kenzie, open your eyes for me, honey." He urged, tapping my arm. With great effort to fight the increasing lethargy, I opened my eyes, blinking furiously at the bright lights that stung my eyes overhead.

"Where are we?" I whispered, trying to ignore the pain- I felt like a life-sized ache.

"We're in my dorm room. I wanted to go to the hospital, but Ash said you may not like that so I brought you here. I have the stuff to treat you here, providing you don't need any further testing, " He explained, kneeling beside my bed as I looked around. I made the mistake of trying to get up, and immediately regretted it when my ribs protested angrily.

"Easy, easy, he warned his expression one of sympathy and concern. "Stay there Kenz, I'll move you if need be. Do you remember what happened?" He asked, glancing down at me with a soft smile. I nodded, somewhat reassured by Shawn's warmth and competency.

"Hayden, " My voice was hoarse from the shouting earlier. He nodded.

"Good, that's a good sign."

He stood up, reaching for several items by the door- the first aid kit and a bag- no doubt the one's he had asked Brian to retrieve.

"Where are you hurting?" He asked, looking me up and down, appraising my injuries. Just this small action made the tears I had been holding back, spillover, a mixture of pain, fear, relief and embarrassment. "Hey, hey, you're okay. Shhh, you don't need to cry, " He murmured, taking my hand gently in his, immediately enveloping me with warmth. I had known I liked him for months now, and every time we interacted this was affirmed more by small things he would do or say- getting me my favourite coffee before early morning tutes, offering to walk me to class. Yet somehow this felt so much more intimate and I almost forgot where we were until Ashley cleared her throat.

"Do- do you wanna help her change and we'll come back in a minute. You can have one of my shirts." Shawn spoke shaking his head as if clearing a fog as he got up and threw a soft sweater at the bed.

I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice.

"A little help?" I asked Ashley, when the door closed.

"Girl he is smit-ten, She sang, coming over to help undo the ripped material of my dress."

"Shut up! He's probably just outside the door,"

I hissed, wanting very much to hit her over the head, but not wanting to move again for fear of pain.

The shirt smelled like him- a mix of Sandalwood and some sort of earthy, almost woodsy tone.

"You can come back in, " She called when I was decent again and laying back on the bed.

Thankfully Shawn was extremely professional, acutely aware of the strange situation and my escalated anxiety. Asking permission before so much as taking my pulse.

When he got to my ribs, he stopped, barely touching the bottom of the sweater.

"May I?" I nodded, sucking in a huge breath as the anticipation of pain (and Shawn's touch) over whelmed me. I could help, but hold my breath, as he gently palpated the area, feeling in and around my ribs. "Nothing feels broken, " He commented, after a little bit.

"So no hospital?" I asked praying he agreed. His brow furrowed. I would still feel better if you saw a fully licensed doctor. I'll call my mate okay. Connor, he's really chilled," He spoke, pushing some baby hairs off my face. "In the meantime let's get these cuts and bruises sorted, " He smiled.

Not much was said for the next half an hour, Shawn working quietly and efficiently. The only time I felt any pain was when he and Ashley had to sit me up so he could clean and disinfect my back. My wrists he said, although badly bruised and about eight differ ent shades of purple would heal on their own.

I was just starting to get sleepy, Shawn tapping me every so often to keep me awake when there was a soft knock at the door, before a man around Shawn's age, maybe a few years older walked in.

"Kenzie is it? I'm Connor, he introduced himself with a smile. "Shawn told me what happened, is it okay if I have a look at your head."

I nodded, trusting him, because Shawn trusted him. And honestly I just wanted, no needed, sleep.

Like Shawn his assessment was thourough, but quick. "You can lay back again, " he murmured as he finished checking me over, putting his penlight back in his pocket and pulling his gloves off.

"So?" Shawn asked, looking between me and his friend.

Connor sighed, "Yeah, you're right, she does have a small concussion, you know the drill, rest, lots of fluids, wake her every hour. He got you good, I'm sorry to say, " he grimaced. "Is someone staying with her?" He asked looking between me, Shawn and Ashley.

"I could stay, I mean, if you're okay with that?"Shawn spoke looking to me.

I shrugged, hissing as the action, pulled at my ribs.

"Okay, it's settled then, " Ashley clapped, a sly smile on her face, which I could just see past Shawn's torso blocking most of my view as he sat beside me.

Brian and Ashley stayed for a little longer, chatting quietly between themselves as I lay there half awake, and exhausted, but unable to sleep. When Shawn declared that it was time for them to go, because the 'patient' needed rest (this got a glare), Ash tried to kick up a stink, no doubt hoping to witness more content with which she could hold over my head. Shawn however wasn't having it, and insisted they come back tomorrow.

"Finally, some peace, jeez, my head hurts," I laughed, again regretting it.

"Here, take these." He handed me some tablets and a bottle of water. Sitting beside the bed on a chair, which he had pulled from the desk across the room. "It's been one hell of a night! I'll have to take you out to make up for it, " He spoke casually.

I turned, surprised, not quite sure I believe what I was hearing.

"Like a date?" I sqeeked out, feeling my face flush.

"I mean, I just thought..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

"I'd like that," I smiled.

Get some rest and when you're better we'll organise something, it's been months in the making. Don't think I haven't noticed the way Ashley's been 'accidently' having to talk to the professor in comms class leaving us alone." He smiled.

I blushed, just thinking about it, damn, he was more perceptive than I thought. "Don't tease me, I'm sore, and tired, " I grumbled.

"I'm here if you need me, Honey, " He spoke, my heart swelling the nickname.

"Thank you, Shawn, "I spoke reaching for his hand as I finally fell to sleep.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

Note

Hey lovely! I wanted to ask you if you could write something about Roman and ivar (surprise I know) being best buddies and wanting to see who is the better lover so they make a bet who can get the reader first to bed to ultimately decide this question! She being definitely more clever having knowledge of this and plays with the guys (who not know of her knowing about this bet) so they do dumb stuff for her to get her in bed! And falling in love during the process...

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I know I said I would be taking a break and I am actually going to disappear a bit after I publish it (I just felt guilty to have answered every ask, except this one, mostly because it is from one of the people who have always supported me!).

I also wanted to let you know that the break will last at least a week (the one of Christmas, since I don’t want to pass it, thinking about notes), I personally I am not sure that I will be writing again or publishing, because I don’t feel very much comfortable and sure, but I’ll wait and see.

Thank you for everyone who reached out, I am answering anything later, if not tomorrow because I am a bit sleepy/tired, but thank you I thoroughly accept it!

Also I am well aware that this might be a bit differen from what you wanted, but I just loved the ideas and I felt like it completely matched with your idea, but if it isn’t enough, I’ll write it again as soon as I am off the break!

Have a nice day!

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex/Nudity, Blasphemous Talk/Incubus.

The slick shadow-y man hovered over the sleeping figure, the blanket having rolled a bit down with her agitated sleep, the soft shoulder strap of her lily-white nightgown having slipped off her shoulder due to the its movements, revealing a rather large portion of heated skin.

He gently sat onto the side of the bed she was facing, having a chance to look at her beautiful face: the lips pursued in a sleepy pout, meanwhile the hair cornered lightly her reddish face.

The heat of that Spring night definitely uncommon.

But Roman was rather happy for it, since you had left the window open for him to be welcomed in.

He gently moved closer to her, his movement slow and methodic, in order not to wake her up: that would have definitely spoiled his entertainment of the night.

He reached to gently push a few strands of hair away from his face, to highlight the beautiful feature of the perfect face she owned, a naïve innocence being pictured on it in the most delicate way the moon could shine on her face.

He then leaned down, his lips almost touching her puffy ones, almost swollen due to the sleep, in that kiss he had been desiring desperately since the first time he had wandered into her, the sweet daughter of the pastor who had recently transferred to the town.

He still remembered when he had seen the entire family move in and then the eldest daughter had exited the chariot: the modest cotton dress a little short, for the constant washes, alongside lightly sheer, revealing some rather scorching pieces of her body.

She had clutched close to you your little luggage, as if she was the most jealous about that poor baggage, pushing it behind her, meanwhile she collected herr siblings gently, trying to usher them inside without too much noise, not to startle her mother’s frail nerves.

He had also visited that woman: she looked as hellish as her daughter looked heavenly, with her clumsy body and her aging face, a true devil, but it had been fun to taunt her and more importantly to discover through her memory what a little rascal her daughter was.

She wasn’t the average pastor’s daughter with fake smiles and blessed innocence: she had her dreams and her ideas and that made her stand out, in the little community.

And made the devilish incubus even more interested in her.

But he wasn’t the only one.

Another shadow-y figure appeared on the feet of bed, looking at your lounging body with icy-cold eyes, before they finally reached Roman, sending him a murderous look.

Indeed, if looks could kill.

“… what are you doing here, Roman?” asked his fellow succubus, walking in the shine of the moonlight, bathing himself in it, meanwhile Roman shot him back a threatening gaze, marking his territory with a growl “… you are a bit off your shitty territory of older women looking for a shoulder to cry on”.

“… well at least the entire town knows that I can get it up” it was a common rumor between succubus that Ivar liked his victims sleeping so that they wouldn’t speak up about his ‘flaw’.

Ivar just looked at him, coking an eyebrow, before his hand went down to cupping the pressing bulge in his pants, straining against the leather of them, as he hobbled onto his legs, moving slowly and carefully, his steps echoing on the pavement and they almost stirred her in her sleep.

She scrunched her nose and both the incubuses held their breath, wondering whether she would have woken up and they would have to vanish or whether she was just adjusting in her sleep.

Thankfully for both it was the latter, and she peacefully turned in her sleep towards Ivar, who smirked victoriously at the other incubus, gently moving onto her bed, stalking her as a prey, meanwhile Roman just settled himself between her and him, growling possessively.

“I saw her first!” he pointed out each word with a bite to its tone.

“What assures me that it wasn’t me that saw her first?” he smirked at him “… I fucking saw her entering the city, looking out bored from the window of her chariot at this shithole of a city where we are stuck… she fucking looked like the only interesting thing”.

“Well too bad, I arrived first” Roman retorted, and immediately pushed himself against her onto the bed, feeling her body against his, already absorbing the pleasure he could create with a simple touch, making a shiver go through her body and a smile that reassured her sleep “I am fucking better than you at this…”.

“Women never seem to love your forked tongue” replied the other man, pushing himself close to her mid-waist, before he gently pushed a kiss onto her pretty hips, round and fair “… mine instead makes them come back”

“Go to hell, Lothbrock” Roman spoke, letting, indeed his forked tongue sneak between his lips in a warning, but Ivar simply smirked, moving his lips onto her back.

“Already been there” replied Ivar.

And then Roman was ready to fight and so was Ivar, with the way his fists ached to punch him.

“Are you done there, or will you keep on fighting?” her voice startled them and as they turned, almost petrified on the spot by the realization that she was awake, they found her malicious eyes looking at them “… I have never desired anything more and the objects of my desire are just standing there like two idiots”.

Both the incubuses blushed having been caught in such a way.

And her gaze didn’t leave any space for answers, mostly when she raised her sheets and revealed her half naked body, the nightgown having raised up to show that it wasn’t hiding anything beneath it, anymore.

Just your cunt, exposed for them.

“What are you waiting for?”.

The two incubuses share an intense gaze, before Ivar muttered.

“We are sharing her, aren’t we?”.

All it took for Roman was another look at her disheveled body and then he replied.

“Of-fucking-course, we are”.

#ivar #ivar reader #ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar smut #ivar ask #ivar drabble #ivar blurb #ivar the boneless #roman godfrey #roman godfrey reader #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey smut #vikings #hemlock grove

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metalbatandzenko · 5 years ago

Note

Because you have an amazing specialty at writing Batarou domesticity scenes (I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT! 😍💖), what's your headcanon about the most domestic routines Badd&Garou have together in their daily life?

Ajjdfhr sorry this got buried in my notifications!! I’m so glad you like the domestic stuff I write🥺🥺

This isn’t a daily life one, but every week on Sunday, Badd cuts and washes Garou’s hair. The guy’s hair grows like a weed, so it needs constant maintenance. It becomes kind of a way for the two of them to have a quiet moment together.

Badd cooks most nights, but occasionally Zenko or Garou will find a recipe they want to try and take over. On the nights that Garou tries to cook, they usually end up getting takeout.

It’s not that Badd hasn’t tried to teach Garou to cook! He has many times. The guy just seems to have a knack for burning everything.

Part of the problem might be anytime Badd tries to teach him how to cook, Garou gets distracted by how pretty Badd looks with his hair in a small bun, chopping vegetables.

Badd, Garou and Zenko have a movie night every Friday. They trade off on who picks the movies.

Zenko usually picks either the latest Amai Mask drama and makes the boys sit through it, or something like a studio ghibli movie. Badd either goes for a movie from the 30s to the 60s or an action adventure movie, and Garou picks action comedies or buddy comedies.

Zenko is trying to teach Garou how to play the piano. It’s not going well.

It’s not uncommon for Badd to come home to Garou teaching Zenko to defend herself, or to find Zenko giving Garou a makeover.

When Garou first moved in (back when him and Badd were just roommates) Zenko and Badd slept in one room and Garou slept in the other.

Now, Garou and Badd share a room and Zenko has one all to herself. Garou and Badd trade off on who the little spoon is.

After Badd gets back from a fight with a dragon level threat, Zenko usually sleeps in their room too, in between the two of them.

Badd and Garou have a tendency to be pretty antagonistic and bicker constantly in public (anyone that knows them knows they’re flirting), but out of the public eye, they’re suuuper mushy.

The first time that Genos and Saitama came to visit, Genos was shocked at how affectionate the two were (all soft looks, palm kisses and cuddling) given that at meetings the two always butt heads. Saitama’s like, “duh dude, they were flirting”

Badd and Garou slow dance all the time. They are that couple.

The two both suffer from nightmares. It’s gotten better since they’ve been sleeping in the same futon, because it means there’s always someone there to ground them. They’ve been sleeping better lately.

#batarou

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the-unholy-typewriter · 5 years ago

Text

Summoning

an: my first post on this account! this was supposed to be Titans!JasonxReader but if it turned more into a meet the team story (feat. me being in love with Kori but what else is new)

You were getting kinda tired of waking up in a pentagram made of blood but at least you got to meet the cute new Robin because of it.

warnings: bad language, blood, implied death, explosions

words: 1076

Waking up in a summoning circle made of blood was weird. The guy calling you a chaos god was even weirder. What you found more concerning, though, was how exactly you were going to keep the blood from staining your favorite pajamas. Honestly you were kinda tired of being summoned by a wacko at this point.

You obviously weren't a normal human. You'd surmised that much the second time you'd woken up in a bloody pentagram. I mean there was the whole magic thing as well but with the world that you lived in magic users weren't that uncommon. Waking up in the middle of the night in a pentagram of blood, however, was weird even for a world where aliens and gods existed.

You sat up so that you were casually leaning back, trying to ignore the feeling on the half dried blood between your fingers and hoping that it wasn't human. You turned to the wacko who'd summoned you, finding that it was the same guy who'd done it the other four times and let out a very frustrated, "What the fuck, man?"

"Why are you here?" The guy asked, his voice as annoying as it always was.

You threw you hands up in the air, belying your frustration and completely ruining any illusion of coolness, "You're the one who summoned me. Again."

The guy opened his mouth to say something but whatever it was was cut off by the sound of a nearby building exploding. You quickly raised you arms, creating a barrier to protect yourself from the residuals of the blast. You watched from the corner of you eyes as the guy that summoned made his way to the door of the rooftop and quickly disappeared from sight, leaving you alone with what was left of his rituals. Today was a little to eventful for a Sunday in your opinion.

“What the fuck is going on here?” a voice called from behind you.

You turned to see the boy wonder stading behind you, surveying the scene that was in front oof him. He clearly had something to do with the explosion and you assumed that he had just taken care of whatever was going because he appeared mildly disheveled. You shifted to face him but still didn’t make a move to get up off the ground, “Does Batman approve of you using language like that?”

“I think the swear jar takes a backseat to the bloody pentagram. Now, what is going on here?” He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with you attitude.

You shrugged, once again leaning back where you were sitting, “Some wack-job keeps summoning me instead of his chaos god by accident.”

He frowned, “Yeah that didn’t clear up anything.”

“Because this whole situation really doesn’t make sense and I’m getting really tired of having to wash blood out of clothes,” you responded, going to run your hand through your hair before remembering that it was currently covered in sticky blood from an unknown source. You jusst really wanted to go home and take a shower at this point.

“Okay… this is a new one for me… hold on for a sec while I make a call,” He turned away from you with a hand pressed to his ear before you could even respond.

You shrugged, “Yeah, sure. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be on this miserable Sunday morning. I’ll just continue to sit here in the bloody sigil like its not weird or anything while you catch up with your buddy. I’ll wait.”

Robin ignored your ranting as he spoke into his comm in a hushed tone. After a few minutes he turned back to you, walking over and dragging you up by your arm, “Come on, I know someone that knows a little about this type of stuff, they might can help you.”

“Yeah okay, stranger. Lead me to meet your mysterious friend with knowledge of magic bullshit. This isn’t sketch at all,” You muttered as you reluctantly followed the new boy wonder.

He paused, “Aren’t you a magic user?”

“Doesn’t mean its not bullshit.”

He rolled his eyes before wrapping his one arm around you waist, the other pulling a grappling gun out of its holster, “Hold on tight, Hocus Pocus.”

Before you had the chance to protest he released the line and you found yourself grappling across the rooftops of San Francisco and desperately holding onto the bastard that your life now depended on. If his smirk was any indication, he was enjoying having taken you off guard and you wanted so badly to wipe tha look off of his face but you also didn’t want to die so you vowed to murder him as soon as you were on stable ground again.

He finally let you go when you handed on the roof of a particularly tall building and took advantage of the few seconds it took for you to regain your senses to make it to the roof door, calling out behind him, “Hurry up, they’re already waiting for you.”

You huffed before stomping behind the vigilante, wondering when you were gonna get to change out of your bloody pajamas. You followed him down several floors before he opened a door and entered into what seemed to be a living area of sorts. You noticed a small group of people gathered in the area and when you entered the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen and some guy who looked to be in his twenties stood up and looked at you and Robin.

The boy wonder grinned over to the group before gesturing to you with a bit of dramatics, “I found a new weirdo for your club.”

“Wait I thought we were meeting someone who knows how to help me, not joining the discount breakfast club,” You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to the guy that had dragged you here in the first place.

“They can help, this is like the breakfast club for freaks like you… no offense,” He smiled awkwardly while avoid eye contact with the other four in the room.

“Can you really help me?” You asked, the waver in you voice revealing you insecurity for the first time.

“We can try, if you let,” The man standing in front of you said as he took a step closer.

You shrugged, “Okay, why not, its not like I have anything else going on.”

#titans #dc titans #titans jason todd #jason todd #robin #jason todd x reader #titans dick grayson #dick grayson #nightwing #titans kory anders #kory anders #koriand'r #starfire #red hood

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scriptlgbt · 6 years ago

Note

My story is about pirates. The MC is a trans guy and the captain is a lesbian who is some sort of big sister/mother figure to him. It's quite violent. I was wondering if it could be problematic? I know it's problematic to show trans woman being overly violent in fiction but what about cis lesbians and straight trans guys? Also, do you know about real any queer pirates i could read about? And what did pirates think about homosexuality/transness?) How was it being queer in the pirate world?

A conversation that I had, that is relevant:

ME: [PARTNER], do you know anything about queer pirates?

PARTNER: I know that there were many, and they’d sometimes be like -

ME: Sea husbands kind of thing?

PARTNER: Yeah, and one would inherit from the other’s booty, and when it was divided up, they’d share their share of the booty.

ME: [mischievous grinning face]

PARTNER: [nodding] And they might share each other’s booty.

Disclaimer: This whole thing is going to largely focus on what is known as the Golden Age Of Piracy. I’m also not a historian, I just hardcore, love pirates with my heart and soul. This is going to be a long post.

So, this is super generalized, but pirates, and even sea-faring folks in general (see: - or sea, hahahahaha - the LGBT+ history of Brighton in the UK), have tended to have a much higher rate of LGBT+ folks and minoritized people in general, throughout history. As far as most research I’ve done goes. Being in a travelling situation and having the anonymity of being able to move around with chosen family generally has great appeal to folks whose existences are filled with oppression and a sense of not belongingness. This has also applied for racialized people, women in general, impoverished folks in general, a lot of different people who wanted to reclaim a place in the world that ostracized them.

Another fun fact, the use of the term “Friend of Dorothy” as a euphemism for gay folks was investigated by the US Navy. They misunderstood it as meaning that there actually was a woman named Dorothy who could be routed down and coerced into outing her “friends” to the military. Cruise ships and others have also used this phrase to covertly advertise that there were meetings for these folks. (Source: Wikipedia | “Friend of Dorothy”)

But to get to the pirates, specifically.

Most pirate ships largely had their own code that everyone on their ship had to agree to. Some had things like, “you’ll be marooned with one knife, and no food if you are caught not reporting loot to be divvied up by the crew fairly” and things like that. But generally, whoever ran the ship, the Captain, would get to pick the rules. And with the partial-democracy that comes with the idea of mutiny, and the more notable reliance on the labour of it all, in general, things were able to be slightly more consensus-based than the on-land governments.

There are numerous women who became pirates to take ownership of their lives in ways that weren’t permitted on-land. Anne Bonny and Mary Read are historical figures that might be worth looking into. The two of them shared lovers, sailed together, had intense care for one and other and with their dressing up in masculine-coded attire and the like, there’s a lot to go off of in assuming they may have been romantically involved with each other. If not, at least they had some iteration of what a lot of contemporary folks might find comparable to a QPR.

The concept of “sea husbands” was also called matelotage (or bunkmate) depending on your crew. It was kind of the buddy system, but gayer. With little need to consistently explain it to outsiders, folks at sea were freer to explore the different ways a relationship with another person can be, without so much worrying about how it looks to others at a passing glance. And as pirates, there’s less concern that you’ll get shit from the law for gay stuff Of All Things.

Buccaneer Alexander Exquemelin wrote: ‘It is the general and solemn custom amongst them all to seek out… a comrade or companion, whom we may call partner… with whom they join the whole stock of what they possess.’ (Source)

It was just normal. They also had a version of health insurance where someone was compensated if they ended up disabled from battle. The compensation of death of your partner also works into this.

As for transness, these kinds of things have had fickle definitions and historically, it’s hard to be able to pinpoint specific people as fitting cleanly into contemporary cultural definitions of transness, because frankly, the past had different culture to now. When it comes to writing canonically trans characters in contexts where the language might have been different, it’s important to focus on making sure that a trans reader can identify the personal connection with that character’s experiences and feelings, just as much as it is to use language to name folks as trans.

Representation can go deeper than surface terminology and the like, and in cases where the terminology doesn’t necessarily match, it has to. Language like, “I never really felt like a [assigned gender] - I see myself more like [desciption of actual gender identity or name for it].” - is as good as just saying the character is trans in my opinion.

Depending on where the character is from, they also may have just outright had a word in their language for their identity.

Gender presentation was significantly freer with pirates than it was for folks on land. Things like earrings, frilled sleeves, varied hair length and similar, were not uncommon, although the gendered coding associated with these aspects of appearance had different implications than they do now. Gold earrings on seafarers were there to fund a proper burial if someone’s body washed ashore. Gendered clothing was also coded in more binary ways on land. Folks who wanted to be coded as men could do so by wearing pants and folks who wanted to be coded as women could do so with skirts and dresses. (Tangential but fun fact yet again: dressing in those big poofy skirts usually included massive pockets. They were generally not physically attached to the skirts, but if you wore it all properly you would easily be able to reach into them.)

Pirates and other seafarers also had clothing referred to as ‘slops’ for cleaning (if they were of the rank that cleaned anyway) which were pretty wide-legged pants that could almost pass for a skirt.

Material that pirates used for clothing was largely what they stole, but it was cut and sewn into the same shapes a lot of other seafarers wore. At the time, it was largely illegal (under English rules anyway) for people who weren’t the bourgeoisie to wear anything made with nice fabric. Rich people saw this as deceitful, and these laws enabled richer people to not mingle on an equal level with those of a lower socioeconomic status.

As pirates, if you’re already shunning the law, may as well wear full calico suits. (Like Calico Jack Rackham.)

There’s more info on pirate and privateer clothing here. (The link is to a free book in HTML format, complete with illustrations and talk of materials, and how the clothes worn at sea varied from clothes they wore when they came into shore and towns.)

I could write a book on this and still not have covered enough. But the gist is that pirates were a big counterculture of outsiders living their lives. LGBT+ people and racialized people got thrown into the mix (and jumped right in) and experienced much more liberated lives than they might otherwise. That isn’t to say they were flawlessly inclusive - there still definitely were a lot of things people thought of in congruence with colonial beliefs. There was racism and homophobia - but it looked a lot different, and was a lot lighter than you’d think. And there were some ships which banned women, but mainly I think that was because they typically didn’t have the background to hold their ground on the ships, and were considered more of a plus one to certain crew members (who brought them - the rules were specifically about bringing them onto the ship rather than them being there of their own accord) than part of the crew. Sometimes women were part of the crew.

Notably, Anne Bonny and Mary Read were in a polyamorous triad with Calico Jack Rackham. (I think a cis + het historian might argue about this but that would seem like denial to me tbh. There is much, MUCH more evidence pointing in this direction than against it, and it would be extraordinarily hard to argue otherwise.) I would definitely do some research on them!

I also recommend this book (link is the free text on WikiSource), A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates. It is perhaps the most famous contemporary record of the lives of a number of pirates from the time, including Anne Bonny and Mary Read.

As for the sensitivity aspect of this ask, I’d say that what you are describing is completely fine. As long as the violence isn’t used to dehumanize or completely demonize, I would even say that I don’t have any warnings for you about it, or precautions to advise on.

Thank you for this opportunity to infodump about LGBT+ pirates. I hope this is not overwhelming, but I’m also happy to parse out segments of this better upon request. (Our ask will be open eventually, I promise.)

- mod nat

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winter-fairy-seed · 4 years ago

Text

Deep Base

A small tale for my buddies.

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Sudden Bliss - Prologue

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Another boring day passed by. You could almost gag at the pristine white walls of the hospital room, feeling your nose scrunch at the off white curtains that you know haven’t been washed in the last year.

“Are they even supposed to be that color?”, you thought to yourself squinting your eyes.

You’ve spent most of your week in this small place due to another breathing attack, which in fact was not because of asthma, but an “illness not yet disclosed or confirmed”. You clicked your tongue, reminded of the look on the doctor’s face when your mother asked if they’ve found any new treatments. You sighed, staring at the ceiling annoyed, and leaned back into the fluffy pillow on your hospital bed-- one of the many gifts given to you by some old friends. You hadn’t seen them in a long time, going in and out and between home and the hospital. You sighed again, irritated at the depressing thoughts and turned your head towards the window.

The sky was very blue that day, though your eyes, sensitive to the light, mostly saw the burning white off the reflected windowsill. You hummed to yourself, starting to drift away into a daydream. Visual ecstasy of the mid-day sun reflecting off of cold blue water instead of a dusty windowsill. Fresh breezes on your face like hasty kisses from the sky. A lovely dress that danced in the wind as much as your curls would.

A soft knocking could be heard on the door, and a doctor with an unfamiliar face walked in, bowing respectfully but also out of apology as he assumed he had disturbed you. He did, but you quickly forgot about the image of dazzling waters when you saw he carried a large briefcase and wore a black laboratory coat. You sat up straight in your bed, no words yet traded, as another unfamiliar face walked in not too far behind. This time you were a bit embarrassed as the second person to enter looked to be around your age-- maybe older? You were already used to your regular doctors seeing you as a hot mess, but not this professional man and what seemed to be his well put together son. You began to slowly become self-conscious about how you looked-- having been in the hospital for almost a week, it’s fair.

“Hello, ____”, the doctor warmly spoke, standing straight. “I’m here today for your regular checkup instead of Dr.xxx. I’m a part of the team who investigates and does the research on your illness. I’ve come myself to collect some important data, so I’ll set my things up and if you’d please, let me know when you’re comfortable and ready.”

It was hard for you to process everything that was happening. Your Doctor nor your mother warned you of this, and you felt sort of betrayed. Not that it was really their fault...entirely… Surprise visits weren’t uncommon for your case and apparently as a child there had been many researchers and doctors visiting you from across the globe.

It was still a bit hard for you to speak, so you lifted your finger towards the boy with an inquisitive look, feeling a bit rude for having pointed.

“Ah yes! My Apologies miss ____. This is my son. He’s been trapped at my place since there was a fire in his apartment. He insisted he come with me to work, so here we are! I read that you’re 19, so I thought having someone around your age would be of good company.” The man, now with gloves on and a stethoscope around his neck rummaged through his case while telling you about his morning. “Yoongi...why don’t you introduce yourself?”

By now your finger lowered, your hand now lying on the blanket that warmly covered your lap. Your eyes briefly looked over the male, who was more concentrated on the walls than you. What he was looking at? Who knows.

“Yoongi?” The doctor asked, turning slightly as if to check if his son had left.

You looked towards the boy as a reflex of the doctor calling his name and this time he made eye contact with you. He nodded his head slowly, his eyes slowly trailing to the right in the process.

You nodded your head as well, pushing your lips together in a straight lined smile.

“Well..you both are quite quiet...but that’s not a bad thing.” The doctor giggled at his observation and rose from his desk. He walked towards the bed and extended his hand which held the stethoscope. “___, if you could turn around?”

Your eyes followed the doctor as he walked towards you and before he could even request you had your back slightly turned towards him, where he gently listened to your heartbeat.

“Good.” He withdrew his hands and placed the stethoscope near his belongings.

He proceeded to do all other basic checkup procedures and recorded his data. In the process, you couldn’t stop your gaze from landing on the boy—who was now hovering over the canvases you painted the other day. You were again self-conscious and decided to concentrate on the checkup. You could hear the faint sound of fingers brushing over the soft yet rough surface of the canvas and your eyebrows burrowed curiously.

A few more silent moments passed and the doctor cleared his throat and sat up after finishing the checkup.

“Alright! Everything looks good so far! You seem to be following the diet and the minimal exercise we’ve assigned you and it seems to be paying off.” he walked back over to the desk, rolling the swivel chair to and from the separate ends of the large table, writing and typing. You stare almost feverishly at the computer screen where he records his data, not missing some other tab that had question marks scattered all throughout a flooded document. He gets up swiftly and heads towards the door.

“Alright! I have some samples to pick up, and data to drop off! I’ll get the tools we need to run your blood test as well. It won’t take long but bear with me for about 30 mins. Keep her company ok?” Your mouth practically fell open as he smiled warmly, directing his son as he headed out the room with haste and a wave. You looked back towards the son who listened obediently and sat down to get comfortable.

You almost suffocated from the silence, feeling as though it was too quiet to breathe. The ringing of your phone broke the silence in the room, making you both jolt a bit. You swiftly grabbed it, seeing it was your doctor and answered it quickly.

“___? Hello~?” The doctor sang into your ear as your nervously breathed having to break the deafening silence.

The boy on the other hand didn’t hesitate to feel for his phone in his pocket, pulling out a pair of headphones in which he plopped in his ear. You felt relieved by the gesture, your heart slowing down from its relay race.

“Yea, hey Dr. xxx.” You sighed in relief hearing a similar voice.

“How are you feeling? Did you get your checkup? I’m sorry for the little surprise! It was a last minute split decision made by the team… But! Dr. Min is renowned as of lately for his teams research and study in the field. He recently came out with a book called Mysterious Illnesses and Where They Come From. A fine read if I do say so! It’ll open your eyes to a lot...most importantly it’ll give you hope! And--”

“Dr. xxx….. I understand. Thank you..” You chuckled slightly to yourself. She always got carried away but you loved to listen to her stories and updates. “I actually enjoy the doctor! He’s very efficient and kind, and most importantly--”

“He has gentle hands?” Dr. xxx says through the phone laughing.

“Yes. Very gentle so I’m, at the very least, grateful for that.”

In past situations, you’ve dealt with many doctors who were super rough and cared more about their research than your fragile body. They would stick the popsicle stick too far down your throat or would half-hazardly stick the butterfly needle in to draw blood. Dr. xxx knew you hated them and remembered each and every bad experience. That’s why she always made sure to pay close attention to your reactions and sensitivity.

“Where is Dr. Min now? Are you alone? Not going too crazy?” Dr. xxx giggled to herself reminiscing each and every sly comment that could come from your mouth, but was surprised to hear a soft “hmmm” instead.

“He’s gone….but his son is here…” You cautiously looked towards the boy, his bluish black hair falling over his eyes. “Is he sleeping?” You thought to yourself. Taking note at this way his chest rose up and down. And the delicate twitching of his eyelashes.

“Oh!...well that’s interesting...is he...cute?” the Dr said nonchalantly.

Your felt your face heat up at the question and you pulled your gaze from him and back towards the window where your mouth was left agape. Only breathing out slightly.

“W-...well…” you stammered

“I’ll take that as a yes” She giggled, finding her bearing again after a few seconds. “Well if that’s the case, Dr. Min must be a Love Doctor too!!! I’ll leave you to it! You deserve it after all those lonely months at home and there in that white room that seemingly gets smaller and smaller.

Face still flushed and in a daze you shake your head almost laughing. “Don’t say such hazardous things— one of these days my heart will really stop”.

“Hey! Don’t joke like that….” the Dr was silent for a second but then gave a small chuckle.

“Really though...I really hope you can make some friends?? Maybe painting will become easier again?” She says sorrowfully, but with hope in her voice. Your heart clenched tightly at her words, a tight smile forming on your lips.

“Yea...maybe….” you look down towards your hands. They were clean in the areas that would usually be full of paint and you sighed softly.

“Ok now, take care and call me if you need anything. Your mom is still working but wanted me to give you a call around the time the doctor was getting there. I’ll let her know everything went well, yea?”

“Yes Dr. xxx.” You feel a smile creep up again and you breathe out your goodbyes. “Thank you...bye”.

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After hanging up the call you rested your head against the blanket and closed your eyes, almost forgetting the boy until you heard the muffled sounds of a saxophone. Your ears perked at the highs and lows and you turned your body slightly looking towards the sounds. You noticed it was coming from the headphones of the boy. “Hmm…”, you thought to yourself.

Sitting up in the bed you picked up a random piece of paper off your desk and shaped it into a narrow jet. You stuck your tongue out a bit closing your right eye, aiming for the round blue head of the boy.

The paper plane drifted almost in slow motion and you slowly started regretting your decision, but by then it was too late as the stiff paper plane crashed into his head and plopped to the floor with a soft smack.

The boys head jolted a bit and he slowly lifted up his chin, eyes blinking the sleep away. You decided you’d be tough about it, trying to brush off the nervousness. He took out the headphone and stared at your with furrowed brows.

“Uhm….” you gulped slightly but continued without stuttering, “That music…”

He seemed to open his mouth a bit as if to have already understood what you said. He pulls the plug of his headphones and places them in his pocket with as face that reads “sorry”.

You stammer a bit with your words this time but manage to get out, “No no no, that’s not what I meant— I mean… what are you listening to?” Your gaze stays glued to the floor, only darting up when he makes slight movements. It’s a bit quiet and he doesn’t reply at first, so you take a longer peak and realize the boy's face has turned a subtle hue of red.

“That’s….that’s…” he seemed to be having as much trouble as you were speaking when suddenly he gets up from the chair and walks closer to sit in the chair on the bedside. Your stayed wide-eyed at his movement and boldness. You just couldn’t make out his character. “Was he shy? Was he bold? Did he not care? Did he?”, you asked to yourself.

“These are some projects I’ve been working on…” he said while rubbing the side of his neck with his index finger and pouting his lip a bit. Now this surprised you.

This time you weren’t afraid to stare at his face, yours heating up when realizing how handsome he was up close. He continued to look through his phone until finding a music file and pressed play

“My father told me you liked soft sounds…” he said, not breaking eye contact with his phone.

You wondered if that was information your Dr wrote in your files? Either way it was very considerate and made your heart warm in a soft way.

You leaned forward a bit to signal you were listening and a soft melody began to play. A muffled saxophone and sharp reverb hi-hats with small clicks here and there began to play with what sounded like a ball full of sand rolling across a wood floor. there was a deep oozing bass and you felt your mind ease and your hands relax against the soft fabric of the blanket. You began to sway your body back and forth. You almost jolted to a stop when you heard a soft hum coming from beside you. When you opened your eyes you saw the dark haired boy swaying as well, eyes delicately closed, slender fingers tapping against the chair’s arm. You almost forgot to breathe, watching how gracefully his hair brushed against his forehead.

You shook your head, closing your eyes tight once more wanting to enjoy the sounds until the very end, ignoring the nervousness. But what you couldn’t ignore is the feeling of a hand sliding up your arm softly to the sway of the rhythm. Warm breath brushing over the crook of your neck and small whispers in your ear. Your heart began to race and your swaying slowed and became more fluid. You bit your bottom lip, sighing softly.

“___...” you heard in the echoing distance.

You gave a soft “yes?” until you heard your name again but louder.

“___.”

You jolted back into reality turning frantically towards the boy beside you. His eyes were dark, but his eyebrow raised in question.

“Ah-- what, yes?” you say stammering for a grasp of reality once more, face heating up. You all of sudden want to leave the blankets as it’s gotten 20 degrees hotter than you remember.

“The music's over….” The boy held his phone in his lap once more, letting go a small breath and smile. He pressed your lips and nodded to express your realization. your face warmed up again as you must’ve been swaying back and forth before coming to. “It seemed that you liked it though...good”. He looked back down to his phone with a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ah yes...I probably looked...insane” you stammered this time, removing the blanket and sitting up towards the window with your back facing him.

“Hmm.” Was all he said and a few moments later a small knock was heard and the black jacket Doctor was back through the door with more papers and equipment.

“Ah! I see you guys have finally gotten comfortable. Good! Nothing wrong with being slow to warm.” He smiles again, amused by his own comment and organizes his things. “Alright! Let’s finish this up quickly so you can get some rest.”

You nodded your head with a small smile and Yoongi moved back to his previous spot and placed his headphones in.

You glanced over expecting to see him relaxing and about to drift away into slumber, but this time, the dark eyes that gazed over you a few minutes ago stayed on you, hooded by his dark locks. Your face heated up as you looked away, the faint sounds of the saxophone ringing in the back...

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honeybee-babe · 5 years ago

Note

Super sick, delirious, sad Luther, and everyone taking care and appreciATING HIM HIM GODDAMMIT thanks

HI THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG AND THERE IS ALSO A PART 2 COMING YOUR WAY! This also fulfills “Don’t leave me” in the dialogue prompts (for @laimerrylin :)).

TW: Hallucinations, ANGST/guilt, references to character death, implied PTSD

Two through Seven stood in a line in the doorway to the infirmary. For once, they were all silent, staring at the operating table where Number One, finally asleep, lay shivering violently under a thin sheet.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Vanya was the first to speak up. Klaus reached through the space where Ben was standing to put a gentle hand on her shoulder when he heard the break in her voice.

“Fever’s on the way down!” Grace was at the sink washing the thermometer. She turned around and flashed Vanya a sympathetic smile. “It should break within the next two hours. He’s also got a bit of sinus infection, but it doesn’t sound as bad as last time, and we caught it early. He’ll be just fine.”

Ben walked through Klaus’ outstretched ard past the series of monitors Luther was hooked up to. As he reached out to “hold” Luther’s hand, Grace turned the sink off and stripped off her rubber gloves. She walked over to Vanya and putting a cold, yet still somehow warm hand on her face, then turned to face the rest of them.

“Your brother needs his rest. Why don’t you kids all go into the living room and I’ll make you some lunch?”

None of her “kids” made any effort to move. They stared silently again at their sick brother for a good thirty seconds before Diego finally spoke up.

“Klaus, you should really go.” He glanced up at the screen displaying Luther’s body temperature, which read 105.9 degrees, down from the 106.3 that had sent him rushing out of Luther’s room and calling for Mom just ten minutes ago. He looked back at his frail brother, who was shooting him a pleading look. “We can’t have you catching this.”

“It’s not contagious anymore.” Grace assured as she glided across the room to adjust Luther’s sheets. “He’s been sick for three days.”

“Wait, you said he was only sick for one day!” Diego hissed at Five.

“That’s what he said!”

“And you believed him?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Grace used her stern tone, then quickly softened again as she pulled the sheet up to Luther’s chin. “You need to let your brother rest.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Klaus shot her a genuinely grateful look, then looked up at the monitor himself, which beeped as Luther’s fever dropped to 105.8. “Are you sure there won’t be any permanent side effects? Ben says that’s a really high fever.”

“It shouldn’t stay up long enough for that.” Grace insisted. She tucked the sheets up to Luther’s chin and turned around to smile at Klaus. “Tell Ben I said hello!”

“Ben?” Luther called out from the operating table. Before anyone could respond, Luther was screaming bloody murder. Pale blue eyes flashed wide open as he clutched his arms to his chest, knocking over the table to his side in the process. “Oh my god.” He stared down at the empty space in his arms and started shaking his hands up and down violently, as if he was holding something. “Get some help!”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room as Luther continued to thrash about and Klaus, Allison and Diego looked at one with a tension so thick it could be cut with a cheese knife. Even Grace seemed to key into the painful, communal understanding.

Vanya and Five apparently didn’t get the memo.

“You’re okay, Luther,” Five soothed, and blinked over to his brother to touch his arm, which did nothing to stop Luther from curling in on himself further. Vanya crossed over to his other side.

“Shhh, you’re just having a nightmare, it’s not real,” she soothed, gently touching his other arm. “Should we wake him up?”

“It’s not just a nightmare, Van.” Klaus swallowed a lump in his throat. “That’s what he said when… when Ben-”

“Holy shit.” Five blinked back to the doorway and Vanya followed suit, though she had to physically back up to her place. Neither of them had been present during Ben’s death, the one being off in the apocalypse, and the other being excluded from missions.

“I’m so sorry, we didn’t–”

“Wait, guys,” Allison cut Vanya off, “why are his eyes open?”

“He might be having some hallucinations.” Grace’s tone was still calm and sweet. “It’s not uncommon with a fever this high.” She gently touched Luther’s arm; it didn’t go unnoticed when he flinched away from her and put his hands over his eyes. “Best you leave me alone with him. You kids shouldn’t have to see him like this.”

Once again, they all ignored her instructions, and stood watching as Luther whispered to the empty space he held cradled in his arms.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Ben, I’ve got you.”

Allison turned to Five, and pointed a finger at him, eyes narrowed into slits.

“You should have called us!” she hissed.

“Well you should have been there!” Five defended, pointing his finger at Allison. “He didn’t want me to call you because it would ruin your precious night out.”

“And you listened to him, knowing the shit he pulled last time,” Diego barked. He’d unconsciously put a hand on Luther’s arm when he’d tensed away from Grace, which had settled his brother down a little bit.

“I had it under control!”

“This is your definition of under control?” Klaus cried, gesticulating wildly towards Luther. “You should have at least told Mom when his fever spiked!”

“It didn’t spike! It was only 102.”

“That’s still a fever!”

“He was probably drunk.” Vanya put a hand on Five’s shoulder. “He wasn’t in the right frame of mind, right Five?”

“That’s no excuse!” Diego cut in. “Klaus is drunk all the time. Hell, we’re all hungover right now. Yet I had the common sense to call Mom when-”

“Guys, stop!” Everyone whipped their heads over to the operating table where Ben stood, glowing in blue light emanating from Klaus’ fists. He pointed down at Luther. “Look at him!”

Luther had his hands over his ears. He was curled up on his side, silently sobbing, as shivers wracked his body. Diego retracted his hand from his arm and slinked away to the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Luther mumbled. “Please stop yelling at me.”

Two through Five let out the tension in their chests in a collective sigh. Seven, who was already calm, crossed back over to One.

“We’re not yelling at you, Spacey,” Vanya reached out her hand to gently wipe the tears away from his clammy, burning cheek. Luther’s eyes shot open at her cold touch.

“Vanya,” He seemed shocked to see her, almost scared. “I’m so sorry, I never should have–”

“Hey hey hey, that’s in the past, okay? We’ve been over this, all is forgiven.”

“Luther, look who’s here to cheer you up!” Klaus brought his hands together once again in a burst of blue light, and Ben appeared at his brother’s bedside.

“Hey buddy. Not feeling too good, huh?”

“Ben,” Luther’s eyes flashed wide, and he let out a sigh of relief, sinking back onto the operating table as all the tension in his body seemed to dissipate. “Oh my god, I thought we lost you!”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Big Guy.” Ben smiled down at Luther, and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Someone’s gotta be here to annoy you!”

“Hey, that’s my job!” Klaus bent over to wrap himself around Luther’s waist. Allison followed, coming around from the other side and holding gently onto her sick brother’s hand. Diego stood watching

“Kids!” They all turned to Grace, who was speaking in her serious voice now. But the smile quickly returned to her face. “I understand that you’re all concerned for your brother, but he needs to sleep now, or his fever might spike again.”

That was enough to send Five blinking out of the room. Vanya kissed her brother’s clammy forehead once (and wiped the sweat off her lips) before leaving too. Klaus squeezed Luther’s hand and similarly wiped his hand on his pants before leaving, Ben following after him like always.

Diego still lingered silently in the doorway, watching as Allison whispered something in Luther’s ear. Was she rumoring him? He tensed as he watched. That didn’t seem to be the case though, as Luther didn’t seem to move or react at all. That is, until she tried to leave, in response to which he abruptly grabbed her by the wrist, much to Diego’s surprise.

“Luther, what’s wrong?” She tried to break free of his grasp but it was impossible, his strength was unmatched even in his weakened state. In response to which, he tightened his grip. Allison looked up at the monitors, but she couldn’t decipher anything except the fact that his fever now sat at 105.5. She turned to Grace, who gently put her hand on Luther’s other arm to soothe him. Allison noticed how he tensed away from her touch a second time. “Mom, I think something’s wrong. Can you-”

“Don’t leave me,” Luther pleaded, shooting her a pitiful look. Allison’s own expression softened and she stopped struggling in his grasp, instead bending over to kiss his forehead.

“Luther you have to rest so your fever can go down,” Allison whispered against his clammy skin. “Mom’s gonna stay with you, okay?”

“Please don’t leave me alone with her,” Luther whispered, loud enough only for Allison to hear.

“Oh.” Allison turned back to look at Grace, who was still smiling at her. And then it clicked. “Oh.” Luther had mentioned to her in passing that Grace had been in the infirmary with him when Reginald administered the serum. She cleared her throat.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why don’t you go rest and I’ll look after Luther.”

“Allison, you know I don’t need to rest! I’ll stay here with–”

“I want to stay here with him,” Allison said decisively.

It took a few moments for Grace to register that, her expression blank as she blinked multiple times. But then she looked at the monitor, which now read 105.3, and turned back with a thousand-watt little smile finally crossed her face.

“Okay! I’m hooked up to the monitors in case anything goes wrong. Let me know if he needs anything else!”

And then she left the room. Diego slid away from the door so she wouldn’t see him, and waited for the sound of her heels clicking down the hallway to fade away before he peeked into the room again.

#sick luther #luther hargreeves #luther whump #Umbrella Academy #tua #tua fanfic

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funeral-clown · 5 years ago

Text

at last, beth, the triad is complete

gay lawyers

Kevin Punt was an asshole. Violent. Angry. Sadistic.

You know, an asshole.

When Nelson and Murdock put him away for a few years, Foggy started resting a bit easier. Not much, because, well. Drop in the ocean. And. Well. Crime fighting partner with a masochistic streak. And. W e l l.

He didn’t sleep much.

But he slept better after locking Kevin Punt behind bars.

So when his parole hearing came up, he and Matt were quick to retake the case. The evidence was irrefutable, and the last thing they wanted was a monster like him back on the streets.

Kevin Punt’s family was, to say the least, not pleased.

“Ma’am,” Matt interjected in his best ‘I am a sexy blind lawyer, please give me your attention and listen to me and maybe take your shirt off if you want haha just kidding but seriously listen to me’ voice (although that may just be Foggy’s interpretation). “I’m sorry you have to go through this again. But the fact of the matter is, your cousin was guilty. No one wants to face their family members’ dark side, but in Mr. Punt’s case, his violent tendencies and criminal persuasions make him a danger to the public.”

“My cousin,” the young woman hissed back, tears burning in her eyes like rage, “Was innocent. You’re liars. You’re as corrupt as everyone else in this damn city!”

“Hey,” Foggy began, “I know it’s hard to hear-”

His frankly very soothing tone apparently did not work. It was possible his frustration was poking through.

“He’s innocent! He would never hurt anyone, he’s just confused!”

“Sure,” Matt sighed, exhausted, “He didn’t commit egregious acts of violence. He just stumbled into that store owner with a baseball bat. Multiple times.”

“That’s unsubstantiated!”

“There was VIDEO!”

“Doctored evidence!”

“Miss Punt,” Matt broke through, a hint of his alter ego breaking through the thin veneer of civility, “I offer my condolences again. One can’t choose their relatives, and I admire your support. But I’m going to have to insist you leave.”

She stiffened.

“Fine,” she snapped, “But we’ll see how you silver-tongued lawyers do in court when the truth comes out.”

“Pretty sure we’ll rock it, ok, thanks for coming in! Bye!” Foggy watched as she stormed out the door. “Aaaaand she’s gone. Jesus, the whackadoo apple must consist of the whole family tree.”

Matt hummed.

“It was a little weird though, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“What she said. That last bit.”

Foggy shrugged.

“You didn’t see it, but she had desperate written all over her. She’s just another grieving family member with false hope. Sad, but not exactly uncommon. I expected her to say fake news next.”

Matt stared at the door, considering.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Anyway, are you hungry? I could murder some pad thai.”

Matt snorted, and the daily lunch argument began. The strange encounter soon fled to the back of his mind.

For the moment.

When Matt came in for work the next morning, his body was still sore from a relatively painful night. Not too much activity, with his reputation, but it just meant the people who were out and about were more prepared than usual. The armor could only do so much against a taser. Still, the ache was good. It was the ache of a job well done, an ache that saved lives. He took a quiet pride in it, in what his body could do. That said, the day would look much better after a cup of coffee.

“Wow,” Foggy remarked fondly, “You look like hell.”

Matt groaned.

“Do you ever get sick of making that pun?”

“Nah,” he said, “It feels fresh every time. Besides, you like the puns.”

“No, they’re childish and lame,” Matt says.

This is not what comes out of Matt’s mouth.

“Yes, the teasing is a comforting reminder of how far we’ve come since you first discovered my vigilantism. I was afraid of losing you, and the fact that we can now openly joke about it is reassuring.”

Foggy stared, cup halfway to his mouth.

“Uh. Wow, buddy. Thanks for the. Honesty?”

Matt frowned.

“That’s. Not what I meant to say.”

“No, don’t wig out now. It’s kinda refreshing, not having to guess what you’re thinking.”

“Yeah,” Matt said dubiously, “I keep a lot of things private from you because I fear for your safety, and I know it frustrates you but I’m not willing to put you in harm’s way for my own sake.”

Matt glared down at his hands. Foggy’s eyes widened in shock.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Matt’s eyes snapped up.

“Foggy.”

“Matthew,”

“Lie to me.”

Foggy stood up, leaning over his desk.

“What’s that?”

“Lie to me. Something’s wrong. I need to make sure it’s just me.”

He could feel Foggy look him over.

“You look the same, pal. And by that I mean extremely attractive.”

Foggy breathed in sharply. Matt smirked.

“Let me guess.”

“I didn’t mean to say that!”

“Foggy. Something is very wrong.”

“I stole your pillow in college because it smelled like you and it helped me fall asleep!”

“Fog, I. You. Jesus, Foggy!”

“I need to leave right now immediately.”

Before he could stop him, his partner had grabbed his jacket and was out the door.

“Wait!” he called out. But Foggy was already gone.

Danny hummed thoughtfully over the phone, staring in consideration at the paper in front of him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you called me.”

Matt sighed.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else, and if I could have I would have called literally anyone else.”

“Hey!”

“Rand, I can’t help it! I’m compelled to honesty!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk. Well, more of a jerk than usual.”

Matt grit his teeth.

“You’re a man with the heart of a child and the power of at least a MINOR god, I don’t think you’re very responsible and quite frankly while I’m very proud of the strides you’ve taken with your company and wouldn’t want it in any other hands I’m morally opposed to billionaires.”

Danny nodded, beginning to fold creases into the paper.

“Yeah, sounds like a truth spell buddy. You piss off any witches?”

“None that I know of.”

Danny shrugged.

“I just shrugged.”

“I could hear it.”

“You can hear shrugs?”

“Danny.”

“Look, best I can say is let it runs it’s course. These type of things are meant to teach us lessons.”

“I don’t have time for zen bullshit!”

“Sure, Catholic. Also tampering with the spell might make it permanent. Which.”

“Fuck.”

“Have fun saying your Hail Mary’s for that.”

“Good bye, Daniel.”

“Bye, Matt!”

He waited for the click before presenting the table with a perfectly folded paper football.

“You ready for this, Luke?”

“Oh, I was born ready.”

“Foggy,” Matt’s phone politely informed him. “Foggy. Foggy. Fo-”

“Answer,” he snapped.

“It’s a truth spell!” Foggy blurted.

“Yeah, I know. I talked to Danny.”

“Rand? Really?”

“He was on a magical temple for most of his life. How did you figure it out?”

“I just asked Stephen Strange.”

“What?”

“I’m his lawyer. And I never grumble at him, so he likes me better.”

“What did Strange have to say?”

“He said it would probably run about a week, and if he tampered with it it might become permanent.”

“Sounds about the same.”

“You know who did this, right?”

“Punt.”

Foggy growled.

“I am getting really sick of that family, Matt.”

“It’ll be over soon.”

“This is going to make working on the case hell.”

“Why?”

“Because now I have to actively resist telling everyone I know that you’re Daredevil. And I have to actively resist telling you that I-”

The dial tone clicked.

Foggy had apparently found a loophole.

It was awkward. They both left the room multiple times. Matt didn’t know what Foggy was keeping secret, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was in love with him. Even if it was obvious to everyone else.

“You know,” Foggy remarked over noodles, “This curse sucks, but like. It kinda evens the playing field.”

Matt quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean. You can tell I’m lying whenever you want. But. Now I know for sure you’re not lying to me, either.”

“I’m sorry I hurt your trust enough that you worry about that.”

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t trust me.”

“I didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.”

“I’d put myself in harm’s way for you any day. We’re bros.”

Matt bit his tongue.

“Matt?”

Matt bit harder.

“Matt, what the fuck your mouth is bleeding! What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to keep things to myself,” he grunted, hoarse.

“Jesus, Matt, do I need to leave?”

“I never want you to leave.”

“What?”

“I never want you to leave.”

Foggy paused, wheeling the chair around the desk to be knee to knee with him. He radiated caution.

“Well. I never want to have to leave you, buddy.”

“I don’t,” Matt choked out, throat closing from the strain of keeping the words down, “Want to be your buddy.”

Foggy smelled hurt.

“What?”

“Foggy. I don’t just want to be your buddy.”

Foggy gulped.

“I’ve been trying really hard, here, Matty.”

“I know.”

“I don’t. Want to misunderstand. But it hurts to not say what I want to say. What I’ve always wanted to say. And I don’t. I don’t want to say it, if you’re. If you’re not gonna say it back. Not gonna feel it back.”

“Foggy,” Matt whispered.

“Matt.”

“I knew you took my pillow.”

“I know you knew.”

“I never asked to switch back.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Foggy’s hand shook as it reached forward and rested on Matt’s. His skin nearly screamed at the sensation, aching all over from the long time sense he had last been touched like this. Carefully. As if he were fragile. As if he could break.

“Foggy,” he breathed.

“I really want to kiss you,” he admitted, half hope and half rue.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me for almost 7 years.”

“Well,” Foggy leaned in, “Better late than never.”

It was soft, and firm, and a little wet. It was an everyday, normal, average kiss.

Matt lit up everywhere like an electric panel, gasping as the sensation washed over him. Gripping his hair, he pulled Foggy in deeper, opening his mouth in an attempt to steal back his breath.

“I love you,” he whispered into his mouth, “I think I might have loved you my entire life. I just didn’t know it yet.”

Foggy’s hands tightened around his thighs.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you since we first met. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t know how not to love you.”

“Don’t learn,” Matt hissed, fierce. “Don’t learn how. If you left I’d be lost.”

“Don’t worry, Matty,” Foggy laughed, pulling him in closer by his tie, “You’re the fast learner.”

The trial wasn’t very long. They presented the evidence, spoke of the victim’s family, mentioned his irrational behavior, spoke of the personal threats they’d received in the mail.

Every word of it was honest and true.

Kevin Punt did not receive parole.

His cousin stood in the audience, crying as he was taken away, screaming threats.

“It’s true,” she whispered. “He really did those terrible things.”

Foggy lay a comforting hand on her elbow.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

She nodded, sniffling.

“Also, you’re a bitch for placing that spell on us.”

She stiffened, before sighing and nodding again.

“I just wanted him to have every chance.”

Foggy squeezed her elbow and left.

“I guess I deserved that. You make someone speak truth, he’ll call you a bitch.”

“Oh, he would have called you that anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like it when his privacy is invaded. I should know, I’m Da-”

“MATT. I need you to come take me home until this thing wears off!”

Matt turned towards the door.

“Be right there, sweetheart.”

He offered his arm to the woman.

“Thank you.”

“For what? I need you to lead me to my partner.”

“Oh! Right, I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem.”

Bitch, he added silently.

“We’re going to have victory sex after this,” he added.

“The spell wore off after the hearing!”

“I know,” he was giddy, “I just wanted everyone to know. I’m a very lucky man.”

“That you are, Matt,” Foggy took his arm from the stricken woman and gave his hand a squeeze. “That you are.”

“Did you just wink at me?”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

There were some benefits to honesty.

#mattfoggy #beth this is the final part of the honesty trilogy #a witch made them do it and by do it i mean communicate openly and honestly #daredevil

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salaciouscrumpet · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 20

Whumptober Day 20 Prompt: “Trembling”

I had a few ideas for this prompt but none of them seemed to really click for me, so apparently I decided instead to go for the most painful one. I’m finally including some new characters in this one, mostly just to demonstrate that there were other people in Luke’s life growing up and that the Knights of Oberon aren’t actually the villains here.

CW: child abuse (more the discovery or suspicion of, rather than anything graphic)

Characters: Greg Ainsley, Ben Ainsley, Luke Kandarian (age 11)

“Oh, Lord, your mother is gonna have kittens.”

Greg Ainsley sighed and stared down at the two eleven-year-olds standing in the – rather appropriately named – mud room. Ben, predictably, was grinning, since he knew he should be in trouble but that of his parents, his father was the sucker and Mom was currently away. Luke, on the other hand, looked uncertain and a little stricken, like he couldn’t tell whether Greg was being serious or not.

He should be serious. He should be giving both boys heck right about now. They were covered in mud from head to toe, both of them, and their clothes were soaked through and dripping on the tiled floor. They’d tracked muddy rainwater in from outside and if Greg hadn’t caught them before they’d managed to sneak their way up to Ben’s bedroom, they would’ve gone and left a trail all the way through the house and upstairs. Why it hadn’t occurred to either boy to strip off their wet clothes and leave them in the mud room was beyond him, but preteen logic would always be a mystery to their parents.

Ben’s mischievous grin showed how well he knew his father, though, because Greg really was a sucker, and not only was he going to help the two boys clean up their mess, he probably wasn’t going to tell Ben’s mother about it, either. And he sure as heck wasn’t going to tell Luke’s parents about it, because while Julia would grumble and give Benjamin a hard time about it later, there was no telling what the Kandarians would do if they learned their son was causing trouble. Not that a muddy floor and some wet clothes was what Greg considered trouble, but Luke’s parents were hard people.

“All right, brats,” he said, taking care to put some extra lightness in his tone when Luke’s wary expression didn’t fade. “Strip off here before you make a mess everywhere. I’ll get you some towels and clean clothes. Luke, did you bring a spare set of track pants?”

“Um.” Luke blinked muddy water out of his eyes, then shook his head. “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Luke and Ben had known each other since they were four, and Luke still couldn’t manage to call Ben’s parents by their first names. It was always Mr. and Mrs. Ainsley, or ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’ with him. He was an unfailingly polite boy, which was not uncommon among the kids of fellow Knights, but it seemed like Luke’s parents took manners to rather extreme lengths. His older brother Danny was just the same, although at three years Luke’s senior Danny didn’t have much to do with Luke and Ben. Greg knew there were two other kids, both girls, but he’d never had cause to meet them. They were probably little Stepford Wives in training, though.

“Eh, I’ll grab some of Ben’s stuff,” Greg said with a shrug and another small sigh. Ben was taller and, frankly, chubbier than Luke, who was a skinny reed of a kid, but they could always roll up the cuffs until Luke’s own clothes were clean and dry again. “Just don’t go anywhere. You’re both disasters.”

“Um,” Luke said again, this time with an air of hesitancy. Greg looked at him and saw that the kid was frowning hard at the tiled floor, unable to meet his eyes.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Do I … Um. Do I have to change here, Mr. Ainsley? Sir?”

Greg blinked, and fought not to throw an incredulous glance in Ben’s direction. His son was already halfway to naked, his filthy jacket and shirt already lying in a wet heap on the ground. He had one sock off and was hopping around, trying to get the other one off before he moved onto his pants, but he had paused as though suddenly wondering what the problem was.

“Uh, no?” Greg blinked a few more times, then pointed at the door to the nearby bathroom, hidden in behind the stacked washer and dryer. “You can change in there? Just … try not to track mud anywhere, okay, kiddo?”

“Yessir. Thank you, sir.” Luke disappeared in a flash, darting behind the shelves of laundry detergent and dryer sheets to duck into the bathroom. In spite of his best efforts he left a small trail of dirty water behind him, but Greg pretended not to notice it.

Ben continued undressing as though nothing had happened, and maybe to him it hadn’t, but Greg – heading off in search of towels and dry clothes for both boys – scratched his head. Sure, it had been a few years since he’d last had to help Luke and Ben into their clothes, but nudity had never really been a big issue with any of them before. Luke had always been a shy, overly polite kid, but he’d never been body-conscious; it just wasn’t the way of things for kids raised by Knights. Most of them would grow up to be soldiers themselves, and when you spent time in barracks or needed patching up in the field you couldn’t worry about who saw what. Greg had honestly never even considered that Luke or Ben would be bothered by the idea of undressing – it wasn’t like the mud room of the Ainsley house was in the middle of the downtown core, after all. It was private. They were all men, or, well, male. For crying out loud, Luke was practically one of his kids.

Puberty, maybe? Greg wondered. He couldn’t remember when he’d started going through puberty – older than Ben and Luke were now, though, he was pretty sure of that. Was it time for him to have The Talk with Ben? Oh Jesus, Jules is gonna make me do it … He tried and failed to imagine Luke’s own parents giving Luke the birds and the bees talk; either they would tell him some BS story about storks and God’s love, or they would do some weirdly overly-informative thing that would probably include spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations. The thought of stiff, stern Daniel Kandarian (Sr.) sitting down and having any kind of talk with Luke was so distracting that Greg mostly just forgot about whatever weirdness was going on with Luke. He was a kid, kids were weird, that was pretty much the end of it.

After successfully locating two pairs of track pants and two thick sweatshirts, as well as an armful of warm, dry towels, Greg headed back to the mud room. Ben, unsurprisingly, had dumped all his wet and muddy clothes on the ground and was tracing his bare toes through one of the puddles, using the dark mud to draw a series of diagrams that Greg was going to try really hard to pretend weren’t supposed to be dicks. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s still in the bathroom,” Ben said, shrugging. Greg tossed a towel at his head and he caught it, obediently scrubbing it over his wet blond hair. “Maybe he had to poop?” Ben’s younger sister had recently hit that stage where she was obsessed with everything to do with fecal matter, and Ben had a tendency to pick up on it, mostly because it annoyed his mother and secretly amused his father. Never in his life had Greg heard so much talk about shit, and he’d grown up on a farm.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to come out here and critique your phallic artistry,” Greg suggested.

Ben stopped drying himself for a moment. “What’s ‘phallic’ mean?”

Shit. Greg grimaced, then said automatically, “Go look it up in the dictionary.” Julia had set up a big dictionary on the desk in the study, but she probably hadn’t intended for it to be used to expand Ben’s less parlour-room-friendly vocabulary. Still, teachable moment, right?

Ben, with the impeccable sense some children possessed that told them when their parents had said or done something they then immediately regretted, gave his father a huge, toothy grin, snatched up his dry clothing, and scampered off in the direction of the study. He hadn’t even bothered to dress himself, just ran naked down the hall. At least he wasn’t muddy.

Greg hadn’t actually meant for Ben to look up the word now (he hadn’t actually meant to tell him to look it up at all and he knew he was going to get in crap with his wife once their son started finding excuses to insert the word ‘phallic’ into every conversation), but whatever, what’s done was done. He shook his head and began collecting Ben’s wet clothing, gathering it together to toss into the hamper by the washing machine. He would have to get the floor mopped up before Jules came home with the girls, but they weren’t due to be home until after dinner, and Greg had promised Ben and Luke hotdogs and Kraft Dinner. Technically, he had promised them that if they were good, and it could be argued that chasing frogs through the stream on a rainy day and then tracking it all through the house didn’t really fall under the heading of good behaviour, but he had already established himself as a sucker, and besides, he wanted Kraft Dinner and hotdogs, too.

“Hey, kiddo.” Greg dumped Ben’s wet clothes, then headed over to the closed bathroom door to get Luke’s attention. “Got some dry stuff here for you, buddy.”

He knocked on the door, intending just to let Luke know he was there, but the door hadn’t been latched. It swung open, revealing Ben’s best friend, stripped down to his underwear and staring at himself in the full-length mirror.

Greg did not intend to look. He had no interest in staring at his son’s best friend, who he’d known since before they were in kindergarten together and who he thought of as one of his own. But there was no way not to stare at the trembling, panic-stricken child standing inside the bathroom.

Greg had known that Luke was small and skinny. It was hard not to notice, given how Ben had always been a big, boisterous kid and made Luke seem even smaller by comparison. Greg mostly just assumed that Luke hadn’t come into his growth yet – he was only eleven, and Greg himself hadn’t really hit his full growth until he was in his late teens (much to his dismay). But Luke’s dad was a big man and his older brother Danny, at thirteen, was already shooting up like a weed, so Greg had wondered if Luke took after his mother’s side. And in Greg’s experience most kids tended to fall into one of two categories: they were either all skin and bones until suddenly they weren’t, or they were all baby fat.

Luke wasn’t just small and skinny, he was practically skeletal. The kid looked like he’d never had a decent meal in his life, which made no goddamn sense because the Kandarians were loaded and liked to throw their wealth in everybody’s face; there was no reason for Luke to look like he was being starved. Was he sick? Was there something wrong with him? Greg knew Luke wasn’t a picky eater; that kid ate anything you put in front of him, and followed it all up with a bunch of ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. Worse than the skinniness, however, Luke was covered in bruises, and while a certain amount of cuts and bruising was to be expected in a kid as active as Ben and Luke, that didn’t account for the hand-shaped marks around his arms, or the stripes across his back and thighs. Those bruises weren’t from reckless play or casual accidents – someone had deliberately hurt this boy.

“Hey, buddy,” Greg said, using the tone of voice he’d once used on skittish horses. Luke startled, letting out a small yelp and immediately trying to cover himself up. Greg felt sick, hating himself for the unintentional intrusion, and for walking in on something Luke clearly hadn’t wanted him or Ben to see.

“Sir!” Luke scrabbled around for his discarded clothing. “I’m sorry, I was just –”

“Hey, it’s fine, I’ve just got some dry things for you. The door was … It wasn’t latched, and –”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …” To Greg’s absolute horror Luke burst into tears, sinking to the floor and burying his dark head in his hands.

Shit. Shit shit shit. The absolute last thing Greg had intended to do that day was to make his son’s best friend cry. But honestly … What the heck? Luke had seemed to take Greg’s explanation about the door not being properly closed as some sort of admonition, when all Greg had meant was that he hadn’t intended to barge in on him like that. Greg had been apologizing to Luke for barging in; Luke wasn’t supposed to apologize to him!

Buckle up, buttercup, Greg told himself firmly, and stepped inside the bathroom. He thought about closing the door behind him to give them both some privacy – he felt pretty confident that Luke wouldn’t want Ben barging in, too – but reconsidered the idea. He didn’t want Luke to feel penned in, and closing the door might give the impression that he was trying to keep the boy trapped.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s all right, you’re not in trouble.” Greg knelt down in front of Luke, handing the boy one of the towels he’d brought with him. Luke accepted it, clutching it to himself as though it were a shield.

Swallowing hard, Greg looked at the bruises on Luke’s twig-like arms, and had to fight down the urge to storm over to the Kandarian house and demand to know just what the ever-loving Christ was going on over there. He understood the need to discipline his children – he was lousy at it, but that was because he always struggled with the desire to be the fun parent, not because he wanted to use discipline as an excuse to beat the crap out of his kids. Even Ben, at his most obnoxious, didn’t elicit that kind of violent reaction from him; he couldn’t imagine what must be going through Luke’s parents’ heads, that they would do something like this to their son.

“Look, Luke.” Greg swallowed again, uncomfortable. “Lukas.” Luke flinched, seeming to curl into himself, and Greg tried another tact. “Look, kiddo – buddy, it’s all right. You can talk to me, okay? Is somebody hurting you?”

“Wh-what? N-no!” Luke stammered, but he wouldn’t meet Greg’s eyes. He picked up his filthy T-shirt, holding it up as if in explanation, and said, “It’s just … My mom … she’s gonna be piss—er, she’s gonna be mad about my clothes.” He sniffled, big eyes filling with tears, and Greg got the impression that that explanation probably wasn’t a lie – that Luke was, in fact, genuinely concerned about his mother’s reaction to his dirty clothing. Was Rita the one who’d been beating Luke? Was it both his parents?

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay.” Greg reached out, intending to give Luke a gentle clap on the shoulder, the way he would do for his own son – but Luke flinched away, even more violently than before, recoiling out of Greg’s reach as though afraid the touch would burn him.

It was as though there were two parts warring within Luke. One part was the wild, terrified, feral thing that cringed away from Greg’s touch. That part was on the verge of hissing and spitting in Greg’s direction, too afraid to let Greg in close. The other part was the well-mannered boy who couldn’t even use a mild swear word in front of Greg, who was supposed to do as adults bade him and be on his best behaviour at all times. Greg had always thought Luke was a polite and obedient kid, but now he couldn’t help but wonder just what had been done to him to make him that way.

“Okay, bud, I’m not gonna touch you,” Greg said, after the silence stretched out painful and taut between them. Luke was still cringing, trembling, and it broke Greg’s heart to see it – and to wonder, how long had Luke been like this? How long had this been going on, and he hadn’t noticed? He scooted back a bit, offering up the other towels and the dry clothing. Luke took it cautiously, careful to ensure their hands didn’t touch.

“Okay,” Greg said again, coming to a decision. Confronting the Kandarians would get him nowhere. They were rich and well-connected, and he was on the lower tier of Incarnate society – frankly, it was amazing they even let their son come anywhere near his, they were in such different leagues. But he could talk to Ben and see if Luke ever said anything about his home life, about who was hurting him. And there were other adults who spent time with Luke: teachers, mentors, weapons trainers and language tutors. Surely if they all kept an eye on Luke, they would be able to figure out what was going on?

“You don’t have to say anything to me, kiddo.” Greg stood up, feeling a pang in his chest at the wary, watchful way that Luke stared up at him, like he was expecting a smack or something worse. “But nobody should be hurting you, Luke. Not me, not your parents, nobody. If you’re in trouble …” Dammit, how did anyone do this? “Talk to someone, okay? You can come to me if you want to – me, or Juli – uh, Mrs. Ainsley. Or one of your teachers, maybe? Or …” He felt like he was grasping at straws. “Or Mr. Sleswick, he stays with your parents sometimes, right?”

Luke sucked in a harsh breath but nodded, still unable to meet Greg’s eyes. If anything his shaking seemed to grow worse, but Greg realized how cold the bathroom must be, especially to a kid who’d just come in out of the rain. He probably wasn’t making the situation any better, trying to force Luke to talk about something he clearly wasn’t comfortable discussing. He racked his mind for some clue as to how to handle this, but for all the PBS Specials and “Very Special Episodes” he’d watched with his kids, it occurred to him that none of them ever said how to deal with being the adult in the story. Those TV shows were all geared towards kids, to explaining to them how to tell if someone was hurting you and what you were supposed to do. Nobody thought to tell the adults how they were supposed to respond. He knew how he wanted to respond, but marching down over to the Kandarian house and beating Luke’s father to paste would just result in him getting arrested and no one being around to protect Luke.

Greg made the decision to find some way to bring the subject up with Ben. His son was young, but he was bright and observant; if there was something going on with Luke, he’d be bound to know. And he would definitely talk with Julia when she got home with the girls, because Jules always knew what to do. Maybe, after hearing that it wasn’t acceptable for anyone to hurt him, Luke would realize he should go and talk to someone. If he was lucky Martin Sleswick would be able to help; he was higher up the food chain than the Ainsleys were and the Kandarians seemed to trust him – or at least, they trusted him enough to let them stay with him, although Greg knew that with them it might just be another way to climb the social ladder, by letting a hero of the Knights of Oberon stay in their guest house. That, and it was a feather in their cap to have Sleswick teaching their sons fighting stances and weaponry. People were always talking about what a boon it would be to young Danny and Luke, to learn from the best of the best. Still, the man was there, and if Sleswick said anything about the Kandarians abusing their son people would be bound to listen to him.

“All right, squirt, get dressed,” Greg said, voice full of forced levity. He deliberately turned to the door, the memory of that bruised, skinny little boy forever burned into his mind. “Put your wet things in the hamper and I’ll get them cleaned up before you go home. Your mom won’t even know what happened.”

“Y-yes … yes, sir.”

Greg wanted to slam his head against the door frame, but instead he just put on a cheerful smile and made his way out of the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Head on up to the kitchen and I’ll make you boys some hot chocolate. How’s that sound?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The voice was very small and wet, the boy trying to stifle his tears. “Sounds good, sir.”

Greg Ainsley did not consider himself a violent man. He was a Knight and a soldier, and he had done some rough things in his life, but nothing compared to what he wanted to do to Luke’s parents if they were the ones hurting him. He was going to sit down with Ben and try and get to the bottom of this, and then he – and maybe Sleswick and some others – would have a nice little chat with the Kandarians about their son.

***

Hopefully the inclusion of Greg and Ben wasn’t too jarring. Ben is a Knight of Oberon and Luke’s oldest friend, and he will be appearing in more ficlets. Greg is his father, and he just made the most sense as the POV character.

Oh, and as a note: 11-year-old Ben is loosely based on one of my nephews. I don’t have any kids so I don’t know what’s considered “normal” behaviour, but I can confirm that my 10-year-old nephew is weird as hell.

#whumptober2019 #day 20 #prompt 20 #original fiction #cw in note

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