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giordirossi · 2 years ago

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ayaz--ates:

When she’d eventually turned to face him, Ayaz’s hesitation was brief. As if it was the most casual thing in the world, his steps carried him to her, and his hand had found the very same railing, somewhere just behind the hip he’d grazed to get there.

“I guess not.”

Because even if her date happened to be her date, or this dangerous line they toed came back to haunt him later, he’d decided long before now, the moment his eyes had caught sight of her that evening, that he didn’t much care.

It was hard to imagine seeing anything unfamiliar at all given how vividly she’d lived in his mind every day since the first. But as his thumb gently traced her jawbone, eyes following every slow inch of progress, the touch of her skin beneath his fingertips sure felt different than all the ways his imagination hadn’t done it justice. And as his lips moved to fill the void, pressing a lingering kiss in its wake, he muttered confirmation that said imagination was not how this was ending for a second time:

“I’m not making the same mistake tonight��”

Whole new ones, it could be argued, but not the kind that would leave him with quite such a bitter and regretful longing for a chance to do things differently.

When he finally retreated, there was still no real space between them; as though his body begrudged the mere thought. Using the position of his hand, he tilted her head, just fractionally, up toward the light coming from above. If he’d thought her the most beautiful woman in the room before now, seeing how that shit hole of a night club had done her so little justice almost seemed unfair to everybody else on the damn boat. And in spite of himself, he’d smiled at that. Because Giordana was the type who could be anywhere she wanted to be, but she was there with him.

Drawing it out any longer would’ve been impossible even if he’d wanted to. And he didn’t. Their first chance had been so fucking fleeting, he refused to risk the idea of something interrupting them again before he got a chance to decipher just why he was so pressed on missing out on her company in the first place. Circumstances had been kind to give him a second shot, but he doubted it would take pity on his for a third. As his lips finally found hers—by no means chaste, but certainly not as messy as some of the exchanges he’d been forced to witness tonight, either—he made it abundantly clear that tonight it was her, or it was nobody.

Unlike the last time, she would be the one who chose how this ended.

Now came the part where he revealed himself and tossed her overboard.

Duplicity could be expected in this line of work and falsehoods were a casualty almost as common as the actual thing. It was fair to say that trust never came easily to Giordana and with every passing year it dwindled down into little more than a trickle. Treading dangerous waters came as no surprise for a woman so willingly absorbed in violence, she never shied away from the promise of a challenge nor the threat of unfamiliarity. Yet his approach confounded even the most jaded of creatures.

Public enemies, private intrigue.

Clocking his fingers before they reached her jawline, she waited for the metaphorical shoe to drop with her fist still wrapped securely around the rail. It never did. Another shade of bewilderment, or perhaps curiosity, ignited behind green eyes as they lifted to meet his with the express intention of understanding why. What was the angle here? Why pursue it at all?

Haunted as she might’ve been by recurring daydreams, the brunette chalked him up to just that: a fantasy. Intentionally trapped in some forlorn center of her imagination where desire laid itself to rest beneath the weight of duty. She’d sat in the windowsill of her apartment every so often and wondered if, on some blustery night down by the fountain in Cabot Square, he might actually show his face. If she could recognize his silhouette from a distance; if he could recognize hers.

I’m not making the same mistake tonight.

Apparently neither of them were and the pair settled into an uncanny sort of agreement, regardless of how paranoia still crept around the fringes of her thoughts, whispering seeds of doubt that didn’t quite take root as they otherwise should. Not when he smiled, the gesture lacking a particular brand of emptiness she usually recognized and eliciting her own faint one in response. Definitely not when she echoed his kiss with equal fervor, cementing whatever intentions they’d skirted around before tonight while effectively shutting the door on willpower.

One palm splayed against his chest, fingertips dipping beneath the lapel of his suit to press with a mixture of warning and decision. Her features drew back ever so slightly, their noses still brushing when she whispered, “Not here.” Even now there were too many opportunities for interruption and with their luck, the pool would catch fire. “Get me off the damn boat first.”

#( x. threads: ayaz )#( x. after party )#why is this so long

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slutsofren · 4 years ago

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Danger Days Chapter 8: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back

summary: finding shelter in an abandoned home, you try to keep your wits about you and care for the still unconscious Joel until some trouble comes knocking

word count: 3,792

content warnings: mention of gore and impromptu medical care, more canon-typical violence, death, murder, arrival of.... cannibals, y'know the deal hurt/comfort

notes: i didn't mention it last time but yeah, your shit really can kill you if you get your lower intestines punctured lol it's a real thing and gnarly af

read on ao3 / masterlist

You woke up in a start. Heavy breaths taking hold in your lungs. The small, barely considerable amounts of sleep were getting to you as they had been for the last month as more and more night terrors racked your brain. Rubbing at your eyes, you pushed yourself up to begin your usual routine.

It had been a couple weeks since your little group found yet another abandoned home and it took some hell of maneuvering to get Joel into the basement but it worked. The winter snow was coming in full force and it was peritive you all kept Joel as warm as possible, there were too many odds stacked against him.

Walking over to his prone body, you checked on his wounds once more as you did practically every couple of hours. He was looking worse for wear, even changing out the gauze could only do so much. Whatever small amounts of clean water the three of you had went to cleaning it out, hoping to stave off the infection.

Joel was, by all means, not doing well.

To top it off, even with your meager amount of medic training from your days with FEDRA could never prepare you for the long-term haul you were in with Joel, he was dying. The bastard was dying and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

Night after night you were haunted by the image of him falling off that balcony, the sounds of his groans of pain still lingered in your head even when you were awake. It fucking sucked.

He was asleep now, he barely woke up since everything went to shit at the university then at the mall. That in and of itself felt like a lifetime ago. You put a hand against his forehead, feeling how his fever still hadn’t broken. With the chill in the air as winter was fully settling in making your fingers cold as ice, he didn’t even flinch away. You closed your eyes and sighed, still not wanting to give up. Not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not even for the grumpy man himself.

A quick glance out the small basement window told you it was nearing dusk which startled you. Ellie had left when the sun was at its peak, sometime around noon, surely. She had been gone much much longer than she normally would have.

Usually it was you who left to go hunting for food once your supplies dwindled but Ellie wanted to help relieve the burden from your shoulders and you reluctantly agreed. Yo hated to admit you needed a break. She had argued she wanted to get better with her bow and arrow and she certainly did, often bringing back animals of various sizes. It was her way of coping with potentially losing Joel, something she confided in you that was one of her biggest fears.

Thoughts of Ellie swirled your mind and you paced back and forth, chewing at your fingernails. A nasty habit you suppressed most days. A part of you wanted to go find the girl, follow Callus’ tracks in the snow. Another part of you didn’t want to leave Joel by himself.

Fuck, you thought.

Compartmentalizing you figured if she didn’t return within an hour, you’d go looking for her. If you couldn’t locate her within a mile radius, a strict rule you enforced her limited hunting zone to, you’d hunker down with Joel and wait until morning to find her and scold her for being irresponsible.

You stopped your pacing to look at Joel’s face, seeing how his face was still warped in the painful scowl he hadn’t let go of. His features were beginning to slowly become gaunt as the small amounts of food you’d been able to get him to eat the rare times a day he’d wake were coming far and few in between. Even his usual tan skin was slowly softening to a cooler shade of bronze. He looked like death.

Joel, by all means, was a handsome cowboy. Even with his patchy beard that was littered with grey hair in a few spots. Now he just looked like a ghost of himself.

Okay, fine, you admit to yourself. With Joel down, you’ve kind of missed the fool. You missed the banter and arguing with him about stupid shit. He irritated the daylights out of you because he always wanted to jump headfirst into things without a care for his safety clearly but dammit, the lack of his presence was palpable. You hated it.

You sat beside Joel, removing one of his hands from under the blanket to hold. His hands still rough and calloused, mirrors of yours if you weren’t missing a finger. Once upon a time, you remembered hearing that coma patients could sometimes hear what people said to them, that it helped. Maybe talking to him now would help not just him but you as well, to keep your mind occupied. Maybe pass the time a little. Maybe.

“Hey, it’s me, you grumpy bastard,” you started off lightly. “I don’t know if you can tell but you’ve been puttin’ that girl and I through hell and back trying to keep your ass alive.”

A hollow laugh escapes you, feeling a little more choked up than you’d ever dare to admit. Composing yourself you tried to use playful banter. “How do you do it, cowboy? Ellie is a goddamned handful. Shit, I thought I was bad when I was a teenager,” you sniff, feeling your voice waver.

“When I first laid eyes on you two, I think it would have saved me a whole lotta trouble and pain if Maria let me shoot you,” you sigh dramatically. Even though there was a smile on your lips, it didn’t reach your eyes. What did were the tears that were slowly forming. The added stress of Ellie being missing was really wearing you thin.

Amongst other things.

“Y’know,” you sniffled, “you really hurt my feelings back at the university. When you thought I led the two of you into a trap.” You took a sharp inhale. “As much shit as you and I put each other through, that was the one thing that stung. More than anything.”

You squeezed his hand and sighed, closing your eyes. Admitting that was hard, stars know you’d never say that to Joel while he was conscious nor in front of Ellie.

“Don’t die, you asshole,” you begged softly, wiping away the light tears that coated your lashes, reluctantly letting go of Joel’s hand as you tucked the blanket around him tightly.

After you said your piece, your mind became overrun with the little turd you grew fond of. The more you began to worry about Ellie, the more your thoughts swirled rapidly into worst case scenarios.

Before you worked yourself into a much deeper frenzy, a loud metallic bang echoed from upstairs. You ran up the steps and came face to face with Ellie, looking just as frantic. She raised her hand and in it, a tied white rabbit, so white it was nearly silver in the dim lighting. “I got food,” she said breathlessly.

“And,” she shoved you aside and took off to the basement, “I got this. Can it help?”

Ellie reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe and orange bottle, she handed it to you while kneeling next to Joel as he shifted in his sleep. You were still rather shocked to see Ellie who looked faintly bloodied and tired, before you could comment on the new rifle on her shoulder, you took the bottle and were damn near milliseconds from riding into her until you read the faded label of the glass container.

Penicillin.

“Where the fuck did you get this, Ellie?”

Without waiting for her to answer, you dug in your pack and pulled out some disinfectant alcohol and a gauze pad to clean the syringe and a spot on Joel’s arm. Ellie refused to look up from where she kept her gaze focused on Joel’s face, “‘s not important.”

“If I wasn’t so mad at you right now, I’d kiss you.”

Throwing away all the questions you had for her, you administered the antibiotic as quickly as you could, he sighed as the medicine entered his body. Although, it was likely you were giving him too much, truthfully, you didn’t think it would hurt him worse than he already was.

As he relaxed underneath your hands, you looked down at his wound one last time for the evening. The haphazard stitches were taut on his stomach where the swelling was, hopefully by morning, he’d be better.

You didn’t look up from Joel as you laid into Ellie, “I don’t want excuses about where you were, only that you promise me to be more careful in the future, please.”

“Ye- yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” you covered Joel back up, “Now go get some rest. I’ll take care of the rabbit and wake you when it’s done.”

You turned your back to Ellie, it wasn’t that you wanted her to feel bad for her little disappearing act. You just needed some space to gather your thoughts. Between being Joel’s caretaker, Ellie’s temporary guardian, and keeping yourself sane, you were a wreck. You needed a moment.

Before you took a step on the stairs you paused. “Good work on getting the medicine, kiddo. Joel would be proud of you too.”

She didn’t respond as you walked away, the implication that although you were upset with her, you were still proud lingered in the air. Mindlessly, you focused on the rabbit, doing what needs to be done to cook it for dinner, pushing away those lingering worries. Ellie was safe, you reminded yourself, she came back.

It didn’t take you long to finish with your meager dinner, still pretty damn proud of Ellie’s evolving hunting skills. Maybe you’d offer to teach her a couple snares in the morning to leave out overnight. Although they tended not to gain anything bigger than a rabbit or a squirrel, something was better than nothing and you’d figure it would help Ellie focus on something other than Joel’s condition.

You bounded down the stairs, bringing the freshly cooked meat with you. A small shake to her shoulder and she was awake, “Dinner’s ready.”

Ellie didn’t bring her gaze up to look you in the eye, likely still ashamed. The two of you still sat in silence eating, occasionally looking to Joel for any changes or whenever he shifted in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding small.

“I know, Ellie. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just worried.”

Once again, the silence encompassed you both like a blanket, warmer now than it was before. You broke it first, “I was thinking about teaching you a couple snares in the morning. How does that sound?”

Ellie wiped the grease from her fingers on her jeans and looked up, “I think I’d like that.”

Just like that, the two of you were on even footing. It didn’t feel right to be mad at each other, not when Joel wasn’t there to diffuse. Either way, it was much like when you were the one in between their own fight that day you’d met them, it wasn’t healthy when you all had to rely on each other for survival. At least with Ellie, she was quick to forgive and forget in the face of the larger picture. A quality you kind of admired in the young woman.

Both of you finished with your portions of the meat, saving the rest for the morning or for Joel if he wakes in the night. Simultaneously you shuffled through the remaining ammo together, doling out some spare bullets to Ellie for her shiny new rifle, still not going to ask how she acquired it. Let her have her space.

She took the bullets graciously, reloading her sidearm and long range weapons and placing them in her backpack before getting ready for sleep. You stayed fiddling with your own weapons for a few moments longer before calling it quits too.

You laid down on the opposite side of Joel, biting your lip and hoping for the best. You tossed and turned, not knowing if you could take facing Joel’s sickly frame but you also couldn’t turn your back on him and Ellie who laid on her backpack on his other side.

Please, you wished, let the medicine take.

These kinds of wishes filled your mind until you slowly drifted to a fitful night’s sleep.

By morning, you happened to find yourself shaken awake with Ellie’s face close to yours, “Wake up, I need you awake!”

You jumped up, onto your knees. “What is it,” you ask startled, afraid Joel was worse than he was when you fell asleep. Looking at Joel, he didn’t look like he deteriorated in the night, but he also didn’t look like he improved any.

“I was tracked,” she says as if that explains anything. Both of you have your hands on each other's arms in a failed attempt at communicating the other’s panic.

“What do you mean ‘tracked’, Ellie?”

“Those people I got the medicine from, David and-and James, they fucking tracked me!”

“Ellie, what the fu-.”

“Look, listen, I’m gonna draw them away. Keep an eye on Joel,” she tells you in a rush, letting go of you and bolting up the stairs, grabbing her backpack on the way out.

“Fuck,” you practically shout while getting up and looking out the window. Outside you see silhouettes of a few men, searching the nearby area. Frustrated, you kick the washing machine.

Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t know what to do, you feel tied down once again because of Joel’s condition and Ellie’s neverending saviour complex. You mumble out a few more expletives at this situation just as you see the girl bound down the street on Callus shouting for the intruder’s attention. As she rides away, you hear bullets being shot at her, getting further and further away from you.

You carelessly threw your denim coat on and opted to grab your knives instead of guns, hoping to kill anybody who came close without alerting the others. Out the basement window, you could see a few of the men still lurking about, choosing not to follow Ellie.

Just before you followed Ellie out of the house, you doubled back to Joel, kneeling forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll come back, I promise you Joel. Just please, don’t die on me now.” Another kiss on his warm skin and you left without stopping, barricading the basement door as if it was left unoccupied.

Everything in you wanted to panic, your muscles were screaming to fold in on yourself and heave what little food remained in your stomach but you couldn’t give in. Not when Ellie was in danger. She may have been a pain in the ass, but she was your pain in the ass.

After your conversation last night, you’d be damned if anybody hurts your girl.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your worries free and cleared your mind. Although you were a field medic by title with FEDRA back in the day, working with them turned you into a killer. It was a toxic mindset for you, even when you had joined the Fireflies, they took advantage of your ability to focus on one thing and one thing only, turning it into their own game - death.

It took years to shake off that blank emotionless part of you, even Tommy was afraid of it when he saw the horrendous things you were capable of, what the Fireflies exploited from you, but Tommy wasn’t here and the people you loved were hanging on by a thread.

It was easy to see the outlines of the few straggling men who searched the nearby homes, whatever Ellie did really pissed them off. Now, these people only pissed you off.

You stayed lurking within the shadows of the homes, even with the sun just getting ready to set, it wasn’t too difficult to stay hidden. Especially to those who weren’t familiar with the layout. It was easy to spot how the few men tended to remain within a handful of yards together, opting not to venture out into the buildings alone. Alert and yet unorganized as you could see how they would often turn their backs on each other, giving you such a delicious opportunity to sneak in and out, weaving through them and taking them down one by one.

Was it absolutely horrible this was your instinct? Maybe. But you had two people you wanted to protect, two absolutely annoying yet selfless humans who gave you hope. You did love Joel and Ellie, even if you hadn’t admitted to it yet. Besides, you had a whole lot of stress burdening your shoulders and you wanna hit something.

You watched as the small group approached one of the homes off to the left, allowing you ample room to get close without having to cross the street in the open. You took off running, not bothering to try and conceal your footprints in the snow as you got to the house besides the targets. You entered through a broken window - a common for every single house on this block. Taking lighter footsteps, you ducked by the windows and reached the second floor landing.

The homes in this area were built within close proximity to the others, making it easy for, say, somebody needing to jump between windows without being seen. Perfect.

You listened hard and close as the men shuffled and tossed things around the first floor, looking for any sign of Ellie and ‘those two people she was with’. You growled lowly, really hating the implication that these people knew about the three of you.

Taking another assessment, you noticed there were two men standing guard out the front of the house, idly walking to-and-fro, their conversation remaining on wishing they were chasing Ellie instead.

A deep breath in and you jumped with an ‘oof’, trying to make as little as noise as possible, aiming for a wide open window with a snow covered bed on the other side. Between the snow and the mattress, the noise was cushioned to only a small thud, thankfully concealed by the thuds of the men downstairs shuffling through rooms. You quickly got up and went to the doorframe and saw there was only a hallway and stairs leading down.

You took deeper breaths again, trying to center yourself for what you were about to do as you heard one person come up the stairs - alone.

Placing your body flush against the wall, you waited in stark concentration, drawing your knife from its sheath. The footsteps came close, nearing the room you were hiding in and just as an armed gunman came in, you rushed him. Putting one hand against their forehead, you pulled the other hand and dragged the knife into their throat, essentially cutting off the person from making a noise and ending their life. You pulled and lowered their body as they began to choke out, laying them on the floor gently against the wall, carelessly hiding the body.

Downstairs you could still hear shuffling of the other invader and you made your way to them, silently assessing.

From what you could tell, the other person was banging around in the basement. So you rounded a nearby corner to where the open basement door was until finally, finally, somebody came through. You took him down just the same as his buddy.

So unorganized, you thought. If they were really looking for you and Joel, they were doing a piss poor job of it.

You swiped a bottle from the kitchen as you strolled past, taking aim out a broken window. Giving it a nice little toss, it shattered against the other house and without fail, you heard the tell-tale signs of one of the other men asking ‘what was that’. You ducked behind the faded curtain until one of the targets came into view, watching how he was pensive and alert, fortunately he was by himself which made the next part just as easy.

As soon as the man walked by the window, you jumped out from your hiding spot and jabbed your hunting knife straight into the soft squishy part of his eye, surprisingly facing little to no resistance.

You pulled it back and repeated the motion again once the man made an audible noise, probably alerting his friend. In only a slight rush now, you jumped out the window and removed your blade, now stalking towards the front when you could hear the other man yell the other’s names.

Wrapping around the corner of a house in a whirlwind, you surprised the last one when you stood face-to-face with him. He looked at you, astounded, mouth agape and dropped his weapon - a handgun. Looking down at his body, he whimpered as he took in the sight of your knife now buried deep in his stomach as you yanked them up into his chest piercing his heart.

Copper scent filled the air as the hunter’s body gave out. His blood spilling down your front. Under normal circumstances you would’ve likely vomited all over yourself but considering the innate need to protect Ellie and Joel, all that shit is blown out the window.

All in all, maybe thirty minutes have passed, you wanted to check on Joel but the distant gunshots were making you worried. At the very least, the longer they went off, the longer you knew your little fighter was alive.

Okay, think, you tried to get yourself to focus. You came up with a rapid-fire plan and before you could second guess yourself, you ran. Refusing to stop. Each step in the plush snow found you closer and closer to your hideout.

Entering the home through the garage, you gave Whiskey a pat as you walked on by and headed straight for the basement. You pushed the undisturbed barricade from the door, grateful it signaled that Joel was safe. Entering the downtrodden room you grabbed your holsters, strapping them maybe a little more tightly than you should’ve and throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You double-checked your weapons, making sure they were fully loaded.

Once again, you kneeled next to Joel as he laid on the dirty mattress, huffing from the rising pain from the stitch in your side. “Joel? I’m gonna go back out and find Ellie. I’m gonna go get our girl,” you said.

You hoped you were telling the truth.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x oc #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #joel tlou reader insert #the last of us reader insert #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #danger days fic #asher's writing

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cyberdva · 4 years ago

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The Haunting Of Queen Mary's Castle- C.B ~P.1☆

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Main Masterlist

Colby Brock Masterlist

Summary: Sam and Colby had the bright idea to drag their friends to Scotland, and where would the perfect video location be? How about Queen Mary’s haunted castle? It didn’t help that aspiring physic, Y/N wasn’t too happy to head out of the country, but Colby was there to help. And maybe he wanted something more than being there to help her. Could the spirits be on his side for once?

Word Count: 4k

Date Uploaded: 8/31/20

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: This fic is from the vault. I wrote this around January of this year, I start school again in two days and the work and stress load is going to be horrible, especially with it being half in person, half online. I hope to get some more creativity back when more pressure is put on me. I have plenty of ideas with just not enough passion and time. It’ll trickle back one day.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Holy Shit…” Colby held his camera closer to his chest as he walked closer towards the breathtaking Neidpath Castle. It’s aura seemed to engulf the curiosity of the young man. His friends splurged on a ten hour trip to Scotland for a quick Youtube video series, he knew near the end, half of them would be begging to go home. The comical routine played its key role in every single episode, no matter what the occasion was. It did make good money to be completely honest. Although, that wasn’t the main focus of their careers. He found himself under a tall bridge-like banister connecting its way to the entire estate. Next to him was his long time roommate, Corey. He sported a bright yellow hoodie in large contrast with Colby’s black one. It was sort of funny, each of his friends had a unique personality, yet connected so well. Of course, they were wearing their own merch. It helped the sales go up, not to mention it was awfully comfortable. A perk to the business if you say.

“And we thought the church was cool…” Sam, Colby’s best friend and other handler of the videography series on their channel, gaped in front of him. This place was bigger than any other private plot they’ve ever visited! It was a couple thousand dollars to rent out for the night, but with the palace’s history it was born to make a hefty income.

“We have this all to ourselves!” Colby nudged Sam, he handed the camera off to his friend Jake, who was talking a mile a minute to the other attendees. A new face poked out of the regular bunch.

“Are you gonna catch me when I get scared, Y/N?” Jake stuck his face in the view of the content woman. Her persona seemed quite drained due to the long trip. She was partially new to the Youtube platform, especially with ghost hunting. Not like Y/N was easily frightened, unlike her friends, it just wasn’t her go to for a cheap thrill. Nerves were indefinitely strained, since it was the first time out with the entire group. Nothing Jake couldn’t fix.

Her laugh trickled out blissfully, ”Wouldn’t Tara get jealous? You don't want to get on her bad side? Do you?” He quickly shook his head and gave a hesitant reply with his sheepish smile.

“We get this all to ourselves?” Colby queried. This place was double the size of the Trap House by far, they had to be scared shitless by the time they left. There had to be some sort of restrictions or a down sided catch to it all.

“Did you do any research on this place?” Y/N slid up behind the unfocused main man, a small quirk to her. Colby jumped a smidge in light shock. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be genuinely interested with the property. Colby mentally cursed for being so jumpy.

“Jesus Y/N, you scared the shit out me.” He replied, not answering the girl’s question. Y/N met Sam and Colby way back in highschool. Each of them slithered their way into the other’s channels and have made frequent appearances. They definitely weren’t strangers, even though it seemed that way with fans. Y/N had more paranormal encounters out of all of the boys, despite a bit of distaste towards the topic. She was lugged around on long adventures to help them with videos. Some of her videos ranged from ‘‘accidentally’ joining a cult to “selling her soul”. She was the wicca-pedia they needed to not get possessed each trip.

“Ok pussy.” She walked off to talk to Corey, the pair oddly all had a strong connection from somewhere, and Colby sighed as to quickly put on his cheery online persona once more.

Sam waved up at a vacant window as the group, “Hello!” The woman replied unknowingly and aroused quite a shock of embarrassment. A faint giggling came from the couple in the back, “No,no, I do it better.” Corey got a hold of herself, “A Ra-Ta-Ta-tah.” The two burst back into their ceremonial laughs and briefed on about some TikToks they watched on the remotely silent ride from the airport.

Sam turned back around to see the shorter woman. Notwithstanding her first place in line, “How is he gonna get a kiss kiss? Very ugly to me!” The duo rounded up to each other and laughed on their way up the trail, leaving the others confused and focused on talking to the groundskeeper.

“I’m assuming you are the caretaker of this?” The blonde one waved more at the older woman. She seemed more on the reserved side and peeled her eyes at the sight of a camera. A lovely addition to the already uncomfortable scene.

The woman gracefully approached Sam, “Yes, Yes I am. My name is Katrina.” Sam went on with the lady into a dark back door. The young adults glanced on in uncertainty.

“Yo, why are they going off by themselves?” Colby asked Jake. The first rule of all of their videos was not to go off by yourself. Bad shit always follows. “He literally was like-”

“He’s been looking at her ass like all day.” Jake joked back, Corey attentively diverted himself from Y/N to get a jump in on whatever that conversation had morphed to.

“That’s whatever the fuck he was doing.” They all snickered and continued on with the inappropriate jokes. Editing this would be like a field day to Reggie.

“Is Kat gonna think…” Colby looked around jokingly, getting another round of laughter from the friends.

“I don’t know..” Colby softly replied. He pressed on to dumbfoundedly impersonate Sam’s girlfriend, “Oh it’s not cheating if he’s not in the same country.”

“It’s sexual relations Jake.” Y/N whispered at him. They continued to poke fun out of the cougar-lady, but her and Sam rushed back soon enough. Just in time to ask questions.

“Uh, that was pretty much the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Sam pulled everyone aside with a smug look on his face. He honestly always had one of those. The blank stares that were thrown back at him weren’t what he expected.

“Uh Sam what does that mean.” Jake chuckled. He looked around at everyone not able to catch on. The seriousness of the situation began to settle as everyone genuinely thought Sam could have done some weird shit with that groundskeeper.

“All I have say is that was quick man…” Colby scraped some gunk off of her nails while waiting for following instructions.

Sam obviously didn’t understand, “To fill you guys in I had to learn, kind of, where all the specific light switches were. I didn’t even look around. I just kinda looked at the ground until she saw.”

“You were like that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Colby turned the camera to focus on him and Jake mocking Sam’s slight happiness by seeing fancy rocks.

“It was only the stairs!” Sam said defeatedly, he didn’t want to spoil the real first looks.”That’s just giving you a little hint, but um, I asked her if she could you know fill us in on some of the information of, likewise castles here, the hauntings or any deaths and she said she knows some information.”

“Oh cool…” Colby was already quite unenthusiastic about this idea anyways. Katrina retreated out of the building quickly with keys in her hand. She sprinted over to all of them.

“Look it’s Sam’s new girlfriend!” Y/N cheered. Sam spun his head around, probably pulling a muscle in the process. The pure look of utter horror could not be more hysterical. Sam became flustered with a loss for words, his face tinted with a light shade of pink. Before he could muster up any sort of retort Katrina, the groundlady, came jogging back to the group.

“What’s some of the backstory about this castle?” Jake asked, he spun some rings around in his hand. Paying no mind to the other plot line adhering to his right.

“This castle was built in the second half of the 14th-Century, but there was another castle built before that in here. That was built in 110,so uh.” Few ‘Wows’ and ‘Oohs’ cut her off. “That was quite a while ago, but the Neidpath was built by the Family Of Fraser’s and they built a Buddha made castle. This one was burned down by the English army. After a guy named Simon Fraser, who’s the cousin of Braveheart, was captured and executed and that’s why the Buddha made the castle was burned to the ground. Another family built this castle, which was besieged in 1650 by the Cromwellian army. Legend says that this was the only stronghold of the Scottish borders which actually withstanded the siege. Whether it’s true or not, we don’t know, but what we do want you to know is that one-third of the castle collapsed, non-existing anymore.” She spoke with absolute passion. The place had so much rich history, the surrounding observers listened with extreme intent, not to miss one sentence in case it may help their investigation.

Colby raised his eyebrows at this question, “One-third of it?”

Katrina continued on, “Because of the siege. We do have a dungeon in the castle as well.” Everyone went silent.

“A dungeon?!” Jake nearly dropped a silver band he was picking on by the mention of this. His personality perked up and suddenly the whole crowd was uplifted. Finding weird places in “abandoned” areas is always a plus side, but this tops all of it.

“Guys shut up!” Y/N whacked Jake with her phone, he stuck his tongue out while rubbing his shoulder. She didn’t want to leave too bad of a first impression. It would be mortifying if something went wrong and the owner already hates you.

“Is there a dragon?” Corey brought everyone back to the topic of the castle, he didn’t want to be there a minute longer, but in this group you just do what you’re told and shut your mouth.

“We do have quite a big colony of bats under the roof, so I’m not sure if you really want to go down there Mister.” The group laughed and groaned at Katrina’s statement. Running into bats could be the worst thing to encounter.

Corey nodded in response, “So there are dragons.”

The history went on, “It was quite widely used during the 14th and 15th century because that was the only reason for the whole county.” The darker side of it all became slowly prevalent. It wasn’t just a posh place the others expected it to be.

“Prison?” Sam posed. This just got a lot weirder than they all expected.

“Yes. You’ll be able to get into it because there is this rough opening through, which was made in the 17th century, but before that the only entrance to the dungeon was through the trap door from the guards. I should have shown you that, but I’m not going to. You’ll find it by yourself.

“Oh god…” Colby rubbed the bridge between his nose, an inevitable headache was beginning to form.

Sam tittered, “Are we just going to fall through? Is that ok?” He got no proper answer, which set his worries on the run.

“So, the last prisoner was there in 1594, I think. We know there was a teenage boy like a 14 year old boy who was just pick pocketing people and he ended up here. The note didn’t say that he actually came out of there again.”

“Like meaning it’s haunted?” Colby preyed on.

“Uh, it is haunted!” Katrina stated blandly.

“Fun for us!” Y/N shrugged to hide her panic. Colby glanced at her. He sensed her anxiousness, he didn’t want her to be upset. Definitely not in the shitty environment. Of course, he cared for her, he just didn’t know how to open up and tell her. Would this really be the place?

“We do have our own one. Her name is Jean Douglas. She died in 1750, she was the daughter of one of the owners of the castle and she died of a broken heart.” The mood fell, a breeze pulled through and messed with the mics. Leaving just a sprinkle of static in the footage. Just in time.

“She was engaged to a young man, but he wasn't wealthy enough to win her family over, so he went abroad to win his fortune and fame and because he was away for far too long she went really sickly and pale and she didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep, so she was really frail when he finally came. When he was riding his horse through the archway she was at the window and he failed to recognize her because she was so altered and broke her heart and she died on the spot.”

The group had a silent reaction to the news, not knowing how to react.

“Ever since then she is walking through the castle being very tall, very gray, very pale looking, weeping.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Jean.” A tiny shiver racked through Sam’s body. He didn’t tell anyone. Just not to set anyone off. Now he really didn’t want to face this spirit.

“Have you ever seen Jean?” Y/N asked, trying her best not to be insensitive with the approach. These things are held really close to some people. Their experiences could be life changing, for others it could most certainly be a lot different.

“No, but I do have ghostbusters coming in several times a year and I asked what was the best recording ever and they were like ‘We got brilliant ones of screams.”

“Ah..”

“And I was like inside of the castle. I’m here sometimes on my own in the middle of the night at midnight, one, two, three o’clock. When I have to lock up after the events and such. Do I really want to do that with screams in my head? No I don’t, I said no.”

“Alright sounds like it’s a nice haunted Scottish castle.” Sam tried his best to play off his uncomfortable feelings with humor. It did not work.

“I’m going to do the dungeon now. I’m not telling you what I’m going to do now and then the place will be yours” Katrina headed back into the castle with an odd vibe.

“So, she’s gonna make us fall down the trap door, wow.” Jake leaned in for slight commentary.

“How much do you want to bet that we’re going to die?” Y/N grabbed her backpack to locate her wallet and pulled out a twenty.

“I bet 15.” Corey grabbed his wallet too.

“Guy, that is so sad though…” Colby came into the center of all of them, “Ok, that story. Imagine your husband comes home on a little horse and you're in this window, literally right there and then you die on the spot because he's like ‘Who’s that?’ It’s a tall, frail old lady that’s crying everywhere.” Colby clung to his sweatshirt, “Oh that’s so creepy!”

“Colby if you ever do that to me you’ll have to go back to VidCon alone again.” Y/N was putting in her best bet and threw a five at him. “You can use that for your ticket.” He blushed, just like Sam moments before.

Sam added more commentary from behind the camera, “They’ve heard screams within the castle.” Katrina came right back out with her deafening personality, handed the keys to Sam and hopped right back in her small, blue car, and left with no exchange of words.

“She creeps me out.” Jake in discomfort. To be fair, she is a creepy ass old lady who owns a castle in the middle of nowhere.

Corey turned away from the groundskeeper's car and shrugged off his jitters, "So we have a castle to ourselves...”

“This is amazing!” Sam couldn’t contain his excitement.

“No Shit. I still can’t grasp why you all buyout expensive stuff like a castle.” Y/N gripped the abundance of bet money and slid it all bad into her bag.

Colby inspected the property more in depth, as if he was waiting for a ghoul to poke out at any given time, “This is where we’re staying tonight.” With a grand motion upwards Sam panned the camera up and down.

“And you guys...” Sam pulled the camera away from the stronghold and directed the frame to the rest of his friends,”..have not even seen the inside at all.”

“I know, I know.” Colby pulled his beanie down his head, the enlightened sun seemed to cascade into the clouds with a faint breeze.

“Let’s go find our cottage, get ourselves completely set up and ready for the night. Take some pictures before sun down and then go into the castle, because like we can’t lose this sunset and we got to figure this out.” Sam did some weird hand movements in front of the camera and handed it off to the other’s opinions.

Colby nodded his head up and down in agreement,” Yeah definitely.” Jake wandered around with a rock and for the most part everyone said eye to eye.

“Unfair treatment. I wanted to go in now.” Y/N gave a side glance to Sam and Corey brushed his hand over her playfully. She walked back into frame,“All I gotta say is, Colby Brock Hot Edits.” Colby walked up next to her with a shit-eating grin in approval. Who doesn’t love Colby Brock edits?”

“Shut up, you’re just jealous that there’s no Y/N L/N hot edits for you.” He playfully jabbed back at her with a growing flutter in his stomach. He fucking hated that feeling to no end, but it was such a drug. Only when she was around.

“Alright let’s go, I’m bored as shit.” Jake came back with his new pet rock and put his arm around Corey. Sam cut the camera and went down the forked path. Right down the road was a cottage for visitors.

“Hey Y/N,” Colby came jogging up to the colleen, “Did you see any weird stuff yet?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a symptom of his bashfulness, he began to rethink his uncolorful wording in his sentence. He just had the sudden urge to go up to her and she wasn’t complaining one bit.

She looked over at him, “No, not yet. I just got really put-off by that lady. She just was so…” Her eyes connected with his and a glistening highlight overcame the peaking iris. The words weren’t verbally there, but he understood what was there.

Sam cut her off, “Dude. Look how big this place is.” It was rationally smaller than their house back in LA, but it was sizable for an ancient brick living space.

Jake made the most commotion out of the seven, “Whoever is first picks where they sleep!” He dashed ahead of the group and everyone picked up speed, almost dropping the rock he just adopted.

“I think there’s only like three beds.” Sam panted. No one paid much mind to him and kept running. They all toppled into the door and Corey unlocked it, which left the rest to run up to a room. Jake took the first one to the left, Sam tumbled into the one across. A room had a small couch for Corey and last, but not least…

“Looks like we’re bunking L/N.”

“Fuck you Brock.”

Sam peaked his head in, “Guys, we have film some shots of the place. Come on.” The three made it to the living room where all and sundry were. Sam grabbed his camera and got everyone in shot.

“What?!” With grand motions each person stood up in their acts of shock. Even though it had been there for a solid five minutes the audience always has to be entertained.

Colby turned around, “Yo! We got a TV too!” A small Toshiba was put on a step stool. It would probably gain no use tonight anyways. It looked like a piece of crap too, thank god for Youtube.

They all got up from their seats and went to uncover the rest of the place, “This is nice, very cool.” Colby led them into Corey’s room. A huge bed frame was around a pink canopy bed. Old photos and paintings of the fortress were hung evenly around the perimeter. Sam went through the rest of the rooms and told everyone to head off and get ready.

The guys took cold showers and Y/N soaked in a muddled bath in the basement. She didn’t like it here. Her mind couldn’t unravel much. Sam was stationed upstairs doing a camera touch up with Jake by his side talking about the new Harry Styles album. A half an hour later everyone was wearing at least one faction of Sam and Colby merch, phones were charged and beams from flashlights slid across the floor like a jumping snake.

The group divided into pairs as they walked to the castle. The sky grew much darker than expected and it felt like a looming spirit chipped away at the warm function of friends. The camera was whipped right back out.

“Alright, we are all showered, changed, and ready to explore the castle before sunset.” All went under the arch while the audio was whacked around by the wind.

Colby turned from his conversation to the viewers, "I’m still like flipping out that we’re staying here tonight. That’s crazy!” His lantern swung below him and the towering castle was engulfed by the purple skies. “Look at this place! Look at that beautiful sunset!” He yelled.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “Since when were you PG-13?”

He blandly stared at her,”Shut up I need to make money,” He looked back at the camera, “When I was like blow-drying my hair and stuff after my shower, my hair dryer was insanely powerful. There’s obviously a lot of energy in it, like the voltage.”

“I thought he said blow-j-.” Corey chimed in. He shut himself up so they wouldn’t get demonetized, it would be a funny way to go down though. Y/N and Colby giggled along with him. It wasn’t a rare occasion that they all were out laughing and joking, just the side chick with the haunted castle.

Corey swung his flashlight up and down, “His blow dryer started smoking and like almost blew up.”

“So, what I’m saying is the spirits could use all of this energy to talk to us.”

They all made it to the castle and it was around five-thirty. There wasn’t much to do at this time, but she was always watching. There was something about to happen they could all feel it and that thing, it wasn’t going to be good.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Part 2? Send me an ask if you want it!!

#Sam and Colby #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock x you #colby brock #xplr #sam and colby fan fiction #sam and colby fan fic #jake webber x reader #jake webber imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #queen mary #corey scherer x reader #fandom

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silence-burns · 4 years ago

Text

Please Hate Me //part 47

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

There are few things better suited to following a great summoning ritual than stalking a kindergartener and, quite literally, taking the candy out of his chubby little hand.

"Hey, that's mine!" the brat, Timmy, screamed, but had to watch Loki unwrap the popsicle and munch on it.

"Oh, Timmy," you sighed. "I thought a tough kid like you would handle this better."

"Who the hell even are you weirdos?" Timmy considered ending his question with a kick to the shins of one of you, but decided otherwise under the unnerving gaze of the strange man in a green suit. There was something off about him, that much was certain, but little Timmy couldn't wrap his mind around how otherworldly he actually felt.

He looked around, but none of his friends were around yet, and neither were any adults.

You smiled your beautiful, wicked smile. "Don't fret, Timmy. We've heard all about your deeds, and boy, did we actually love them."

Timmy frowned. His chubby cheeks puffed up just in case it was time to scream. You didn't look like parents of whatever kid he might've recently offended. The pocket money he was getting ;ately from his schoolmates was nothing to worry about. A few bucks here and there weren't a reason for such a direct approach. Okay, those glitter pens he took from that girl last week might cause some bigger stirrup, but she certainly had a different set of parents last time he saw her.

"The hell are you talking about?" the boy settled on a safe approach.

Loki chuckled and leaned down to look him in the eyes. The features of his face started to blur. Timmy frowned, but blinking didn't clear it up. The harder he looked, the more they melted, and molded, and reformed-

"We know what you've been doing, child," the creature's horns grew and curled, just as more and more sets of eyes popped open. "We have our eyes on you."

The shadows deepened, and the world turned colder and eerily quiet. It was the absolute stillness of something deeply unnatural moving right past you.

But Timmy, despite what his teachers might say, was a smart kid. Being a bully and a petty little thief for years without facing actual repercussions of his actions could not be achieved if one didn't know when was the time to run. Timmy knew that time had come and didn't wait for things to unravel any further. His short legs took him surprisingly far in just a few seconds. Loki and you could only watch him go.

"Do you think it'll be enough?" you asked, taking the lollipop from Loki. It was the strawberry flavor. "I certainly wouldn't want to fail our first commission."

"I guess we'll see," Loki shrugged off the spell. "But I'm pretty sure we gave him something to think about. I can send one of the shadows after him to make sure he doesn't pick on our 'client' at school tomorrow. It'll be awhile before they disperse after summoning, so we can make use of them."

"Will they still lead us to the stolen pin though?"

"Without any problem."

And that closed the case. It was a little satisfying, Loki had to admit.

He was still unsure about the pin, though. There was something off about the type of magic he sensed in the box. Faint as it was, the tang of death and rot was still unmistakable and didn't fit in the mental image of SHIELD's safehouse it was supposed to be stored in. It made the chase after the truth more thrilling.

Loki fixed his suit. It was not the type of fashion he usually preferred, but the way you looked at him in it made it worth it. There was nothing as confidence-boosting as being aware that you’re the eye candy for anyone lucky enough to pass.

"Shall we?" Loki offered you his elbow as the shadows gathered and formed a rough doorway. Beyond it, only darkness swelled.

Stepping through it was a fight against condensed mist, but at least it had none of the flesh-shredding quality of Bifrost.

The shadows Loki had called followed the invisible trail of magic the pin left behind after it was stolen. There was little chance of them being wrong or simply misled, Loki had assured you earlier. As beings stuck in a state of half-existence, there was not in the physical realm so often that it could affect their judgement and cover the tracks. Still, even Loki had a moment of doubt when he took in the place the two of you had been led to.

"I think we should've used that chicken," you said, looking around what was unmistakably a forest. A thick, dark, and very old forest. Definitely the type of forest unwelcome to unannounced travelers.

It did not mean you were scared. You were just aware of a certain, thick atmosphere hanging low in the cold, winter air. Somehow, it was darker than it should've been at that hour. The trees loomed over you, their branches twisted and hanging low enough to strangle.

Loki kept on patting your arm while your terror grew, and despite ignoring him for a while, you finally decided to turn.

A thick wall of a hedge, painted in a rotting green and sprinkled with half-melted snow, stood tall and guarded whatever was behind it. The branches were woven too tightly together to take even a peek between them.

"Is that a house? In the middle of a forest?" You asked, but no answer came. There was no road leading to the house. The trees encircled the hedge, but didn't interrupt its space, as if that particular spot had been chopped out of the forest. As if the usual rules of logic and nature didn't apply there.

"Strange," Loki muttered to himself as he walked closer. The hedge ran far in both directions, and from the point you approached it, no gateway could be seen. High above your heads, thin swirls of smoke rose into the air.

"We should walk around and see how to get in." You gestured to the left.

Loki looked up. The hedge loomed a few heads above him. Even if Loki jumped, he wouldn't see above it. He jumped anyway.

And was swallowed by the hedge.

You knew there was something wrong with that forest, and the strange house especially, even before the branches shot out and wrapped around Loki. He only managed a yelp of surprise before he was pulled in towards the impenetrable depth of the bushes. As much as it was reassuring to know that your senses and intuition were as sharp as ever, the time to brag would come later. Using the ace up your sleeve, or rather sword in your pocket, you made quick work of all the choppable branches.

Loki dropped to the ground.

"You could've cut off my hand!" He looked in horror at the cleanly cut piece of his sleeve. It had been a close call indeed.

"Couldn't you regrow it?"

Loki stopped shaking off the twigs for a moment. "I'd prefer not to find out, honestly."

The hedge, despite your trimming, was as impenetrable as before. The only thing that changed was the distance you kept away from it. After not a long discussion, you decided to look for a way in.

The little gate looked suspiciously ordinary. The metal rusted in a few spots, mercilessly beaten by years of rain and humidity. The path beyond it winded between neat rows of herbs and vegetables and occasionally flowers you couldn't name. The scent of fresh soil hung in the air as you walked through them. The house itself was neither big or new, but was most definitely haunted. There was no doubt about it. It was obvious in the way the windows watched you approach. In the way the smoke curled lazily through a draft you couldn't feel. In the doorknob in a shape of a hissing bat.

"Do we… knock?" you whispered. For reasons you couldn't explain, you had a feeling the house was listening to every word.

"That's usually how it goes," Loki's reply was equally quiet. He made no move to knock, though.

A hollow hooting was the only warning before a dark shape swooped by your heads and landed over the door. The owl was big, even once it settled and closed the wings. The feathers, in various shades of grey and muddy brown, hid it almost perfectly against the wooden planks of the house.

It was a nice owl, one might think without looking closely. Because under further scrutiny, one would notice the deep gash only partially hidden by the puffed up feathers, and the bones peeking out underneath them.

You stared at the dead owl and it stared back.

It hooted.

"I know, I said I'm coming!" the voice from inside the house shouted. The footsteps neared. Loki and you braced against whatever you'd have to face.

The door creaked open.

Many thoughts had passed through your mind, but one thing you didn't expect to see was a spotty-faced, alarmingly skinny young man in jeans and a cloud of smoke surrounding him. You got a facefull of an aroma that reminded you of college dorms. You wondered if Loki thought he’d met the wrong end of a skunk.

"Listen," he said, gesticulating wildly. "I know that y'all always want shit, but my grandma is still on her vacation, and I'm currently busy. She'll surely contact you once she's done, but nothing has changed since last time, and I still don't know when she'll be back."

The owl descended majestically and sat on his still raised hand. The man blinked in mild confusion.

"I fed you already, don't give me that look, Barbara."

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. The owl turned her head backward and noticed both.

"I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure this is the first time we're meeting," Loki forced himself to say after your not-so-subtle nudge to his ribs. "Could we bother you for just a moment?"

"I'm busy, I've got a shift tomorrow and—"

Loki barged in anyway, not interested much in whatever the man had to say.

The little house turned out to be more of a cottage. Even though some work had been done to restore it and make use of modern inventions, the very core of the cottage stayed the same as it possibly had been for decades, if not longer.

The herbs hanging from the ceiling to dry filled the air with a pleasant, if a little heavy smell that clung to skin and clothes alike. The huge chimney was full of wooden planks and blasting enough heat from the other end of the large working space to make you regret wearing winter clothing. Whatever was boiling in the huge iron pot hanging over the blazing fire was unlikely to be edible judging by the consistency and color. Or at least you hoped it was not supposed to be edible.

The owl flew in and perched on a chair.

"Listen, I'd really appreciate it if you could leave me alone," the man groaned, following you.

He took another drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyes red-rimmed. The owl hissed and moved over the chimney, where she sat with as close to an angry expression as a half-dead owl was capable of.

To your left, a rather familiar and highly surprising uniform laid along with medical equipment.

"We'll leave as soon as we get the answers we need," you promised. "And our first question is - who the hell are you, exactly?"

The man blinked. "Are you joking? I thought you were clients."

"What would you sell if we were?"

"I mean," he gestured around. "It's my grandma who deals with potions, but I suppose I could give you a medical check up if you need one? And don't worry if you're dying, that's even better, I've got that covered too. Just make sure to come to me before the decay starts, and I'll put you back on your feet in no time."

"Wait, I'm confused," Loki frowned. "Are you a doctor or a necromancer?"

"My dude, I have no idea where you've been the past few decades, but if you think med staff is capable of making a living from just one job, you honestly should get a reality check. Look around - I literally still live with my grandma and don't even get me started on how much debt I still have to pay off with those stupid side jobs."

"You mean, resurrecting pets?" You looked at the owl. Barbara was not blinking.

"Listen, I'm at the point of my life where I don't ask questions. I just need the money. I want to move out. Have you any idea what it is like to live with your 260 year old grandma who has a better social life than you?"

The silence was a little awkward.

"Precisely."

Loki wanted to take a deep, steadying breath, but whatever the young man had been smoking didn't sit well with Loki's lungs.

"I must ask though, are you raising the dead because you're such a terrible doctor, or is—"

"Paperwork."

Loki blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Have you any idea how much paperwork follows every death? I'd rather bite off my hand than do any more extra unpaid time than I absolutely have to." The man sat at the table and produced a stash of pot from somewhere. With slow, precise movements he started to roll another blunt. You bent your knees to see under the table, but couldn't find any hidden drawers.

Loki nodded at the man’s comment, although he was nowhere near possessing that kind of knowledge. Deaths that he usually participated in involved little to no paperwork.

"Was this involved in one of your recent side-jobs?" Loki put the little wooden box on the table.

The man shook it before opening. Only after sniffing it did the look on his face change to recognition. "Yeah, I think it was. I was paid to get a pin from it. I don't know what happened to it afterward, though. The client just paid and disappeared."

"How did you get it?"

"Mice."

"What?" Loki asked. You looked around, just in case.

"No one cares about mice, especially in huge warehouses. That makes them perfect for the job, especially if they're controlled properly."

The dead owl hooted in agreement. Loki had an idea how the mice had been initially caught.

"That complicates our case," he whispered to you.

"Who paid you?" you asked, hoping that the answer wouldn't be...

"I don't know," the young man shrugged. "Some guy in a trenchcoat and lots of shiny money. My favorite kind of a client."

The man suddenly had a few golden coins out and in his hand. You hadn’t even seen his hands go under the table that time. The coins were heavy and most definitely not fake, although you didn't recognize any of the symbols they bore.

Loki did.

"Do you think that agent of yours will cover any extraterrestrial expenses?" he asked, watching the reflexes shine on the golden surface.

"Where are we going?"

"To the biggest black-market-turned-casino-turned-complete-mess of a planet in the universe."

"How lovely," you said.

Barbara agreed, hooting happily as she hopped off the chimney and landed on Loki's shoulder.

"Take her." The young necromancer yawned sleepily. "She hates me anyway. Just remember not to give her any pickles. She's got terrible gas."

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki series #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki fanfic #avengers loki

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hopelessly-me · 3 years ago

Note

Winterhawk in a haunted house

Hehehehe. Okay so- I didn't know what flavor of haunted house you wanted- like paranormal or jump scare. But I went with paranormal. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Winterhawk, rated T. Mostly silly and goofy but probably contains a swear word or twelve. 1868 words.

“Spooky spooky spooky,” Clint muttered as he climbed the stairs inside the old Victorian house, using his flashlight to check the floor below them, half expecting someone to be standing there ominously. Just the thought of it raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Clint,” Bucky said, half annoyed from the sounds of it. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Yeah, I used to not believe in aliens too,” Clint said as Bucky reached the top floor and looked either way before turning right. “And then I met gods and had an alien try to makeout with me, and then Venom did makeout with me.”

“Not sure those things correlate, doll,” Bucky said gently as he opened a door and peeked into a room. “Oh hey look, it’s you,” Bucky said brightly before he flashed a light into the room, illuminating a few dozen dolls. “You’re my doll, and these are some dead person’s dolls.” Clint glowered at Bucky, not amused. “Come on. Six hours and we can go.”

“I really don’t see why I have to be punished for you losing a bet with Sam,” Clint grumbled, leaving that room and hoping that was the only room with those porcelain abominations in it.

“Yeah, I thought that was implied in the whole ‘til death do us part’ part of our marriage contract,” Bucky replied, closing the door after Clint. “I have to deal with your stupid shit, so you are stuck doing my stupid shit. Forever.”

“Charming. Romantic even. Ten out of ten recommend,” Clint rambled on.

Everything about this house screams demon in the basement. The furniture was old and covered in fabric which was under inches of dust. The shades on the lamps were at least from the fifties, cobwebs in the shades and gleaming off the metallic bases, shimmering in the dim light. The floorboards creaked under even the slightest amount of pressure.

It was spooky and Clint hated spooky. It was right up there with magic, might even be tied for first place. He could handle fake haunted houses- he had done them when he was in the circus, learned how to pickpocket that way even. But places that were rumored to be haunted? Yeah- that’s where Clint threw in the towel.

“Spooky spooky spooky,” Clint whispered as he followed behind Bucky as they toured the house, Bucky holding a camcorder like the old man he was. But was Clint going to comment on it? No. Because that old man was the only thing between him and whatever creature from hell lived in the basement. If push came to shove, Clint was fairly certain he would sacrifice Bucky and take off running. That might result in a divorce but… Clint had been divorced before, right? He could handle being divorced.

“Clint.”

“Leave me alone,” Clint sang as he peered into a bathroom. Back in the day, Clint had a feeling this bathroom was glorious- the tub alone was so deep he was pretty sure he could properly soak in it. Now- it was lackluster at best. Clint closed the door and caught a glimpse of Bucky as he went to go back downstairs.

“Why do you believe in ghosts anyway?” Bucky asked as they walked into the kitchen. The kitchen from hell. The murder room. It looked like a murder room.

“Agnes from the circus,” Clint answered.

“She was a con.”

“Oh, she was definitely a con when it came to reading people, but she wasn’t a con when it came to a lot of other things,” Clint answered. “She’s the one who taught me not to whistle in the woods, and to leave weird things found in the woods alone.” Bucky reached to pick something up and Clint slapped his hand. “No.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Bucky said, turning around, camera coming closer to Clint. “Tell everyone how much fun you are having, sunshine.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “I would rather drink bleach than stay in here overnight.”

“Clint.”

“I mean, yay, look at me, having so much fun,” Clint said in a monotone voice. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Just so we are clear, if Mothman climbs out of the basement, I am shoving you down the stairs and running for it.”

“You know what? If Mothman comes out from that basement, you don’t even have to push me,” Bucky said with far too much confidence for Clint’s taste. “I will gladly stand between you and a Lunar moth.” Bucky turned around and walked. “How about this? Why don’t we talk about something else to get your mind off of whatever Agnes traumatized you with.”

“Yeah, sure- let’s make that attempt,” Clint said.

“Since I am forced to do this as punishment… why don’t we gossip about the others?” Bucky asked. “Like… did you know Sam actually owns more Avengers merch than he admits to?”

“... he what?” Clint asked.

“Yep. I raided his apartment one day when he was gone because I was going to set up a prank and I looked in his closet. He has a Captain America teddy bear,” Bucky said.

“You’re lying.”

“Swear on my mother’s grave,” Bucky said. “He has Cap bear, and a Iron Man figurine.”

For what it was worth, Bucky was very good at distracting Clint from their situation. Clint was into the gossip, whether it was Bucky telling him things or Clint sharing what he knew, careful to skirt over anything about Natasha because he didn’t have a death wish. And when they weren’t gossiping, they were talking about needing to go for a grocery run and needing to buy new pet beds because Lucky had decided the beds were stuffed animals. Which then turned into needing to send Lucky to Kate and America’s for a bit so they could take a vacation. Clint wanted a beach vacation- any excuse to lay under the sun was his favorite thing. Bucky wanted to go tour historical sites, which Clint knew he would cave to because he liked seeing the wonder in Bucky’s eyes when he toured sites he had only heard about or seen on television. Scratch that- he was a sucker for anything that Bucky did. Since when did he become a sap?

They finally settled down and were sitting in the living room, both of them wordlessly agreeing that sitting on the furniture wasn’t an option so they cuddled up in a corner. Bucky had set up a lantern so they could see what was around them, and they used their sleeping bags under their legs to prop them up better. Clint reached over and held Bucky’s hand and fiddled with his wedding ring, smiling as it gleamed. Bucky took care of that ring like he did his arm. He was constantly cleaning it, checking to make sure it was perfect. Clint was currently on replacement ring number three- which averaged to one ring per year so he was taking that as a win.

The conversation fell and Clint snuggled up, resting his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He was exhausted, unable to sleep the night before. Clint went to close his eyes, maybe take a nap, and that’s when he heard it- a creak on the floor above them. He tightened his hold on Bucky’s hand and looked up.

“Its an old house,” Bucky reminded Clint. “And it’s windy out. Creaks are going to happen.”

Clint nodded and settled in again. Bucky was right- houses settled and creaks, and the wind was howling outside occasionally. But then the creak happened again before he heard what sounded like a boot step, followed by another step, and another. And they had toured that house, twice, top to bottom, minus the basement because Clint outright refused, and there was nowhere anyone could have hidden that they wouldn’t have seen. They were trained, for goodness sake- if there was a place to hide, they would have checked it.

The creaking ended at the top of the stairs and Clint and Bucky both leaned over to peer up the stairs. “Someone probably snuck in here and is trying to mess with us. Probably Natasha.”

“Probably my sleep paralysis demon catching up to me,” Clint muttered.

Bucky turned his head to look at Clint. “I understood that reference and I worry about you.” Bucky got up. “I’m going to go check.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I know you have watched horror movies. That never ends well,” Clint insisted.

“I love you but you need to start taking therapy seriously,” Bucky said, grabbing his flashlight and heading towards the stairs.

“As if you are one to talk. How many knives you got on you?” Clint retorted. “Not that you can stab a ghost to death.” Bucky waved him off and stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up, slowly moving his flashlight to get a better image. Clint half-assed crawled over a few places to take a peek for himself.

“Well, I don’t get to stab a ghost because there is no such thing as-” Bucky began to say before there was a noise from the kitchen. Bucky frowned and turned his flashlight. “... definitely Natasha. She uses windows.”

“Hey! Hey! You can’t just leave me here,” Clint said, scrambling to get us. “Again. Horror movies. Respect the horror movies.” Bucky just waved him off and disappeared into the kitchen. “... dammit.” Clint snatched his flashlight on his way to the kitchen to follow Bucky. “Listen, I know you think it’s dumb but I really think- Buck?”

Bucky was staring at the floor, his head tilted to the side. Clint walked over to him and looked at a knife that was on the floor. Clint’s eyes traveled from the knife over the cabinets, every single one of them open.

“You alright?” Clint asked.

“It… just came flying out,” Bucky said. He reached out and waved his hand around before he picked up the knife, using his flashlight to inspect it. “But there’s no string attached.” Clint leaned over Bucky and looked at the knife as well, frowning.

“Spooky.”

A noise caught their attention and they both looked over at the basement door. It sounded like someone coming up the stairs, heavy footsteps and creaking boards. Clint slowly started to stand up, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

But just as quickly as all the noises came, everything seemed to stop. Clint hadn’t realized he was gripping onto the back of Bucky’s shirt, slowly letting it go and smoothing it out. Bucky was starting to lose his tension, his muscles starting to relax it seemed.

“So… that was weird,” Bucky commented. “Should we go-”

“You will have to drag my corpse to that basement if you want me to go with you,” Clint said. “I want to go find a corner, I want to take my hearing aids out, and I want to sleep. Or try to sleep.”

Bucky turned and smiled, reaching a hand up to hold Clint’s face. “I promise that if I see Mothman or… whatever… I will wake you up and let you have the headstart.”

Clint smiled a little and leaned down and kissed him. “My hero,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips.

#winterhawk #spooky season prompts #a wild prompt appeared #thanks for the fun prompt!

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

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Lake

Tumblr back at it again with deleting my posts ;-;

So yeah.... reupload of that Parent!Eret and Fundy fic.

They ran a hand through their messy brown hair, the sun beating down at them from above as they settled against the smooth surface of a marble column. Their bones ached with fatigue.

Eret watched as the clouds rolled by in the sky, a calm afternoon breeze sweeping through the newly built land of New L’Manburg. It had been over a month since Dream had dethroned and casted them from their castle, tossed to the agitated wolves that comprised Pogtopia’s army. They could still feel the harsh glares that everyone had burned into Eret’s skin, the distrust in their gazes.

They pulled the flimsy brown cloak tighter around their shoulders, a piece of old clothing that Niki had cheerfully given to them the moment they had expressed their desire to move into New L’Manburg. Niki felt like their only ally in a country that detested their very existence. Not that they could blame everyone… not after what they did. The nightmares still plagued his mind, the horror in their companions’ eyes as it dawned upon them what Eret had done. There were nights where they would stare at the ceiling, Eret’s pure white eyes the only light source in a desolate room that felt too suffocating despite its spacious quarters. There wasn’t a day that went by where their heart didn’t ache with regret. Would they be here now if they had refused Dream’s offer in the beginning? Was all of this Eret’s fault? It felt like it was… Wilbur would be alive if they―

“Eret!”

They glanced up, freezing before a familiar pair of fox ears caught their eye. A soft smile formed on their lips as Fundy sat down beside them, a wide grin on his face as he fiddled with something in his hands. Eret had no doubt that Fundy had just gotten back from scamming some poor unknowing soul. Fundy’s gold-flecked brown eyes glanced at the large unfinished structure behind them, his brows furrowing as his ears twitched at the top of his head. Eret pursed their lips, wondering how Fundy would react to the building’s true purpose. They had thought it best if they had tried to create a museum in honor of… the first L’Manburg. It felt ironic… but someone had to do it. No matter how much it stung to go through memories of the past. It had to be done.

“Gold for the king.” Fundy’s voice broke through their thoughts, casting away the haze that had plagued him for days. There was a cheerful smile on Fundy’s face, his hands holding what seemed to be a stack of gold. Eret blinked at the offering, their mouth agape with confusion as they finally looked into the fox hybrid’s eyes. Fundy’s tail was curled around his waist, his ears twitching as he waited for Eret’s reply. Eret hadn’t the faintest clue on what to say. Their last conversation was years ago, during that strange time where Fundy decided to decorate their castle with faux flamingoes. Eret missed those flamingoes. “They’re not stolen, Eret. You gotta trust me on that.”

“I trust you, Fundy.” Eret’s hand hovered above the gold, guilt striking their heart at the momentary thought of this being a scam. Fundy bit his bottom lip, not missing the way they hesitated before taking the gold into his hold. Eret carefully tucked the gift away into their inventory, a small smile on their face. “I do believe you, Fundy. You have to understand my hesitation, I’m not quite on anyone’s friend list regardless of my ‘change of heart’ during the final war. What is this gold for?”

“I don’t have any use for them…” Eret knew a lie when they heard one, they know what it was like to lie. Fundy’s gaze shifted to the side, his fingers twitching before they finally settled into picking at his sleeve. Eret reached out a hand, gently moving Fundy’s hand away from his jacket’s sleeve. They didn’t want Fundy to tear into the cloth. “And… I heard about the dethroning thing.”

“You just found out now?” Eret raised a brow at that. They assumed everyone knew by now, Dream didn’t exactly keep George’s coronation a private affair. “I’m not a king. I never was.”

“I refuse to call George a king.”

“Well, he’s the new king. There is nothing to be done about that.” They pressed their fingers at the bridge of their shades, pushing up as it had begun to slip. “And how are you, Fundy?”

Eret turned to Fundy, their piercing gaze causing the fox hybrid to shift in place. They didn’t miss the way Fundy’s shoulders shook, the poorly concealed dark circles beneath his eyes. Though Fundy kept a smile on his face, their was a pain in his eyes that made Eret’s heart pang with a familiar regret. Everyone had lost something during the war, but Fundy most of all. He had lost his father, his home, his birthright, and now… Eret knew Fundy didn’t know what to do with himself. They were both foreigners in a land that regarded them with distaste and with mockery. They were the outcasts, the forgotten, and the traitors. No one wanted either of them.

“I’ve been… busy. Did you know it takes an entire week to fill in a crater? Well… half a crater. Tubbo made the presidential decision to build on top of the corpse of the old L’Manburg. It’s been great. It’s been great.” Eret watched as Fundy’s tail bristled at his own words, his shoulders hunching up as he kicked at a loose pebble on the ground. They hadn’t offered their services in the rebuilding of L’Manburg, not that Tommy would have allowed them to help. Fundy sat down, pulling his knees closer to his chest as he buried his head in his arms. Eret crouched down beside him. “Oh… and Wilbur’s back. Ghostbur… You know Ghostbur, right? He doesn’t remember much. He doesn’t remember what I did… what he did… and I think… he barely remembers me…”

There’s a wobble in Fundy’s voice, a strained sob that seemed to have been forced down. Eret placed a hand on his back, small tremors racing up and down Fundy’s spine. They could hear the soft sniffles, muffled but clearly there. Eret wondered when was the last time Fundy allowed himself to cry. They felt sick… who taught Fundy to cry so quietly? Eret took a deep breathe, hoping that they wouldn’t find claws digging into their skin in just a few seconds. They pulled Fundy into a hug, the fox hybrid stilling in their hold before finally melting into the touch. Fundy’s arms wrapped around their neck, his head leaning against Eret’s chest. Eret pulled him closer.

“It’s okay, Fundy. You’re allowed to mourn. It’s just the two of us right now… and you know I would never judge you.” Fundy was violently shaking in his hold, a cold chill spreading across Eret’s shirt as Fundy began to cry. Eret placed a hand on the top of Fundy’s head, caressing his still ash-covered hair. It had been a month and yet the residue of war still haunted Fundy, both physically and mentally. Eret closed their eyes, basking in the silence of the afternoon. They rarely got visitors to the museum, and even if someone were to stumble upon them, Eret would make they didn’t see Fundy. Fundy never did like to cry in front of people. Their heart broke as Fundy let out a soft whimper. Maybe… maybe if they hadn’t betrayed L’Manburg during the first war, Fundy would still have a dad. Fundy wouldn’t be an orphan. A scared and unwanted orphan.

“Thank you.” Fundy moved away, wiping at the tears in his eyes. Eret gave him a soft smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. Fundy sniffed, holding onto their hand as if it was a lifeline. It was times like these where they were reminded that Fundy was just a kid… now he was an orphan. The thought terrified them. Fundy may be Techno’s nephew but everyone knew Techno wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if given the chance. Eret couldn’t let that happen. Not to Fundy. “Shit. Sorry. I can… uh… pay you more gold for the shirt. Fuck. You shouldn’t have seen me like this.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Fundy. I remember when you were but a kit… you were a lot shorter then. You were terrified of me at the start, commenting on my… odd eyes. It took a while but you eventually warmed up to me. You rarely cried as a kid, but when you did you always ran to me. Years have passed… but one thing remains unchanged. No matter what happened – no matter what may happen – I am still your confidante. You need not be wary to come to me in your time of need.” A smile found its way to Fundy’s lips, a momentary joy that didn’t sit right with Eret. The tearstains remained on Fundy’s cheeks, a reminder that not all was quite well. Fundy… Fundy needed someone. Someone who could protect him. Someone who could bring back the life into those dull brown eyes. Fundy needed a parent. Eret didn’t know if they were the right person, but Fundy needed someone who cared. “Hey… You’re an orphan now―”

“Thanks for ruining the moment, Eret. No need to rub it in―”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that, Fundy. I would never― It’s just…”

They glanced over at him. Fundy’s ears were pressed against the top of his head, his eyes narrowing into thin slits as he bared his teeth. Eret wished he hadn’t begun in the way they did.

“You need a dad.” Fundy paused at that, glancing up at them in shocked silence. Eret fiddled with the bottom of their shirt, the proposal hanging in the air between them. They didn’t know if they would be enough – didn’t know if Fundy even wanted them – but Fundy needed to be safe. He needed someone who would think of him first – someone who would choose Fundy before anything. Someone who would show him that he mattered. Fundy bit his bottom lip, eyes casted low to the ground… but he moved a bit closer to Eret. After a few seconds, Fundy looked up once more, a cautious look in his gaze as he waited for Eret to say what they wanted. “You need someone who could care for you. Someone who would make you feel wanted. I may not be the best option, Fundy. Anyone else might be better suited for such a task. But if you will have me… then I would like to take you in. What I’m saying is… I want to adopt you, Fundy.”

The silence made their heart burn with ache. Of course, Fundy wouldn’t want them. Why would he? “I know you want someone else, anyone else. I know you probably have some semblance of hate for me. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have asked… I’m sorry, Fundy. I-I-I’ll be leaving―”

Eret felt a hand grab at the collar of their shirt, yelping as they were pulled into an embrace. They held their breath. Fundy burrowed his head into the crook of their neck, his shoulders shaking as another bout of tears escaped the fox hybrid’s eyes. Eret returned the embrace, holding him closer to himself as if that would be enough to block him from the cruel world they lived in. Right now… all that mattered was the two of them.

“All I ever needed… was someone who wanted me more than I loved myself.”

They swore right then and there that they would be the best parent Fundy would ever have. Eret placed a hand on the back of Fundy’s head, holding him closer. They would be okay… Eret would make sure of it.

“I’ll try for you, Fundy. I promise… I’ll be here for you for as long as you need me.”

~~~

“Come onnnnnnnnn.” They chucked as Fundy pulled at the sleeve of their shirt, forcing Eret quicken their pace on the creaky wooden pier. The sun was setting in the distance, casting the lake in an ethereal glow of molten gold. Fundy had begged them to take him on a fishing trip – claiming to know the perfect spot to do so – and as Eret looked over at the serene waters, they were glad Fundy had suggested the idea. Fundy’s eyes held a spark, an excited gleam that Eret wished would never disappear. As they reached the end of the path, Fundy handed them a fishing rod. Eret didn’t know much about fishing, but it was worth seeing Fundy so giddy… almost child-like as he sat down near the edge, his legs dangling over the water. “Are you going to keep standing there?”

Eret blinked, casting a look towards the fox hybrid before taking a seat next to him. A soft wind blew past them, small waves fluttering through the water’s surface. They ran a hand through their hair, nearly knocking off the flower crown that Fundy had made for them earlier on in the day.

It was a cold afternoon, one that sent goosebumps down Eret’s skin as they looked up into the dying sky. A beautiful hue of pink, orange, and purple painted the sky with their radiance as fading gray clouds moved towards the distance. They looked back down at the lake. Its edges crowned by a massive display of pink flowers. Eret wondered who could have possibly had the time to plant them. Niki did say she was building a flower shop with Puffy… and a flower shop certainly needed flowers. Eret was brought out of their musings by a hand on their shoulder. They looked over at Fundy, a nervous glint in his eyes as he looked down at the unused fishing rod in his hands. Eret raised a brow at him, turning to cast their own hook into the water. They watched as the bobber floated up and down on the water’s surface, they waited for a few seconds, but Fundy didn’t follow after them. They threw a look towards the person in question, “Fundy? What’s wrong?”

“I um…” They watched as Fundy fiddled with the rod, his fingers biting into the wood as he looked out into the lake. His ears were pressed against his head as his shoulders hunched up. It only took Eret a second to realize what was wrong. They quickly moved closer to Fundy, pulling back their own fishing rod as they placed it on the space behind them. They clasped their hands over Fundy’s, a gentle hold that made Fundy’s tail wag a bit. Fundy chuckled, embarrassed that he couldn’t exactly hide the way he felt. “Wilbur used to promise me, when I was younger, that he would teach me how to fish. The wars and the election kinda pushed that back on his busy schedule, ya know?”

“I know. Wilbur… he was a busy man. I’m sure he planned to teach you… once the wars were over.” They both winced at that bittersweet lie. Wilbur didn’t plan anything after the war. He knew exactly what needed to be done and he didn’t once spare a thought for the people he’d leave behind. Eret shook their head at the thought, pushing down the horrible feel of loathing that threatened to form in their chest. Wilbur was a good father, he was just a revolutionary first. Eret turned back to the task at hand, helping Fundy hold the fishing rod in a proper manner before getting their own. Fundy’s gaze never strayed, watching as Eret held the fishing rod in the same way Fundy was holding it. “I didn’t fish as mush as Wilbur, but I could teach you the basics. If you want me to.”

Eret laughed as Fundy nodded his head, his flower crown nearly falling off. Eret had promised themselves to work on the museum, but when Fundy strolled in – a myriad of flowers in his arms – Eret knew their productive day was as good as gone. They didn’t mind, not when Fundy looked so happy… so carefree, as if the burdens of the past had vanished. Somedays… it seemed like everyone forgot that Fundy was just a kid. Fundy may look and act like a teen, but how could a child ever move past the trauma of battle? Everyone had grown up so fast. They all needed a break, a momentary peace where they could just unwind. They would give Fundy a chance at childhood, one that the hands of war took from him. Eret chuckled beneath his breath, Fundy tilting his head as if he wanted to know what Eret found to be so funny. Eret shook his head, giving the fox hybrid a reassuring smile. “I hope you’re a quick learner. Sun’s about to set, want to speedrun this?”

“Spee― pfft. I bet I could catch more fish than you.” Fundy flicked out a tongue at them, laughing despite himself. Eret rolled his eyes at the fox hybrid’s challenge. He couldn’t even fish and he expected to beat Eret? Oh, it was definitely on. Eret shook their head before turning to direct Fundy on how to use the fishing rod. It took a few tries, but Fundy eventually got the hang of it. Eret knew he could do it. Fundy was smart… but there was no way he was beating Eret at fishing.

The sun had disappeared into the sky before Fundy finally caught his first fish. Fundy looked up at it with awe, letting out small noise of surprise. Eret nearly laughed at Fundy practically pushed it into their face in his haste to show it to them.

“ERET! I CAUGHT ONE!”

“You sure did.” Eret smiled, placing a hand on Fundy’s head.

“Are you… are you proud of me?”

“I’m always proud of you, Fundy. I always will be, no matter what.”

~~~

Fundy pulled the brown cloak closer around his shoulders, shivering in the cool night air. The full moon casted a silver glow upon the water’s surface, a white abyss that looked tempting to fall into.

There was a heavy scent in the air, a bitter taste that sent a horrible chill down his spine. He focused on the pink flowers that dotted the lake’s edge, hoping the color would force his thoughts to calm down. It was a silent night in New L’Manburg, the lanterns casting the streets in dim golden rays. Fundy was glad for their presence. They gave him some semblance of comfort and warmth.

The day had been fun. He scammed a few people here and there and spent his entire afternoon with Eret. A smile found its way to his lips at the thought of his soon-to-be parent. It had been a week since Eret had asked him if he wanted to be adopted, and somehow, his world had looked a little brighter ever since that day. Eret looked at him as if he mattered… as if he was wanted. He didn’t know how to feel about that. His heart ached and crumbled at the dark thoughts that plagued his mind. Surely… surely this was a ploy? A trick? Eret wouldn’t want someone like him, right?

He began to pull at the tips of his hair, forcing down the sobs that threatened to slip past his lips. Eret couldn’t possibly be doing this because they cared. No one cared about him. He was a nobody, an orphan of a country long since dead. Who would willingly ever choose him? He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes as tears pricked at the edges. Eret was doing this out of pity… out of some high moral obligation. There was no way… There was no way someone actually wanted him. Who would want him? The child forgotten by his own father and nation? This had to be some sort of cruel prank that would leave him broken by the end. Eret didn’t care. Eret shouldn’t care. His fingers gripped his forearms in a bruising grip as those horrible thoughts ran through his head. Eret didn’t want him. Eret couldn’t possibly want him. Eret would never―

He felt a heavy cloak being draped over his shoulders, a warm hand settling on top of his head. His eyes abruptly snapped open, a familiar pair of shades appearing within his vision. “E-Eret?”

“You shouldn’t be out here, Fundy. I don’t want you getting sick.” Eret made quick work of tying the cloak around Fundy, giving him a soft smile as they looked over at the lake. Fundy felt that strange pang in his heart. Eret sounded so sincere… but Fundy just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Although he tried to hide it, Eret noticed the tears in his eyes. Fundy felt a hand on his cheek, a thumb wiping at the stray tears that had escaped him. Dre, he was pathetic. He leaned into the welcoming touch, wanting to pretend that Eret actually cared for him. “What’s wrong, Fundy?”

“I know you don’t care about me, Eret.”

“What?!” He felt Eret hold him closer, their other hand on his shoulder as if to keep them both steady. Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, wishing that Eret would stop pretending. It was worse that way. Best to rip the band-aid off as quickly as possible. “Fundy, what are you talking about?!”

“You can stop.” Fundy wished he could push them away, wished he was anywhere else but there. “I know you couldn’t possibly care about me. No one cares about me, Eret. I don’t expect you to. So, please stop pretending you do. Everyone leaves me eventually. I know you don’t care―”

He was pulled into a tight yet gentle embrace. Eret’s chin resting on his head.

“Don’t tell yourself those horrible things. I care a lot about you.” Fundy gripped the back of Eret’s shirt, sniffling as Eret rubbed a comforting hand down his back. “I wouldn’t have offered to adopt you if I didn’t. I care… a lot of people care. Fundy… do you really think no one cares about you?”

“They shouldn’t. Don’t you see, Eret? Anyone who’s ever loved me died…” Fundy couldn’t help but think of Wilbur… of Schlatt… of his late mother… Eret shouldn’t care. “I’m cursed, Eret. You’ll leave too… or you’ll die. I don’t want you to die, Eret. I don’t know if I could take it…”

“I suppose I’ll just have to make sure I don’t die then.”

Fundy rubbed at his eyes, tilting his head up to glance into Eret’s eyes… well, shades. Eret had a smile on their face, a reassuring gesture that made Fundy want to cry. “You can’t promise me that, Eret. You can’t promise me that.”

“But I will. You’re my son, Fundy.” He froze at the title. He hadn’t been called that in so long… at least not in a positive way. “I can’t promise you the world, but I can promise you that I care.”

“Heh… I guess you do care…” Fundy sniffled, feeling a smile on his lips as Eret finally let him go. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“We all have our doubts, Fundy. You need not apologize.”

“Yeah…” Fundy held onto Eret’s arm, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline. Eret didn’t make a move to escape his grasp, they only seemed to pull him closer to their side. Fundy laughed despite himself and the ache in his heart. Maybe he was wanted… “Can we go home now, ren?”

Eret smiled, “Of course, son.”

They walked away from the pier, the night wind billowing through their hair. Fundy closed his eyes, content to spend their walk back in comfortable silence.

He was glad to leave… the bitter smell of the foxgloves near the lake had begun to make him sick.

Yet… their poisonous scent lingered in the air.

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So yeah...

This is connected to my previous one-shots titled ‘Clouds V.2.’ and ‘Foxgloves’...

I TRIED TO WRITE A WHOLESOME FIC BUT I DON’T HAVE A SINGLE WHOLESOME BONE IN MY BODY, OKAY?!

But yeah... hope you guys like this :DDD

#fundy #eret #mcyt #wholesome with a lot of angst #because i write angst not wholesome fics dammit #no i refuse to make a better title #i wrote 4k words you think i'm gonna do the title too? no

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kexing · 4 years ago

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Venji has always been endgame: Benji’s attraction to Victor

the first thing I really need people to understand is that Benji is not watching the show, he’s not seeing things through Victor’s point of view, and for the most part of the season he has no idea Victor is struggling with his sexuality. from Benji’s point of view, Victor is straight and into Mia. that’s how I’m going to be analyzing his thoughts and actions (well, guessing mostly because he does lack screen time and insight moments. hopefully we’ll get more of him in season two!!)

btw I’m gonna break it down episode by episode because I’m insane (and I also feel strangely connected to Benji so don’t @ me)

Episode 1 - Welcome to Creekwood

as I’ve mentioned before, you can interpret Benji’s “nice shoes!” line as interest. but even if you’re not willing to do that, I still think it’s valid to consider that he might’ve felt some kind of immediate connection to Victor (if episodes 2 and 3 are any indication of that. and the Call Me Maybe lyrics).

Episode 2 - Stoplight Party

the “Benji attempts to teach Victor how to make a espresso” scene is very much about Victor’s attraction to Benji so I don’t wanna look too much into it. also Benji comes off as (at least for me!) a very attentive and loving person, so his dedication to teaching Victor felt very genuine. but still like...... he did get lost in Victor’s eyes for a moment before the milk spilled akdjksdjjs

then at the end of the episode Benji calls Victor late at night (he even apologizes for that) when he could’ve called Victor at any other time or could’ve just told him at school. and well, (I may be reaching here but headcanons are always good!!) I like to believe Benji couldn’t stop thinking about Victor, which is why he decided to call. for some unknown reason he already feels connected to Victor and wanted to hear his voice and—

let me stop here before I write a whole fanfic because that’s not the purpose of this post.

Episode 3 - Battle of the Bands

oh boy, I’m gonna try to unpack this episode, hopefully I’ll make some sense. I’m very sorry if I fail!

so, Victor and Benji have the Call Me Maybe (cutest) moment, in which Victor tells Benji that he’s going on a date with Mia the next day.

Now. I need you to remember that Victor explicitly told Benji that he and Mia wouldn’t go to the Battle of the Bands and that Benji had already performed when Victor got there and only performed again because his band won the battle (so I’m pretty sure Victor wasn’t supposed to hear the Call Me Maybe cover). therefore this wasn’t Benji confessing his feelings to Victor. if anything, I believe it was his way of dealing with the intense and ever-growing feelings that he has for Victor through his biggest passion (music), pretty much like making a reference to something that you know no one else will understand (since for everyone else it’s just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop).

but then Victor eventually shows up and hears Benji singing Call Me Maybe and for him it’s definitely not just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop anymore. it’s their song

after the performance, it looks like Benji is going to talk to him about it, maybe to try and make it seem like it’s no big deal (since he thinks Victor is into Mia, and he himself is in a long term relationship) but Derek appears and we’re all left heartbroken (Simon & his friends included).

what I’m trying to say is: they are two halves of the same idiot. while Victor is in denial of his sexuality and attraction to Benji, Benji is in denial of his growing feelings for Victor. we love this denial duo

Episode 4 - The Truth Hurts

not much to say about this one BUT. at the beginning of the episode you can see how Victor and Benji are working totally in sync, to the point where they barely need words like the freaking soulmates that they are. honestly, I’m done pretending they aren’t soulmates because this show just kept shoving that into our faces over and over and if you failed to see it then it’s not my problem (or maybe it is since I’m literally spending my time trying to explain exactly that. but I just care too much about these two and I want people to understand why).

then Derek calls and Benji picks up lovingly because he’s a loving person and a caring boyfriend and even though he might be struggling with his feelings for Victor, he’s not about to neglect his boyfriend (shame we can’t say the same thing about Derek) (no I will not stop throwing shade at him).

Episode 5 - Sweet Sixteen

I could try and say several things about this one but for real, BENJI DREW VICTOR AND GAVE HIM THE DRAWING AS A BIRTHDAY GIFT. like! this stupidly artistic boy!!!!!!!!! this stupidly caring boy!!!!!!!!! he could’ve bought Victor literally anything or not even bothered to think of a gift At All, but he took the time to DRAW VICTOR LIKE ONE OF HIS FRENCH BOYS!!!!! what am I supposed to do with this knowledge!!!!

now I’m imagining Benji observing Victor. the way the light hits his face, how his shoulders move, the shape of his hands....... all the while telling himself it’s just to draw Victor!!!!! but that’s still beautiful and frankly thirsty nonetheless.

p.s I was robbed of a scene like that.

Episode 6 - Creekwood Nights

not much to say about this one except the show blatantly telling us that Derek can be real shitty sometimes. also, I wanna talk about Venji’s dynamics throughout the show so bad but it deserves a post of its own so I’m gonna hold my tongue.

Episode 7 - What Happens In Willacoochee

(stays in Willacoochee or maybe it will haunt your gay ass all the way to New York).

oh boy, this is where shit starts going down for real.

so Victor kisses Benji. I’m not going to defend Victor because what he did was reckless and dumb and frankly disrespectful. but I need to say that it was going to happen sooner or later because when you repress something too hard and for too long, it’s bound to come back with full force and explode in your face. I really wish it was in a different circumstance, of course, but also life isn’t always made of perfect situations and shit happens. (and nope, that does not excuse Victor’s actions).

now think about Benji. he’s been struggling with his feelings for Victor, who as far as he knows is straight and in a relationship, and then suddenly Victor kisses him. my best guess (due to his reaction to Victor’s speech in episode 10) is that he thinks Victor isn’t being serious about it, that in no moment that kiss meant anything but curiosity and recklessness, when they both have people to lose (again, he doesn’t know that Victor struggles with his sexuality, much less that Victor has feelings for him).

so yeah, I believe Benji was upset, not only with Victor though, but with himself.

(I’ll come back to this in a second)

no Benji in episode 8 so.......

Episode 9 - Who The Hell Is B

Benji decides to leave the coffee shop. Victor tells him that the kiss wasn’t his fault and Benji says that being around Victor makes him feel guilty, now why is that?

firstly because he’s not a psychopath and the fact that he cheated on Derek makes him feel guilty. but I do believe that that’s not the only thing that makes him feel guilty. deep down he liked kissing Victor. he likes Victor, he’s been doing his best to keep that buried but Victor had to go and complicate things, so now the only way to avoid making a bigger mess is staying as far away as possible from each other. so he runs back to the safety of his relationship with Derek.

(listen, I know the show makes it seem like Benji is super angry and wants nothing to do with Victor but I don’t believe that’s the case. he’s upset and feeling guilty for liking someone else, denial does make you act very hostile sometimes).

Episode 10 - Spring Fling

Benji’s denial continues but (thankfully) it won’t last much longer.

he goes to the bathroom and tells Victor that he’s read his letter and that he does forgive him for kissing him but that that doesn’t change anything, that it’s best for them to stay away from each other.

that’s until he hears Victor’s speech to Derek (which was more to Benji than Derek so). that’s the moment he realizes that Victor actually likes him, that the kiss as cursed as it was had meant something, that they both feel exactly the same thing. that’s what gives him courage to finally accept that he can’t be with Derek anymore because his heart belongs to someone else. (has belonged to Victor from the moment they met) akdjskdjsj someone please tell me to shut up

which leads us to the bench kiss(es) scene. now, these boys are a whole mess because Victor was still technically dating Mia (he did try to come out to her before, couldn’t do it so he decided to come out after the Spring Fling) (good intention, poor execution).

But I also believe this was just lazy writing and they wanted to have a scene where Mia catches Victor and Benji together. it could’ve been done better, they could’ve been just touching foreheads or something but they wanted the full drama so the kiss(es) happened. I’m taking 50 points away from the writers for this. (also does not excuse Victor or Benji since they literally met halfway. these idiots are so in love wtf!)

(I still love them though, and hope they do better in the future, for themselves and for each other).

anyway, I think that’s it! if you read up until this point: thank you so much!!!! I tried my best to understand and explain Benji since the show said fuck Benji stans. hope this helps!

— love, MJ

#lost all my brain cells writing this #love victor #venji #victor x benji #victor salazar #benji campbell #mj talks

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sethrine-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Daughter of a Devil, Ch. 28

Main Characters: Father!Dante & Daughter!Reader

Words: 1457

Warnings: Mild angst, Feels

Story Summary: Being a parent wasn’t easy, nor was there such thing as being perfect at it. Good news for Dante, seeing as how he doesn’t have the slightest idea in hell what to do with a child. Sometimes, he was certain that fighting off a horde of demons was a far better match than keeping up with his own daughter. Well, at least he wasn’t going down without a fight.

A/N: Did someone ask for some father-daughter feels?? No? Oh, well...too bad! Time for feeling!

------

Chapter 28 - What If? (17 yrs.)

The sky above was clouded in a multitude of shades of grey, the swirling masses turning and twisting with the wind and sending a downpour of rain on the city. Lightning flashed brilliantly against the darkness of early evening followed quickly by the loud clatter of thunder.

You could remember a time when you used to be terrified of such storms, when the only comfort you could find was at your father’s side or curled up in his arms. Presently, you found comfort from the storm itself.

“It’s quite the mess out there.”

You turned to glance over your shoulder at Dante, fully aware that he had been standing behind you in the entranceway of your bedroom, watching you carefully. It was to be expected; you certainly had been out of character the past couple of days. You’re dad was an ass on good days, and on better ones, he was more observant than he let on.

“I don’t mind so much. I kind of like it this way.”

“Is that so? Well, that’s a change. Guess you can’t be my scared little girl anymore.”

Dante moved to sit beside you on your bed as you smiled just the slightest, both of you gazing back out the window as you had been doing for the past half hour.

The rain was still just as hard and relentless as it had been since the start of the storm, continuously pattering against the glass pane of your window and creating a mass of flowing streams against its smooth surface. Despite the harshness of the storm, its effects had a sort of calming effect on the atmosphere surrounding the both of you.

“What’s on your mind, squirt? You’ve been quiet today.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. Too much on my mind, you know? I’m just...trying to figure everything out in my head.”

It was a good answer on your part, and Dante would have been pacified by it had he not seen the change these thoughts had provoked in you. It was unsettling to see anything other than the rambunctious, overly-cocky, playfully serious young woman he had come to know.

“Maybe your good ol' pops can help? Can't promise my advice will be anything good.”

His quip at his own expense forced a small chuckle from your mouth, a brighter smile than before finding its way to your lips.

“There’s really nothing you can help me with. I’ve just…I’ve just been curious about how my life’s been playing out. Like, I can’t help but think of all the what-ifs I’ve avoided.”

"What-ifs?" he questioned.

"Yeah, like, what if I never knew all the things I know about demons and stuff? What if I didn’t have this strength, this ability to fight demons, get hurt, and heal up like nothing happened? What if Mom never got sick and was still with us; would she have let me fight like I do now? What if…what if I was born into a normal family, one that was oblivious to all the evils in the world?"

You sighed, threading your fingers together and pressing your thumbs to your chin as you ruminated on your muddled thoughts.

"I can’t seem to stop asking myself these stupid questions."

Silence followed your explanation, a silence filled with a strange sort of tenseness that you hadn’t meant to create. You couldn’t stop such thoughts from just popping up in your head; it was like everything you had known was suddenly being questioned, and, in a way, it was unnerving for you.

“Are you not happy with all of this?”

Your eyes widened at the question uttered from your father, hands coming up and moving back and forth in a panicky sort of motion to ward off any ill-intent on your part. He didn't seem upset, but you still worried he would take your expressed questions as jabs at his parenting.

“N-no! No, Dad, that’s not the case at all! I’m extremely happy with my life and with everyone I have in it. I complain, sure, and I give you a hard time only because you give me one. I honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

Your eyes suddenly became downcast as your mind wandered to those questions that had been plaguing your thoughts as of recently, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Even so, I can’t help but think of these what-ifs that keep running around in my brain. It’s so alarming, thinking of all the possibilities that could have been in my life. I feel like I’ll be left wondering what-if all my life. It makes me think, maybe, I’ll never be satisfied with not knowing.”

Once more, silence filled the room, but this time it wasn’t as threatening as you had first thought it had been.

“Y’know, squirt, there was a time that I used to have those same thoughts.”

You turned to look at your father then, watching him closely as he had done you. His gaze was transfixed to the window and the rain running down it, the slightest smile on his face.

“I used to think, “What if I never met Serenity and accidentally knocked her up; would I still be happy with my life? Would I have ever had the experience of having a daughter -a family- later in life?” So many questions ran through my head during her pregnancy, but that first time I was able to hold you, it felt like all those questions just fell right off the face of the earth.”

The quiet that followed was sobering. The look on Dante’s face was one you had seen before; it was the look of a man that had been through hell and back and was somehow still holding on.

“When your mother died, they came back, and I was left to wonder; “What if Serenity had never gotten sick - would she still want to be with me? Would she still have been as sweet and carefree as she always was while our daughter grew up? Would she be able to tolerate me, knowing the kind of shit I put my life in danger for?””

Dante remained staring out the window, his smile rueful and eyes sad.

“I didn’t know a damn thing about raising a kid, and I was left with all these questions I was never able to answer, these what-ifs that haunted me the moment Serenity took her last breath. But then you were taken from me when you were barely a year old, and it was after I was able to get you back that I realized something.”

“There would always be what-ifs,” he continued, hand reaching out to pat at your own. “There’s always gonna be missed opportunities and things beyond my control. But as long as I have you, as long as I can protect you and this world that I decided to raise you in, all those what-ifs don’t matter."

His smile had transformed into something more serene as he turned to look at you, the sadness in his gaze turning to fondness.

“What if I never had you? I’ve thought of that, too. And I figured that if I didn’t have you, then I wouldn’t have a world to steady myself on. You are my world. As long as I have you, my life is complete, and that is worth more than all the what-ifs I’ve ever thought of.”

You could feel your heart flutter at your father’s words, a feeling that had tears escaping your eyes before you had a chance to stop them. You quickly wiped them from your cheeks and looked away, knowing he had seen them.

No teasing would be thrown your way, at least not at that moment.

“You’re so cheesy, old man.”

A deep chuckle left Dante, one that left a smile on your lips despite the tender ache in your heart.

“Maybe, but at least I’m honest. Speaking of cheese, how about we order us a pizza?”

“In this weather? You’ll be lucky they even get here at all.”

“I’ll make half the order with extra olives, my treat.”

You sent a skeptical sort of look Dante’s way before laughing slightly and wiping the remaining trails of tears from your cheeks.

“You’re a bad liar, Mr. Honesty.”

“Got you to smile, though,” he retorted with an exaggerated grin of his own, hopping up from the bed and offering his hand.

“C’mon, squirt, dinner’s calling our name.”

Smiling, you reached out and allowed your father to pull you to your feet, following him out of your room and downstairs to the main lobby.

The rain continued to pour heavily upon the city of Redgrave, still just as comfortably as when you were alone.

#devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry dante #dmc dante #reader #reader-insert #female reader #Daughter of a Devil

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mrdragonageherself · 4 years ago

Text

The first time it happened it totally caught him by surprise.

Seeing her.

He didn’t want to leave the house, he wasn’t ready to be seen - to be known. But the booze had run dry and the fridge was empty and he knew he needed to at least have… Something. He didn’t feel like eating but he didn’t want to get his stomach pumped and have to face Steel.

So he put on his ugliest hoody, pulled his hood up, put on dark sunglasses and went out.

At first it was just a smell, that honey jasmine shampoo she used - just a waft - was enough to snap his head up, have him looking around. And he saw her, a glimpse of her dark brown hair as she turned the corner ahead into the sunlight. His chest broke open, set his heart alight, exposed like a raw nerve.

“Corinne!”

He couldn’t stay still, couldn’t risk losing her. No. Not again. She couldn’t slip away. Not like - not like.

He was running before he realised he was even moving, around the corner in a flash but she was gone.

He looked all around, grabbing a nearby woman with brown hair to check her face, but no she was not even similar - her hair long and straight, her nose was all wrong, her eyes a dark brown - and he spun in circles looking.

He saw her. He saw her! She was just there! Where could she have gone? But she wasn’t there. There was no one and the passers by looked increasingly concerned - afraid. Where was she?

She was just here. She was just in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want her to hurt herself but - but she got away from him anyways. And she - She slipped away, she fell. She jumped?

But she had just been there. He had seen her!

He felt his throat closing up, the sun felt too bright, everyone was staring. Looking at him like he was unhinged, the woman he grabbed cowering away from him like he would hurt her.

No. He’s not a villain. He’s not…

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out of clenched teeth. “I thought you were someone else.”

Not her. Not her this time.

It didn’t stop him from hitting the liquor store, trembling the entire way.

The next time it happened felt natural, like she was never gone.

She was standing in the stoop next to a cafe, leaning against the wall ankles crossed the way she always did, her smile crooked as usual as she smirked at something someone said to her, holding her cigarette between two fingers lazily as usual - it might drop.

She always managed to drop her cigarette if she got caught up talking. ‘Oh shit!’ and she’d laugh and pick it up, pretend to brush it off, take a long hard pull to keep it lit and he’d watch how her cheeks would hollow as she pulled, the way she puckered her lips.

Ice shot through his veins. Lightning struck. She was so close. She was here! Tears spilled before he felt the urge to cry. The desperation.

Please .

He grabbed her by the elbow.

“Cori -!” The woman - not Corinne - turned to face him and the spell was broken. Not Corinne. No, this woman’s eyes were heavy lidded and a dull blue. Not Corinne. Not her eyes that lit up like molten gold when the sun hit them, the flecks of sea glass green only noticeable when you got close. No, this muted blue absorbed the sun. Not Corinne. This woman was in a mini skirt, legs exposed to the sun - Corinne never showed her legs. No, how could he be so stupid.

Disappointment hit like a tonne of bricks, a bowling ball in his stomach weighing his whole body down. The adrenaline spike leaving his body a wasted husk.

“I - I’m so sorry, pardon me,” he felt unreal. His throat choking his words, tears falling heavily. Gently pat her arm as you go. Not Corinne. He could hear the woman’s whispers with her friends as he walked away. Wasn’t that Charge?

But it wasn’t Corinne. No, Corinne was - she was gone.

He saw her fall. He let her go. He let her slip away from him. He didn’t hold her tight. He let her come with him. Let her jump.

The trembling never stopped. Cold sweat and gnashed teeth fighting his body’s will to just give up then and there, fighting step by knee knocking step to get away from there.

Not Corinne. Not his Rinne. She was gone - he let her go.

He stumbled down the street, burning inside the whole way. There was tequila at home. Beer. He could see her in his dreams.

The worst times were the most gentle. When she didn’t disappear right away.

It wasn’t his usual haunt, Wei might find him then. Drag him back to his apartment and sober him up.

He was many things at this point in time, but one thing he could not be was sober. That was not for him. Not with Becker gone.

Ortega’s head was spinning, he was unable to keep it upright when the manager walked by and told the bar staff to cut him off. But they didn’t make him leave. So he sat at the bar, head on the dark wooden counter letting the world spin. Misery washed over him in waves, knocking him farther and farther down. The pressure was too much, the waves felt like they wouldn’t stop till he was in the dirt.

He felt movement next to him so he turned his head to see who had moved to sit next to him.

He felt his heart stop - but he was too heavy with drink to fully react.

She sat next to him. Tapping a box of her menthol smokes off the bartop, pulling one out (not the upside down, the one she turned around the second she opened a new pack, the lucky one - not that one), giving him that crooked side smile as she placed it between her teeth.

“Think they let you smoke in here?” She asked. She threw him a disparaging glance, the way she always did when he got messy. His heart felt so full. Tears spilled from his eyes though he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. He was afraid to reach for her, the second he touched her she would leave the way she always did. “You look like shit.”

He coughed out a bark of a laugh, a wet soggy sound, as the tears fell. She was swimming in his vision. The world spinning, the tears making her blurry, but it was her. Eyes just the right shade of bright hazel, skin the right pale olive, mole on her cheek, her feet not able to reach the floor from the top of the bar stool.

“Yeah.” Was all he could croak. She would come back like this. All blase. Like she was never gone.

“Didn’t take you for a wallower, old man.” She scoffed as she lit up her cigarette, regardless of whether or not she was supposed to.

“You jumped.” He explained to her, like it was news to her. God, why wouldn’t the tears stop? He just wanted to see her. Feel her warmth. Hear her voice.

“Happens.” Was all she said by way of explanation, on the exhale of her drag. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He barked out another laugh. He was so happy, his heart felt so full, so warm. He felt delirious.

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re paying for the drinks, right? Nearly dying doesn’t do great things for your finances. Plus.” She looked him up and down, looking annoyed but there was a warmth there. She was happy to see him. “I think you’re done for the night.”

“Probably.” He had so much to say, but he couldn’t get it out. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, rolling slowly, lazily out of his eyes, soaking his sweater. She was here. She was alive.

She motioned to the bartender and had a beer off tap placed in front of her. Typical. Always happiest with the cheapest beer. Said she could taste the entitlement in craft beers. Fancy wasn’t her style.

“Gonna give me more than one word replies or are you too drunk?” She grinned at him, sharp and wicked the way she always did when she was teasing him.

“Yeah.” He hiccuped a half sob, half laugh in response and Corinne threw her head back and laughed loudly, her typical hyena cackle. An ugly laugh she called it, but there was nothing more beautiful to his ears. He found himself laughing along with her laugh through the tears.

“Why did you go?” He finally asked when the laughter faded back into sobs. He missed her. He missed her so, so much.

She looked at him sadly and opened her mouth to respond.

“Ricardo?”

Ortega’s head reactively snapped to the voice calling his name, turning to see his best friend Wei Chen, a concerned frown on his face.

Of course he’d find him.

“Who are you talking to?”

He snapped his head back to Corinne but she was gone - like she was never there, just the faint smell of menthol cigarette smoke.

A feeling of desperation clawed its way up Ortega’s throat once more, one he didn’t have the energy to stop or react to. The tears spilled out hot acid now, not warm and soft. These were thick and burning his skin.

“Where’d she go?” He whispered, as though he didn’t know. As if it wasn’t his fingers she’d slipped through. As if he wasn’t the one to lead her to her death. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to want to fight but the alcohol, the sadness weighing down his limbs prevented him and he couldn’t move, could only feel his throat close up as his head spun and his stomach lurched painfully.

Chen looked at him full of pity. He didn’t want pity. Chen couldn’t understand, he never liked Corinne and certainly never loved her. Not like Ortega loved her. Chen didn’t watch his heart put a gun in her mouth, he didn’t have to fight the love of his life to stop her from shooting herself only to slip out of his grasp at the last moment. Only to watch her plunge to her death.

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. Steel would be a better Marshall than Ortega ever was. He would’ve made the right call that day. He wouldn’t have let any more people die. Corinne would still be here. Anthema too.

“ ‘Rinne was here…” It came out as a moan as Chen pulled Ortega from his bar stool, wrapping his arm around him and carrying him out.

“Rinne was here.” He insisted through tears, unable to hold his own weight.

“I know.” Was all Wei replied, holding him gently as he took him back to his apartment to get him cleaned and sobered up.

Eventually Ortega got numb to it. She didn’t stop appearing, but he got used to it. He could live with her phantoms if it meant she never went away. That he could see her still in some form.

So when he found her in a random diner, he wasn’t too shocked. She looked different than she usually did, but that might’ve been a reflection on him. He was letting himself live again, maybe it was killing her.

But this time she didn’t disappear when she spoke to him.

She was smoking tobacco, the type you roll yourself not the pre-rolled menthol type from a carton. That was new too.

This time when she stood up to leave and he hugged her. She stayed. This time she didn’t disappear.

This time she was real.

So real it felt unreal.

She was different, angrier, sadder, older. Said she wasn’t a telepath anymore. But she was alive. He was so scared she’d disappear. He took her to see Chen under the guise of needing her advice for Angie. But really he just needed to make sure she was real. And that he hadn’t finally just snapped.

But she was there. She was real.

And when she left, went home he couldn’t stop shaking.

She was back. She was real. His heart was home.

#fanfic #m!ortega #f! Sidestep #chen #fallen hero #angst

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years ago

Text

coming back was a mistake?

the reader bonds with kai over their shared dislike of mystic falls

previous part

kai parker x fem!reader

word count: 4180

music: cherry by lana del rey, stella maris by moby

She came to the football field every evening at approximately the same time. Kai started weighing which sight he liked more: the pretty smart dog catching its frisbee in the air, or the grumpy girl in her skin-shade top, running around like the devil was trying to bite her in the ass.

Well, the dog hopped so high, and it was so lively! Plus, dogs are all adorable.

But the crop top though.

After several evenings Kai started noticing the pattern. She always stood in one place, as she was catching her breath, and looked at the clouds. She might not even notice she stops at the same very spot every time she finishes running. After the second evening, and after she left, Kai came down to the court and put a scratch five inches long on the ground with a jackknife. She always stood exactly there. He looked up into the now darkened sky, seeing the first stars, and pondered, as if her thoughts could be captured by him now, floating there, above where she’d been. What was she crying about so gravely? Her hands were shaking as she pressed them into her mouth, like children do. After she was done, she walked away to her house, relieved, and didn’t look back.

That was puzzling. Might as well busy himself with the mystery of the sad moody girl who cries on the football field every evening, while he’s waiting for the merge.

You stood, silently praising yourself for throwing your jacket into the car at the last moment (come on, monkey! we ain’t got any more time! Damon was yelling. He couldn’t hide how much he liked it when you came to visit every year, and you felt bad for despising the visits). The wind was unusually ferocious for the warm month, but then again, this place was deep in the waterfall region, up in the hills, an open spot. Plus, there must have been some hardcore magic ingrained right in the soil. As you stood, and watched, while the Salvatore brothers were humping and cracking their backs, digging up the earth, you pretended to feel the magic oozing out. The burial places always felt special. Having lived in Mystic Falls, you worked up this rare type of intuition.

You didn’t want to come. As you returned, and was busted by the Mystic Falls gang on the very first evening, you reminded them of your foremost rule: you do not engage in their bullshit anymore. Let them fight all the original vampires of the planet... or the werewolves... whatever... you only came back once a year, for seven days, and weren’t keeping up with the Draculashians. A tiny part of you was curious. But it hit back hard, every time. Involving yourself in the MF action was dangerous, and made you feel like an old woman who keeps complaining about them kids being loud in the street.

You were on your way to Caroline’s when somebody called Damon, and he put on his working face. Turned out, they need to undig some bodies exactly today, because the Little Shit (Damon didn’t specify whom they referred to) made his conditions. Well, work’s work. You hadn’t been to this spot before. From up here, you could even see the distand hills of New Orleans. You missed that place.

“How many bodies do you need?” you asked them. Stefan stood up to look at you curiously. As if saying, there are the bodies - we need to get them. Get them all!

“It’s not how many”, Damon helped, “it’s which ones”.

“And what are you gonna do with them?”

“I will eat them”, somebody whispered. You shivered a little under your clothes, but didn’t budge. You looked at your side. Malachai from the bar.

“Joking”, he snickered, “I don’t eat corpses. But I do have jello worms, you want some?”

You examined him thoroughly.

“You have blue ones?”

He looked down the pack.

“I think so...”

As you tried to fish out the blue ones, he looked at you.

“Do you eat bodies?” he asked.

“No, not really”, he sighed. “Thanks”.

“Mm-hm”, he was chewing, looking at the vampire brothers as they worked. Damon shot you two a glance which didn’t say anything specific.

“You’re the Little Shit?” you guessed.

“They call me that? Rude”, he moved his shoulder as if he was a bit cold. “I guess I do somewhat irritate them”.

“Somewhat?!” Damon growled. You cringed.

“And what are you, a digging up works inspector?” Kai went on. You grinned.

“Oh, you’re Y/N! You’re the girl they’ve been talking about, non-stop”, he realized.

At the grave, the brothers exchanged glances, since of course, they haven’t been talking about you in Parker’s presence.

You nodded.

“You long here?”

“A week”, you said, and rubbed your arms, “why is it so damn cold”.

“It’s the spirits disagreeing with the whole vandalizing ungraving, you know. I can’t calm them down just yet”, the guy said knowingly. You wondered internally what he was after all. He squatted a bit, putting his palm to the ground.

“Hold it”, the pack of candy was shoved into your hand and you filled your mouth with sour-sweet worms. Your jaws were about to get glued together.

“Woah, yeah, they fight back”, he took the hand away. “Listen, you”, he pointed his finger at the soil. You looked up at Damon and Stefan, asking them silently what was up with this dude. “I’m about to suck out your whole miserable existence, so you better comply, bitches”.

“Bonnie’s really good at communicating with spirits”, you said musingly.

“She’s also very good at lying, cheating and tricking people into trusting her and then stabbing them in the back”, Malachai said happily, standing up. He reached for some worms politely, forgetting it was his pack to begin with.

“You’ve met her?”

“Met her? Ha, I’ve been locked up with her. What a controversial creature”.

“Where is she? I haven’t seen her since I came”.

“Yeah, she’s... uh...” Kai cocked his head, thinking, “I might have left her in a... magical prison, you know”.

“What an asshole”, you said. You remembered the judgemental, brilliant, restless Bonnie Bennett. “Get her back”.

“It’s not that easy, miss”, Malachai sniffed. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“We studied together”.

“Okay then. See the diggers? We’re doing this all to get back there and get Bon Bon out”.

Damon puffed as if he could get tired. He was just probably listening and was severely annoyed. You knew at once when you saw Kai here how Damon could be deeply irritated by him. Their personalities did not correlate.

“And you? What are you doing?” he asked. Like he meant something else. You watched his curious face, the sweetness filling your mouth so much the gums started hurting. You needed water.

“I’m just here, man. Chilling”.

He nodded to his own thoughts.

“Hm”.

You turned back to the Salvatores simultaneously.

“You wanna go on a date?” Kai asked.

You haven’t been on a date in years. You were not the type to go dating.

“Stop this freaking wind, will you”, you shuddered yet again, instead of the answer. Kai got to the ground immediately.

You drove up to the corner and walked a little to the Grill doors. Malachai was standing there, waiting, like he was the Italian lover boy at the times when families of two children were willing to start war over dignity, and he was serenading to somebody. He didn’t say anything, just smiled at you; his gaze said things instead of him. Putting his arm above your head, he opened the door, and you entered the bar.

“The other way”, he took you by the forearm and then his fingers slid down to your wrist. Somehow, you got goose bumps on your skin at his touch; it was irrational. As the music filled the space, crappy, hipster Mystic Falls music, he led you to one of the tables closer to tha bar counter. You were trying to decipher the glint in his eyes, almost haunting, when you realized you‘re staring at each other.

“What?” you grinned even, uneasy, as your head cocked, and you caught yourself blushing on the inside. Get your act together. He’s not even that handsome. Well, maybe, okay, he is very handsome, but he’s one of those, so, don’t get your hopes up. You recalled how you two mocked the working Salvatores together, eating the chewing candy and cursing the dead. Nothing like doing nothing, bullying busy grumpy people. The conversation started itself.

“The music here is awful”.

“You’re very pretty”, he said shyly. “Maybe even too pretty”. He gestured towards you. There wasn’t any ogling with him, he was sincerely charming. He must be dangerous.

“The whole face and the... hair thing. Do you ever have problems because you’re pretty?”

The waiter, Maureen, approached you, and you had to stop for a while. She looked at Kai obediently, without paying you any attention. You found it eerie.

“No”, you began, and then thought. Well, every ‘pretty’ girl has problems sometimes. When it comes to brushing against the majority, the bar for ‘pretty’ is very low. If you walk down the street, and somebody throws a glance at you, they manage to see you as ‘pretty’.

“Well. You know, you sound like an asshole if you say you have problems because you’re good looking”.

Kai cocked his head like a bird, question in his eyes.

“Speaking of assholes, explain again how Bonnie ended up somewhere alone?”

He sighed.

“It’s a long story”.

You shrugged.

“We’ve got the whole evening”.

“You know, I’ll tell you, she killed me, you’ll ask how, I’ll have to go back a bit and explain how the magical prison works, you’ll ask what she and Damon were doing there, I’ll have to go back and explain, you’ll ask how I ended up there, and I’ll have to give you my whole life story”.

You took the straw in between your lips.

Kai’s nostrils flared a little.

“Alright. Maybe it was my fault a little bit”.

You were just drinking, not saying anything, and Kai started crumbling down. Must be the whole face and the hair thing.

“Alright! Alright. You ever heard of the Gemini coven? Of course you didn’t”.

You shook your head. You weren’t sure if you wanted to actually listen to the whole life story of this guy. That’s exactly how Mystic Falls tricks you into being one of them. It’s just full of dramatic, twisted life stories.

“It’s a witch coven, the coolest one, well, it used to be. Now almost all of them are dead, and soon, I will be the only one left”.

“Because you’ll kill them all?” you asked innocently.

“Yeah”.

“Yeah, of course. Why am I asking. Stupid”.

“I was born without magic. We have this thing, in the coven, the twins have to duel when they turn twenty one. The one with stronger magic wins and lives and absorbs the other’s life force and powers. But I was born without magic, so”, he tilted his head left and right, as if saying, well, you guess how it goes.

“Big disappointment. My mom used to lock me up in the basement for days not to embarrass guests”.

“What?!”

“Yeah. And this thing... I can absorb magic, because I’m a siphoner. It’s like... if I feel magic somewhere, I can take it. Then use it. Then I need more”.

“So, that’s why you were crawling on the ground there”.

“Yeah”, Kai nodded, “and the oldest bodies of those witches have the most magic, so, I now have enough strength to go back and bring your precious Bonnie home”.

“So, your folks gave you hard time then?”

He got distracted by your nails clicking on the glass. He was like a cat, his eyes clutched the sound, the flickering lights of the evening Grill dancing in the dark of his eyeballs.

“Do you sharpen them on purpose?”

“Of course”, you muttered, “that makes people want to touch me less”.

An uneven breath left his lips. You realized you found him endearing. What a cute, chaotic creature, dressed like a Soft Boy, but with a dark scheme on the back of his mind, eyes darting from here to there, and the tongue completely detached from brain. No wonder Mystic Falls couldn’t handle him.

“Scratch my hand”, he asked, putting his palm on the table. Amusement curled your lips.

You put your palm on his and tickled.

“Were you a twin?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I was. My sister is still alive, but you know, if the merge ended up happening, she’d be dead. Because even without my own magic, I’m stronger than her. She’s all... spells from the books, rules of conjuring, flower growing magic. I’m a natural. Which is ironic”, a sad chuckle clouded his voice for a second. “My dad used to tell me he wished I was never born at all, even if it meant they missed an opportunity to have a set of twins for the merge”.

You eyed him carefully. He talked sad, but looked entertained. He was turning and pulling his hand under your tickling, like a child.

“You’re a big boy now”, you heard yourself, “you know how them fanatics are, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Just because it’s their fucked up world doesn’t mean you were a mistake”.

Kai nodded.

“I killed half of them anyway. My sisters and brothers, and my mom”.

You stopped tickling for a second.

“Uh, you killed your siblings and your mom?”

He was taking a sip and nodded.

“Mm-hm, yeah. I hanged my little brother from the banisters on the staircase. Have you ever killed somebody?”

An uneven chain of thoughts raced through your mind. Any other place, you would’ve freaked out. Here, it’s kind of fine. Everybody’s like that. Kai was a bit extreme, of course. Him confessing killing his child siblings on your date was a bit of a thrill pill. It’s not like he smothered Caroline with a pillow. Or pushed Elena’s car from the bridge. Of pinned Damon to the wall of his own living room. Or turned a sixteen year old schoolgirl into a raging vampire right in time for Halloween.

“You look like you killed somebody”, he whispered conspirationally. You turned his hand and scratched a bit harder. He didn’t notice.

“Is it your witch observation, or a pickup line?”

Kai grinned.

“I’ve told you everything. You tell me why you’re coming back every year”.

“Who told you I do?”

“Damon”.

You rolled your eyes.

“Just to visit”.

He narrowed his eyes.

“That is a lie. You’re lying to me. You hate this place. You don’t come here for a full week out of your own will to visit people you don’t even like”.

“It’s not that I don’t like them, I just...”

“Can’t stand them”.

“Their shenanigans. How long have you been here?”

“Since spring”.

“Have you noticed”, you even leaned over the table a little bit, and his fingers wrapped around your palm with determination. His hand was warm and dexterous. “That they’re in deep shit every week? These people don’t chill. It’s one cosmic threat after another, and most of the time, it’s Damon’s fault”.

“Yes”, Kai said gravely. “Yes. And it’s always about romance. Everybody is in love with everybody”.

You started laughing with relief you didn’t know the source of.

You were tickling his palm gently as you spoke, and didn’t even notice. Suddenly, Kai nearly jumped.

“Wait, you said, awful music?”

“Of course”.

“Give me your phone”.

You didn’t reply, looking at him.

“Come on. You wanna dance or not? I’ll go talk to the DJ”.

“Talk to the DJ?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring it back to you”.

Kai didn’t. A minute after he left with your phone, the mood changed. Even the lights went darker. You finished your drink and then recognized your own playlist coming in on the speakers. When he returned, pulling you into the crowd of people gathering to dance, you looked around at the couples. Malachai, the guy who grew up being locked in the basement by his mother and hearing that he was a mistake of nature, turned out to be an okay dancer, in fact. Perhaps he was just fucking around when he sang in the karaoke. He pulled you up to him and couldn’t stop himself from touching your arms as if tapping you for magic you might have been hiding. His hands explored the lean lines of your waist as you moved, and it didn’t feel forced. Going on a date with someone you barely know, you usually expect all kinds of awkward collisions, but this here was light-hearted, sincere, like neither of you cared enough, connected with your shared displeasure with this town. Neither of you really wanted to be here; Kai said he was waiting for something connected with the merge in September, because, after all the years he spent in the prison, he thought he had another shot at merging with his sister. Apparently, they’re all stoked to duel and kill their twin or die, well, let them. The less mental cases.

Not wanting to be here made you pull close to each other as if you were a proud unit, judging people around silently. People, weirdly, didn’t seem to mind to dance to Lana Del Rey the whole evening, then switching suddenly to relatively unknown soft hip-hop. They just moved, drunk on the evening, consumed by the calm twilight of the place, and you danced, too, with Kai’s hands sliding up and down your shoulders, soothing you like a snake charmer.

Suddenly, he leaned into a kiss and you didn’t pull away. You collided like waves, gentle at first, then, hungry, and wild attraction made your head switch off. His one hand laid on the back of your neck and the other, secured the low of your back, like he was a completely normal guy on a completely normal date, having completely normal heat coming up to his throat. Maybe he was, at the moment. You found it hard to break the kiss, feeling how strangely comfortable it was, like you knew each other forever. Shared spite does miracles to people’s minds.

You drank a little bit too much, perhaps, so your head started spinning, and you were forced to open you eyes. You looked around, still in his arms, and everybody - and that means everybody - in the bar was watching you, not dancing anymore. The music was still on, but people froze completely, mesmerized, and stared at you without any expression.

“What are they looking at?” you whispered.

“They’ll remember witnessing something beautiful, but won’t know exactly what”, Kai said nonchalantly. You shot him a glance.

“What?”

“I compelled them all”, he brushed them away with his hand, “it’s a private party”.

“That’s abuse...” you thought out loud.

“You think I’m evil?” Kai asked. Somehow it didn’t sound connected to your notion.

“Nah”.

Perhaps you should’ve given it more thought. You didn’t even see how impressed he was by the easiness with which you shook your head.

“Just bitter”.

He looked around, and people moved again, like nothing happened.

You couldn’t stop kissing each other even after you left and walked down the street away from the bar.

“You wanna go see a special place?” he mumbled into your face, his breath warm and sweet. “Your heels will disagree with it though, we’ll have to take ‘em off”.

There was almost lust in his voice.

‘Special place’ turned out to be the watching tower behind the school. Mystic Falls was such a small, pathetic place that it only had one sport court, one square and one park. The watching tower was called that because, when you were all fifteen, the bravest kids used to climb up the platform to watch the Founders Day fireworks. It was a steel construction resembling the tower for the musical engineer at a gig. Nobody ever figured out what it was initially for. Maybe Damon and Stefan should’ve dropped their whole vampire wars and first ivestigated that.

Kai was right though: the narrow ladder was made of iron and you had to take off your shoes. The platform itself stood about twelve feet up and was big enough for five people. You laid shoulder to shoulder, and only then you finally realized. It was the night for Perseids.

Brilliant white comets were shooting through the skies. Kai put his hand under the back of his head. You thought of how once you were watching shooting stars with your father back when you were a child; one of the stars fell somewhere behind hills and he said that it exploded. He convinced you he’s seen the afterglow of the explosion, and with time, you have convinced yourself you’ve seen it, too. Bright, short, white flash of misty light, like a flickering halo above the mountain. This memory was completely fake. Just like his belief that the red stars are the youngest. Father knew jack shit about space.

“You ever compare yourself with the size of universe?” you asked. You were afraid to sound too romantic, or stupid, but you were drunk enough.

“Yeah. I like stars”.

“Do you feel small or big?”

“Small”, Kai replied obediently.

“Does it make you feel lonely, or is it a liberating feeling?”

“Lonely”.

“Does it make you wanna die or live forever?”

“I’m planning to live forever”, he said with convitction. You turned your head and discovered he’s been looking at you.

“Aren’t you mortified of the future?”

“I’m just very tired of dying”.

Your brows gathered together. You reached for his cheek and touched it with your fingers to make sure he was flesh and blood.

“You can’t die in prison world”, he explained.

“Oh. Are you alive right now?”

Now, Malachai was a little surprised.

“I think so”, he chuckled. “Hey, you. I’ve been spilling the tea all night and then you distracted me with kissing, and now I’m realizing you said nothing yourself”.

You wondered what Kai has done to deserve the title of Little Shit. You imagined he somehow incorporated you into his plan since he was so nice to you. He looked like he was geniunely interested.

“Nothing to tell. I don’t want to”.

“That’s not fair”.

You shut him up with a kiss.

As he let go of her hand, seeing the yellow light from the window, he has already decided everything. The door let the wave of bright flood him, and, before it closed behind her back, he turned invisible and hopped inside.

The house stood empty, with the light on in the kitchen. He didn’t know if she seemed like somebody who’s afraid of darkness, but it was strange. Kai let her go upstairs alone and cruised a little around the kitchen and the living room; her house, like her, felt mysterious and so familiar. When Kai finally made it upstairs to her room, she was taking a shower. Malachai touched every little thing that laid around: he put his palm to the wall, fidgeted with the jewelry she left on the bedside table; sat on her bed, opened and closed the curtains and left the outline of his hand on the window. He touched the handles of the wardrobe and brushed lightly over the dress she’s just been wearing, that she threw onto a chair.

When the girl came back, he expected her to cry again. Because of their date, she skipped her running session and didn’t go to the football field. As she stood at the mirror, Kai came up so close to her, he even wondered how she didn’t feel the tip of his nose barely touching her wet hair. She threw the towel on the floor, and Kai looked in the mirror. He couldn’t see himself, but he knew he was there. He wondered what they would’ve looked like together.

Then she froze and turned her head as if hearing something. Kai managed to step away as she rushed to the chair for clothes. She put on sweatpants and a shirt, and went downstairs. Kai was sure he didn’t hear anything.

Curious to no end, he followed, down to the living room, and then the kitched, the light turned on virtually everywhere in the house like she was terrified of shadows.

“No, I just came back”, she said, to nobody. Kai walked in front of her and stood in the middle of the kitchen. She looked over his shoulder. Then sat at the table.

“Fine, when did you come back?”

Pause.

“I thought you said you didn’t leave the house nowadays”.

She was talking to the empty room, a bit sad, not like when she was with him.

Wow, she is nuts, Malachai thought. Then he thought hard and repeated, to himself,

she is absolutely insane!

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagine #TVD #tvd imagine

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doobler · 4 years ago

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Strenuous

This was the worst part. Of everything in his entire job description, from constant life-or-death missions to the injuries spurned from them along with a truly horrible case of PTSD, this was the worst, bar none. Nothing could top it. Ever.

"Spartan 113, report to the lab for prosthetic detailing."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jonah cursed, punching the door to his personal quarters so hard that it dented.

"I am confused," Vykan piped up from the cot. "I thought you would be elated to receive a new prosthetic?"

"Sure, after it's all said and done," He shook out his hand. His knuckles burned. "The actual refitting process is hell. Nothing compares to it."

Jonah emphatically gestured to the gap where his left arm would be. As he spoke, he grew angrier.

"The damned thing always takes a few days to get used to, hooking up new tech is long and arduous, the technicians have no souls, they only care about the "experiment", a new piece doesn't stop the HORRIBLE phantom pains, and the wiring being connected to my nerves is like having your goddamned BONES set on fire."

Jonah panted. When he regained his breath, he stood up ramrod straight then sighed.

"Whatever. I'll be back in a bit."

"What if I accompanied you?"

Vykan looked sympathetic but not in that awful pitying way that Jonah despised. He stood, laying a hand on the Spartan's bad shoulder.

"You've told me our evenings on HALO together temporarily chased away your nightmares," Vykan pressed, sounding more hopeful. "Perhaps my presence now will help?"

Jonah faked rubbing at his sinuses to hide the subtle flush in his cheeks. Damn. He never should've confessed that. Now that the hell of surviving HALO was over, he had to face the odd magnetic pull Vykan always seemed to radiate. Being around the Elite made him dizzy and confused. At the same time, Vykan was being very kind in offering to help. Saying no would be a dick move.

"Okay, okay, maybe that'll work." Jonah peeled off his shirt, rooting around for a tank top. He continued to speak as he dressed. "But if I tell you it's time to leave, you better listen the first time."

"On my honor."

"Good. Let's go."

Jonah was in a rush heading out the door. He missed the longing expression on Vykan's face.

---

"Take a seat, 113."

Jonah harrumphed at the engineer. As per usual, there were four of them, all with little handheld tablets to jot down data on. The lab was fuller than usual, no doubt the scientists and technicians wanted a closer look at both the new upgraded piece and Vykan himself. They watched with beady eyes as Jonah sat on the examination table and Vykan hovered nearby.

"How did you lose this one?" Jonah never bothered to learn any of the researchers names because he hated them but she looked familiar.

"I was ambushed. On HALO," Jonah snarled. "Sliced clean off by an. An energy sword."

"Did you experience a spike in feelings such as anxiety, panic, or shock when faced with the same weapon that took off your arm in the first place?"

"We're gonna skip the psych eval today," Jonah interrupted. He felt ready to puke. "And go right on ahead to actually fitting the damn thing. Got it? Or I'm leaving."

She sniffled once, scribbled something on her tablet, then moved on. A different scientist came forth with the new prosthetic. It was beautiful in a way. His previous one had been rather bare bones, simplistic armatures and wiring built to be lightweight with enhanced mobility. This one more resembled flesh, its plates shaped like planes of muscle, the bicep, tricep, and forearm sections defined and elegant. The fingers looked a normal size and thickness with articulated joints and an accurately segmented palm.

"Wow," Jonah breathed. "You guys really stepped up your game this time."

"It's a prototype," A third engineer piped up. "A mesh of military grade and civilian appropriate hardware and software. The idea is to give you every advantage on the field while attempting to simulate a realistic flesh arm in equal balance."

"Your feedback will be especially helpful this time and there will be a series of tests for the next week."

"Hey, if it works as good as it looks, I'll do whatever the fuck you ask," Jonah shifted his position, one leg pulled up on the table to give full access to the port in his shoulder. "Fire away."

At first, the hope was only one technician would be needed to affix the arm. As soon as the ball joint latch struck against his shoulder, however, Jonah couldn't help but scream and convulse. The port was a direct line to the nerves in his shoulder. The act of slotting the arm into place meant connecting wires both mechanical and flesh and the process was incredibly painful. He chewed down on his lower lip until it split and bled, finally squirming back and away. As he regained his breath, another technician joined in to help.

The second attempt was worse. Thankfully, a chair and not a human was the closest thing to Jonah. He kicked it hard enough that the window it smashed against fractured but didn't shatter. The latch fumbled and his cry of agony was ear-splitting.

When a third technician moved in to assist, Vykan cut between them.

"Perhaps I can help."

He shimmied up onto the examination table and looked over the Spartan. Jonah had tears prickling in his eyes. Gods. He couldn't even imagine the amount of pain he was in. Vykan held out his hand, his subsequent exhale sounding rather determined.

"You can squeeze as hard as you would care to," Vykan promised gently. "Do not fear hurting me."

Vykan knew his companion was desperate because Jonah took the offering with little hesitation. His skin was so soft and smooth, so unlike an Elite's. The warm caramel tone was rather pretty as well. Vykan swallowed. No, no, not now. Focus.

"Attempt mark three." Was the only spoken warning.

The latch caught the port and Jonah managed not to shriek. He could feel the tendons and muscles and bones in Vykan's hand flex and grind under his grip. When he glanced at the Elite's face, it was calm and cool. Jonah squeezed harder as the technicians readjusted their angle. With a sharp push, the latch and port aligned and the prosthetic slotted into place. Jonah groaned from deep within his chest as sensation tingled quite painfully through his shoulder. He flexed his fingers, listening to the soft little clicks of lightweight metal plates.

"How does it feel?" One technician inquired.

"It's a good weight," Jonah rolled his shoulder, testing the prosthetics full range of mobility. "Not too heavy, not too light, well balanced. I think the strain'll be minimal."

"Test the reaction time, is there any delay?"

"Not that I can tell yet," Jonah flexed his palm over and over. "It's pretty instantaneous. I'm more worried about the grip strength and how long it can hold any input."

"The grip strength should be equal or slightly greater to that of your other arm. As for holding input, it should keep for as long as you will it."

"You got anything to punch? Let's see how much kick this bitch packs."

Vykan watched, his thoughts cloudy and fragmented. It was always a delight to watch Jonah simply exist. He was so much bigger than the average human but always seemed distinctly aware of the space he occupied. When he chatted with Marines, he almost blended in until you took into stock how much more massive he was in comparison. His speech was vulgar, always filled with curses and harsh tones, but once he got on a subject he cared for, his voice softened and his intellect shone through. He carried himself proudly and he was brave and strong and smart and powerful and kind and warm, his eyes were such a fascinating shade of midnight blue, his lips were plump and full, his smile was bright and dazzling and--

"--Vy? You good, pal?"

Vykan jolted back to reality. Oh. Right. Jonah furrowed his brow but smiled.

"We're all done here," He clasped the Elite's shoulder. "C'mon, I'm hungry, let's go get something to eat."

He let Jonah steer him out of lab, his head swivelling around to watch the room as they left. The way the researchers looked back at him, the hunger in their eyes, sent chills down Vykan's spines. Who knew humans could be so haunting?

"You ok?" Jonah stopped once they were a good few halls away. "You full on spaced out there."

"Just acclimating to the situation," Vykan lied smoothly. "That was a rather... Shocking experience."

"Pfft. You're telling me. It gets harder every time. But this puppy right here," Jonah playfully tried to flex his prosthetic arm. "Is top of the class. I can already tell I'm gonna love this piece of shit."

Vykan followed right behind him, his gaze growing glassy as he listened to Jonah ramble on. He rubbed a thumb over his palm, the one Jonah had squeezed, and tried not to think of how nicely their hands had fit together.

#too impatient. must post now #halo oc #my oc #oc #vykan 'dravam #jonah-113 #tiny fic #THEY BOTH CAUGHT FEEEELS #also Vykan is pan and Jonah is gay

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hoekaashi · 4 years ago

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Rubber Ducks and Demons

Summary: Kuroo felt like pranking his roommate, Bokuto, starting a prank war. Was he taking it too far by trying to make Bokuto go insane? Word Count: 1.5k Read on Ao3

This started off as a simple joke. Kuroo replaced the shaving cream with whipped cream just to see if Bokuto would notice. He got his answer when Bokuto came running out of the shower with the can in one hand and his other holding up the towel wrapped around his hips. It wasn’t the best time for his roommate to have discovered the prank seeing as he had a small study group over, getting ready for midterms. Kuroo’s mouth was slightly agape as he processed what was happening. Bokuto, on the other hand, didn’t care because all he wanted to do was shave, but now he was sticky. It was awkward for the group after that and no matter how many times he apologized to his group, he knew they would never come to his place to study again.

Now, a month later, it had turned into a full on prank war. The pranks didn’t stop once they left the apartment either. There was not a safe place for either of them. Bokuto put a red sock in Kuroo’s whites while doing the laundry and all of his white shirts - including his lab coat - had turned various shades of pink. So Kuroo bought a Sports Illustrated magazine and placed it in Bokuto’s bag instead of his notebook. The sight of Bokuto turning various shades of red had Kuroo clutching his stomach from laughter. It was hard for him to explain to his female project partner why he had the magazine in the first place and not his notes. She was unimpressed and from there, he decided to up his game.

When Kuroo was showering, Bokuto changed his ringtone and turned the volume up all the way. Kuroo was in a lecture, falling asleep listening to his professor talk about glycolysis and the Krebb’s cycle which was easy to do in a class of three hundred students. He woke up a bit when someone’s phone started ringing, the sounds of a female orgasming filling the lecture hall. Kuroo immediately sat up when he realized it was his phone. He had a quick debate whether he should let it ring since it was in his bag, or if he should turn it off. Choosing to do the former, since there weren’t many students around him and the lecture hall was now filled with laughter, he waited until it stopped ringing. Making sure no one was looking at him, he took out his phone and put it on silent, not missing the {1 missed call from Bokuto}.

The plan was simple. Drive Bokuto insane. But slowly. Kuroo ordered some rubber ducks from Amazon. He took out all of their stuff from both of their toiletry baskets in the bathroom and filled it with the ducks. He noticed Bokuto staring at it one day as he walked past the open bathroom door, but neither of them said anything. When he got bored, Kuroo decided to rearrange them. One day, they were stacked in a pyramid on the floor next to the door. Another day, he set up a chase scene around the tub. He also had them get married and start a cult.

“Bro, can you stop with the ducks? I had a girl over last night and she left when she saw them,” Bokuto said with a pout.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “The rubber ducks? I thought those were yours…”

“Why would I buy a shitload of rubber ducks?” he asked, confused.

“I thought you wanted them as company when you took baths.” Kuroo shrugged.

Bokuto stared at his roommate in confusion. That was when Bokuto started bugging out. He thought the apartment was haunted since neither of them bought the ducks.

Kuroo decided to do even more by having the ducks reenact famous movie scenes. His favorite was when he filled up the water and had the ducks act out the scene of Rose on the wooden door and Jack in the water from the Titanic with dead ducks upside down in the water.

That one almost got Bokuto. He came running out of the bathroom saying that the ghost was increasing their water bill and killing the ducks. It took everything in Kuroo not to burst out laughing.

He wanted Bokuto to cry. Remembering a scary story he heard for his youth, Kuroo positioned the ducks as if they were coming out of the shower drain. Bokuto was close to the point of showering at the gym locker room. Kuroo needed something to push him over the edge. Placing another order for ducks (unfortunately for Bokuto, you could buy them wholesale), Kuroo patiently waited for them. Once he got them, he began with his new plan. Over the next few days, he had the ducks traveling out of the tub, into the rest of the bathroom. Bokuto became more jumpy and kept talking about figuring out what the ghost wanted. It got to the point where he was talking to his classmates and friends about it. He even brought it up during his professor’s office hours, which didn’t end well for either of them.

As he was scrolling on a clothing website, Kuroo saw an ad for a larger rubber duck with a king’s crown, scepter, and cape. He immediately clicked on it and placed an order. Oh how he loved Prime’s two-day delivery.

When Bokuto was out of their apartment for class, Kuroo set up the king duck on top of a thick body sponge with a few regular sized rubber ducks around the king as its guard. Then he proceeded to line up all the other ducks in the tub in small groups.

“Kuroo bro I think the ghost wants to take over this apartment as a king!” Bokuto shouted, running out of the bathroom. He had come back from his class and extra study session exhausted. It was well-known that he didn’t have the biggest attention span and learning and studying for four hours straight was too much for his little brain.

“What are we gonna do?” Kuroo asked. He had perfected his acting since this had been going on for about two and a half months now.

“We need to call like a ghost buster or priest or something.”

Kuroo was not expecting that response. “Bro, isn’t that a bit too much for one ghost?”

“No. It’s in the bathroom for now, but I’ve been reading about this and the way it’s moving things around…” He sat down on the couch next to Kuroo. “It could be a demon,” he whispered.

Another response he wasn’t expecting. “A demon?”

“Yeah. If it is, it could be trying to attach it’s soul to the ducks and make one us its host. I don’t wanna be demon food bro.”

Kuroo figured out the next step in his plan. He found even larger rubber ducks, one that took up all the space in the sink and ordered several of those. He placed one in the sink, one in the toilet, one in the bath, one in the kitchen sink and one in the oven. Kuroo had hidden all the small rubber ducks under his bed in his room.

Bokuto’s reaction was even better than he imagined. His roommate was almost in tears because he thought the demon was growing more powerful and merged the small ducks in bigger ones. Kuroo did his best to convince Bokuto to not contact the Pope. He had to admit, he was enjoying this far more than he thought.

Kuroo came back from his first final exam knowing he didn’t do as well as he could’ve. The damn prank ended up wasting a lot of his time that he could’ve used to study. But what was done was done. He headed into the bathroom after dropping his stuff in his room and did a double take. Bokuto heard Kuroo’s “SHIT” from his room and came over to inspect what had happened. Both of them stared at the giant inflatable rubber duck in the middle of their bathroom. Kuroo didn’t buy this…

“The demon is getting stronger, bro! I think we’re gonna die!” Bokuto started freaking out.

“What the fuck is going on?” Kuroo’s mind was reeling. He had no idea where the inflatable duck came from. The ducks he had placed around the bathroom and kitchen were missing as well. He hadn’t touched them. Was there really a demon?

“Bro.” He looked at Bokuto who was wearing a huge grin on his face.

Kuroo’s look of shock changed to confusion. “What?”

“You just got punked,” Bokuto said.

“What?”

“I got you.” Bokuto burst into laughter.

“Huh?”

Once Bokuto finished laughing, he explained. “I told Akaashi about everything and he eventually told me you were behind it. He saw you picking up packages the same day or the day before a new change took place. So he told me to prank you back. I came up with the demon part, cool huh?”

Kuroo stood there dumbstruck as he processed the information. “Did you just… use my own prank to prank me?”

Bokuto broke out in laughter once again.

“Dude… you really got me.”

Bokuto held out his hand. “Truce?”

“Truce,” Kuroo said as he shook his roommate's hand. “My grades suffered because of this.”

“Wow, Mr. A plus now has regular A’s,” Bokuto mocked.

“If I wanna go to med school, I need the best grades.” Kuroo crossed his arms across his chest. “And I got B’s, not A’s.”

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #bokuto kotaro #kuroo #bokuto #hq #haikyuu fic #hq fic #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

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May: TinyDoubt

Previous: April’s The Wild Lillies

Pairing: None

Genre: Creative Angst

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Swearing!

Summary: Creative block is alive and well as you stare at the figurines in front of you, your only comfort? The voice in your head challenging you to soldier on.

Notes: I tried to channel my deep deep writers block for this. Do I hate it? Maybe. Do I feel all those things about my writing? Oh absolute. Is that inner voice how I talk to myself? You bet it is. Is the title so good? Yes, yes it is.

Paintbrush

Sculpting clay

Carving tools

Dry hands

Paint under fingernails

Hair swept back

Slick drying on cheeks

Shoulder’s tense

Should’ve sprung for the expensive chair, the one that holds my legs back and supports my core.

It isn’t too late, I could still spring for it after this batch sells… if I sell it.

I sigh, glancing at the clock, 5 minutes to midnight. How long have I been sitting here? When was the last time I ate or drank anything? Too long. I’ll feel it tomorrow, the ache in my joints, the exhaustion in my body, limbs sore, eyes worn out, all craving nourishment and rest.

Gently, I place the figurine on the clean expanse of my drying rack. Thin and leucite, it supports the variety of creations I’ve been making, each in a different state of disarray. None have ended up being perfect, none are worthy of completing, except maybe, just maybe, this one.

Standing perfectly still at 3inches, somehow, in the bright light of my desk lamp, magnifying lens on its second highest setting, I had perfectly sculpted the manicured swoop of hair. Each strand carved delicately, the part off center, the lingering hair nearly over the left eye, all made from modeling clay. It had taken days to perfect the lift, the arching bow from one side. In its naked form, it looks immaculate. But I know I can only succeed if the coloring is perfect, if the glasses I made, labored over, filling with resin in raspberry pink, fit properly over the new ears I carved days ago.

Ears were always the easy part, a simple structure on the head, never taking more than a pin-head size of clay. Noses too, tiny and dainty drops, always done in the middle of creation.

Staring at this latest iteration, I can’t help but wonder if this is worth it. Meticulously drawing every line, breaking my back mixing yellows to get the golden shade and all the highlights, not to mention the truly painstaking part of it all, hands. Is it worth it, the weeks spent making this tiny, tiny creation, only to deem it unworthy, and left incomplete?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

It’s always worth it, despite what the odds tell me. There’s always that voice in my head, telling me that not only is my skill appreciated, but worth something. The last set sold for five times the asking price. This set could double, triple that… Maybe if it did well enough, I could transition to this, full time. Though the thought of working on perfecting miniatures for 12 hours a day sounds quite possibly like hell.

This isn’t hell, or horrible, you’re too hard on yourself.

The voice in my head tells me. Laughing, I counter that statement. “I am not, they’re all shit,”

They are not.

“I should’ve stuck with wood carving,” I grumble.

You cut yourself pretty badly the last time-

“I know I did!”

I can’t tell if I’ve fully lost it, or if this conversation is going to lead to a creative breakthrough. Though based on my running internal monologue, which yes is voiced by Nicole Byer, I am due for a serious heart-to-mind pep talk. It’s not that I haven’t scolded myself recently, or lamented about how completely incompetent I am, how horrific my work is, or how I am wasting my youth sitting at a cramped desk with coffee I’ve reheated four times. I haven’t had the full ‘this is meaningless, stop wasting your time perfecting the shades of blonde on this plastic and clay figurine and go figure out the next steps in your career’ in at least three weeks. I suppose, staring at these in complete monstrosities, that a conversation with myself regarding what I’m doing is far more enjoyable than listening to my father droll on about how I am in command of my destiny.

Because I’m not in control. If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here making TinyTan figurines, crying when the paint dries a different color than my swatches or weeping when a miniature dot of adhesive gets stuck on the outside of the clay and chars the entire piece in the oven.

So I’m not in charge of my fate.

You make your own luck.

“Alright, I didnn’t ask you.”

Who did you ask then? Jimin? Yoongi? Oh wait, they don’t have mouths and they’re made of plastic!

“See, they don’t have mouths because they fucking suck and I should give up.”

They’re probably better than you think, you’re just too close to it.

“I think that’s actually incorrect and there is nothing wrong with how close I am to these figures,”

You are though

“What do you suppose I do? Capture their souls? Summon them with a knock off The Power of Seven Will Set Me Free, while I hold their tiny little plastic hands?” I throw the ball of clay I’ve been rolling onto the table, the small glob sticking to the side of a larger block I had been carving from.

Do you always have to be so difficult?

“You’re inside my brain! You know how creatively frustrated I am! And you know how absolutely fucking bitchy I get when I’m upset!”

Why are you frustrated?

I groan, standing up from my chair and walking to the kitchen sink. The hot water scalds my dry hands, melting the clay and paint off, the extra judicial scrubbing peeling back layers of grime I’d let build in the last 10 hours.

Why are you so frustrated? Is it because you aren’t good enough? Are you scared it’s going to be your senior year showcase again, where that girls sister didn’t understand you collage and made snarky comments?

I dry my hands, unwilling to answer the questions my mind was asking.

If you don’t talk about it you’ll blow up like a volcano…

“Because! Fuck, because I can’t get any of this right. I just got the hair done, and that’s taken me two weeks. All I’m doing is chipping away, carving away, fucking up and starting again. When I’m not working on it, all I’m doing is thinking about it. They haunt me in my sleep, their little round bellies body rolling to Mic Drop, trying to get me to eat the mini quiches they’ve carved their initials in. My life is consumed by these tiny fucking figures and it’s making me absolutely hate them.”

Hate them?

“Whoever decided TinyTan needed to be a thing,”

Shouldn’t you be mad at whoever told you to create your own versions of them?

“Oh, so you want me to be mad at myself? Aren’t I already?”

Okay, point made.

“I just stare at them, their little body parts, heads on a platter like the Addams Family.. Everything I make is ugly, everything I make isn’t good enough. Every curve, every cut… garbage.”

Do you want to quit?

“Give up on my project?”

Yeah, say fuck it, toss them out, never come back to them.

“I, should’ve gotten into doll houses,”

Why?

“They’re easier, the rules aren’t as rigid, it’s an interpretation and you can do that 1000 different ways,”

So quit, move to doll houses, sell all your tools. But, answer this, what happens when you get upset or frustrated making doll houses?

I sigh. “I don’t quit craft projects.”

… didn’t you just say you wanted to?

“I don’t quit crafts. Relationships and friendships, that’s another story. But art?”

Then why are you bitching?

“I just,” I sigh, slumping into my couch. “If I finish them, and they don’t turn out, what kind of artist will I be? What does that say about my craft? My ‘talent’?”

What kind of artist do you want to be?

“This Socratic method is really fucking annoying.”

I’m your mind, stop doing it if it bugs you so much

“I just, what does it say about me if they aren’t any good?”

I’m not sure it says anything about you as a person.

“Me as an artist?”

I don’t know if we can answer that.

“Maybe you’re right,”

About?

“Maybe I just, I’m too hard on myself. A set of figurines isn’t going to break my hobby… even if it’s broken my spirit,”

If it’s broken your spirit, why keep doing it?

“I love the finished product, but I love the process more,”

Then keep going.

The thing about the voice inside my head is that no matter how hard I try to lie to it, it always knows. It always comes back with wisdom and truth, shining a light on exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.

“Tonight?”

No bitch, you need sleep. TinyTan will be there tomorrow.

“Is this when we sing Zero O’Clock while we brush our teeth?”

Only if you want to.

I rise from my couch, slipping my apron off, putting it on my crafting chair and clear my throat.

“Oo- and you’re gonna be happy,” I sing as I move through my apartment, miniatures drying, waiting for another day of scraping, molding and painting, my broken spirit stitching itself back together as the clock resets.

Next: June Pride

#thebtswritersclub #monthlychallenge #BTS fanfic #Tinytan #Tinytanfic #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv

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thepartyresponsible · 5 years ago

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here’s a short fic about jason todd encountering an undercaffeinated clint barton on a rooftop in new york. it’s exactly as romantic as it sounds.

Jason’s not even supposed to be in New York. He hates this town. It’s overcrowded with heroes, which means it’s overcrowded with bullshit and bad blood, and he can’t go two blocks without running face-first into someone else’s fuck-ups.

“I swear to God, Grayson,” he says, right into the comm, because he’s sick of this shit, and this isn’t his town, and, if he makes a mess here, it’ll get one-upped by morning. “I think the Punisher just took a potshot at me.”

“Doubt it,” Grayson says, sounding insultingly unconcerned. “Do you still have a face?”

“So far,” Jason says, “but I’m about five more minutes away from blowing this mask up myself.”

“Grumpy,” Grayson observes. He doesn’t seem to appreciate the favor Jason’s doing, meeting him all the way up here. Possibly because he’s been caught in some kind of ballerina boxing match with Daredevil for something like a quarter of an hour.

Jason would be less pissed about that if he didn’t have the sneaking suspicion Dick was planning to ask the Devil on a date afterwards.

“Next time we gotta swap bullshit alien tech,” Jason says, “we’re doing it in Jersey, as God intended. If I get murdered by an Avengers groupie, I’m gonna haunt your entire family for the next millennium.”

Dick hums back thoughtfully. “Yeah, I don’t think they call themselves groupies. I think they mostly call themselves SHIELD agents.”

“All I’m saying,” Jason says, as he shifts his weight on the new rooftop, scans the skyline for whoever shot at him a minute ago, “is nobody wears that much spandex unless they’re looking to get laid. They can call themselves a government agency if they want to, but if you put a zipper on the front of your fucking tactical jumpsuit--”

“Hey.”

The voice is soft, kinda scratchy, and it is most definitely not Grayson. When Jason turns, guns out, he finds himself confronted by a sleepy-eyed blonde in a t-shirt and purple boxers, with a cup of coffee in his hand and a case of bedhead that would shame Sleepy Beauty.

“Hey, man,” the guy continues, “are they shooting at you? Can you maybe get them to stop? It‘s pretty late, you know? It’s a school night. You really gotta do this now?”

Jason stares. “Oh, sorry, princess,” he says, at a loss. “I’ll just ask real nice for a raincheck and see how they take it, okay?”

“Cool,” the blonde says, like he’s agreeing to the terms. He rubs at his face and yawns. There’s a coffee stain down the front of his white t-shirt and a target drawn in shades of purple centered right over his heart.

Jason, because he’s feeling obliging, turns in the direction of shooter. “Hey, asshole,” he yells, “get fucked.”

He ducks down behind the brick wall, waits for the answering gunshot, and then looks up at the man, who hasn’t even blinked toward cover.

“Yeah,” Jason says, when the echoes from the gunfire have faded, “they said no.”

“Well, you didn’t ask right,” the blonde tells him. “Gotta use your manners.”

He shuffles over, barefoot on a New York City rooftop like someone who thinks lockjaw’s going to do him any favor on the dating scene, and stares blearily out into the city.

“Hey, yeah, excuse me,” he calls out, “could we do this during business hours, please? I got tenants with kids in the building.”

Jason leans over, hooks a hand around the guy’s ankle, and tugs him to the ground. The blonde folds neatly, scrambling for his coffee and somehow managing not to spill a single drop. He throws Jason an affronted look and then rolls his eyes as another gunshot rings out, bullet embedding itself in the roof access door.

“Aw, bullets,” he says, sounding persecuted. “I hate patching bullet holes.”

“You almost got a bullet hole in your face,” Jason tells him.

He hates this city. At least in Gotham people have the good sense to run from snipers.

“Got enough holes in my face,” the man says. He pats Jason consolingly on the knee. “I’ll handle this. Hold my coffee.”

He passes the cup to Jason, who takes it on instinct. “What the fuck,” Jason says. “Wil you stay down? Christ’s sake, I’ll just---”

Jason shuts himself up as the blonde picks a rock off the rooftop, tests its weight for a second, and then stands up, hurling the rock into the darkness.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason says, incredulous.

Half a second later, there’s a scream from the roof across from them, and then a long, wailing cry that cuts off with the heavy thud of a body hitting pavement.

“Shoulda stuck to school hours,” the blonde says, alarmingly prosaic.

Jason scrambles to his feet. He stares down at the dead sniper on the sidewalk, looks up at the building across from them, and then down at the line of rocks around the perimeter of the roof. Now that he’s looking, it seems a weird place for a bunch of surprisingly large rocks to be.

“Did you fucking—did you put those there for home defense?”

The blonde shrugs. He takes his coffee out of Jason’s hands and swigs it back with the most enthusiasm Jason’s seen out of him so far. “Well, sometimes I forget my bow.”

Jason pauses. Blinks. Looks the blonde up and down, lingering over the way his shoulders fill out that t-shirt and the strong, defined muscles of his forearms.

“Holy shit,” Jason says, “are you Hawkeye?”

The blonde salutes him with his coffee cup. Coffee splashes over the brim of the mug and splatters all across his shirt. He sighs, heavily.

“Hawkeye,” Jason repeats, dubiously. “World’s Greatest Marksman? SHIELD agent? Avenger?”

“Yep,” Hawkeye says, brushing at the coffee stain like it’s dirt he can knock off. “You’re one of those Gotham guys?”

Jason stares at him. “Oh, nah,” he says, “I’m Power Girl.”

Hawkeye’s eyes go – incredibly and apparently unironically – right to Jason’s chest. He squints, seems to weigh it out in his head. “You don’t…” he says, slowly. “You don’t look like Power Girl.”

“Really,” Jason says. “Really? What gave me away?”

Hawkeye finishes off his coffee and then smiles at him, bright and smug and oddly sweet for a man who just dropped another guy off a ten-story building. “Power Girl’s blonde.”

“I could be blonde,” Jason says. “Under the helmet. How the hell would you know?”

“Red Helmet,” Hawkeye says, snapping his fingers. “That’s who you are.”

“Red Hood,” Jason corrects. He’d be offended, but, frankly, this guy didn’t even remember shoes. Or pants.

“Red Helmet would make more sense,” Hawkeye mumbles, mouth half-hidden behind his coffee mug.

Jason sighs. “Hey, Nightwing,” he says, activating the comm again. “Are you done playing grabass with Daredevil? Can we get this shit moving already? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh, is that the blue guy?” Hawkeye asks, shuffling closer to him. He squints curiously into the street. “Don’t interrupt them. Devil’s been talking about him for weeks.”

“It is not—will you—I’m busy here,” Jason says, taking a pointed step away. “Nightwing,” he repeats, “I swear to God.”

“Busy,” Grayson says. He sounds a little breathless.

For a single, beautiful second, Jason’s actually worried about him, and then he hears what is almost definitely the Man Without Fear murmuring something that Jason never in his life needed to hear another person say to Dick Grayson.

“Oh my God,” Jason says. “Fuck’s sake, Nightwing, turn your Goddamn comm off.”

“You called me,” Nightwing says, and Jason yanks the comm out of his ear before he gets scandalized any further.

“Tried to warn you,” Hawkeye says, sounding smug again. He goes to take another drink of coffee, realizes all over again that he’s out, and then stares mournfully into his empty cup. “Oh,” he says, sounding personally betrayed.

“You try to help people,” Jason says. “You try to do the Golden Boy a favor. You come to this bullshit city, with all these bullshit people, and he leaves you on a roof so he can fuck around with a man who does Catholic church cosplay.”

Hawkeye gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Aw, c’mon,” he says. “The Devil’s okay. Bluebird could do much worse.”

“He’s not—Jesus Christ, Gotham is a day trip away, asshole, and Bludhaven’s even closer. The names aren’t hard. I’m Red Hood, and he’s Nightwing.”

Hawkeye shrugs with exactly the kind of agreeable unconcern that suggests he’s really not going to bother remembering. “I’m better with faces.”

“I find the helmet to be pretty fucking memorable,” Jason says.

Hawkeye gives him a considering look, eyes dragging from his helmet to his boots and then back up. “Too bad,” he says. “I was gonna invite you down for coffee, but you probably can’t drink it with the helmet on.”

Jason hesitates. God knows how long he’s going to be waiting around on this rooftop for Dick Grayson to remember he’s supposed to meet Jason and finish their latest round of Kryptonian tech swap. Coffee would be a welcome distraction.

Those forearms would be a welcome distraction.

Jason glances down at the sidewalk. There’s a bit of a ruckus now, probably because some poor bastard out for a late-night walk damn near tripped over the corpse. It’d probably be wise to get out of sight before the cops show up to do whatever song and dance they deem necessary in this neighborhood.

Anyway, he always wears a domino under the helmet.

He reaches up, goes through the whole complicated maneuver of removing the helmet, and, when he drops it into his hands, Hawkeye honest-to-God whistles at him and then flushes immediately pink.

“Oh shit,” he says, clutching his coffee cup to his chest. “I thought that was just gonna be in my head. Sorry. It’s real late, you know?��

Jason stares at him. Takes in the whole sleepy sight of him, from the blush on his cheeks to the soft spikey mess of his hair to the coffee-stained t-shirt and the bare skin of his feet. “And you’re Hawkeye,” he says, just to be absolutely certain. “SHIELD agent, super spy, best sniper in the world.”

“Yeah, man,” Hawkeye confirms. He reaches up to scrub at the back of his head, and it does absolutely nothing for his hair but the flex of his arms does something for Jason. “I just—normally people don’t speak to me until after I’ve had more than one cup of coffee.”

Jason shakes his head, not quite able to make the call between being charmed and being appalled. Maybe this city has its redeeming qualities after all.

“Okay,” he says. “C’mon, Hawkeye. Let’s get you more coffee.”

#writing #fic

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