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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip.

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier.

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted.

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sequel #birch #biker boys of birch #biker au #biker!au #marvel #mcu #captain america #falcon #tfatws #avengers

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viking-raider · 4 years ago

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Hoist the Colours - Part II

Summary: You try and survive being Henry's captive, while your father plans on how to get you back.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 7,629

Warning: PG-13 - Pirate!Henry, Some Dark Themes, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom, Captivity, Possible Trigger Warning, Unwanted Physical Contact, Angst, Fluff, Bondage

Inspiration: Pirates of the Caribbean and Henry Cavill!

Author's Note: Gotta love Pirates!

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

Henry woke with the sun glittering off the ocean and into his face and groaned, rubbing at his bearded cheeks and sat up, rolling his stiff neck and shoulders. His body was sore after the battle the day before, he crossed the swaying room and poured himself a stiff drink and quickly downed it with a groan.

Splashing some water in his face from a small basin, Henry peeked through the narrow gap between bed curtains and saw you sound asleep, before a light knock sounded on the still locked door.

“What is it?” He asked, opening the door to his first mate, Benjamin Nullings.

“Morning to you too, Captain.” Nullings greeted him back, with a smile.

Henry shook his head at the man, a smile tugging at his lips. He and Nullings had known each other for a good many years, back when they were both crewmen on another Pirate's ship, before Henry acquired the Crimson Jersey, a Spanish Galleon, and he made Nullings his First Mate, being one of the only men that he trusted.

“Good morning, Benji.” He replied to him.

“Well, good is going to depend on how you take the news I have for you.” Nullings answered, his brow creasing.

“What news?” Henry frowned, not liking the tone or the look Nullings was giving him.

“It's Valentine.” Nullings said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his bald head. “He was injured in the skirmish yesterday, took a musket ball to the arm. The surgeon had to take it off during the night, but he ended up bleeding out and died early this morning.”

Henry's head dropped back with a growl. “Fuck.”

“Exactly.” Nullings nodded, pressing his lips together. “You know old man Norris entrusted us with his son to try and straighten the boy out, not get his arm blown off or him killed.”

“He's going to kick up quite the fuss back at the Island for this.” Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Has Quartermaster Astley tallied up the new loot?”

“He has, and we should make a very tidy profit of ten thousand pieces of eight.” Nullings informed him.

“Divided by a thirty man crew.” Henry squeezed his eyes closed and did the math. “Three hundred pieces per man. Norris will want his son's portion plus compensation for his death. Give him Valentine's portion and I'll compensate Norris for the death of his son.” He told Nullings, pushing his jaw forward.

“Once we get back to the Island, that is.”

“I'll have Astley make a note of it in his logs.” Nullings nodded, agreeing with his Captain and friend. “How's our bargaining chip holding up?” He asked, with a knowing smile.

“Stubborn and feisty.” Henry replied, glancing over his shoulder.

“Typical of all women.” Nullings laughed, his head thrown back.

“True enough.” Henry agreed, looking back at him. “Have Ellis keep us on course for Tortuga, but we won't be harboring there. So, have him anchor us off shore and the men will row out to it. They've earned a jaunt on shore after being at sea for the last eight months.”

“When we get the girl's ransom, do we still intend on returning to the Island?”

“Yes, we won't be able to hold anything more and we're already starting to ride lower in the water than we should.” He commented, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, we'll be in Tortuga within two days.”

“Excellent.” Henry nodded, pleased. “Have Valentine's body put in a shroud and we'll pay our respects to him this afternoon.” He instructed him, hearing you start to stir, disturbed by the sound of their voices.

“Aye, Captain.” Nullings nodded his head at Henry and went about his duties.

Henry closed the door as you pulled back the curtains, whimpering as the bright sunlight hit your unprepared eyes. “Good morning, pet.” He purred, smirking at you as you brushed your sleep tousled hair out of your face.

You huffed at him, rolling your eyes at his continued nickname for you, but didn't answer his greeting.

“Someone is a grumpy morning person.” He chuckled, openly teasing you.

“Only with bloodthirsty pirates.” You growled at him, trying to soothe the wrinkles in your skirts.

“Well, they don't call me Henry the Red for nothing, pet.” Henry grinned at you, unashamed and proud of himself. “We'll anchor off the coast of Tortuga in two days' time.” He informed you, combing his fingers through his messy curls.

“Tortuga?” You frowned up at him, surprised. “Why not Lockemirth?”

“I'm not going anywhere near Lockemirth until your dear papa has your ransom.” He replied, pulling his hair back with the leather string. “I'm not a stupid man, if I was to go near that island before hand, it would give him and the Crown amble opportunity to try and overtake my ship and crew. So, we'll wait in Tortuga.”

“Then, how will you know my father will have it?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him. “Tortuga and Lockemirth are eighty kilometers apart.”

Henry smirked at you, impressed. “A woman that knows her cartography.”

“I'm an educated woman, not the plague ridden whores you gallivant with.” You hissed at him, venomously.

“I have much finer tastes.” He replied, his stormy blue eyes scanning you for a long moment. “Anyhow, I have my ways of getting messages between the islands. So, you don't have to worry about that, pet.”

You glared daggers into him, wishing you had some means to wipe that smug look off his face. Henry stared back at you, he could see the thoughts flitting across your mind, you were either terrible at hiding how you were feeling or you weren't bothering to do so. Either way, he wasn't threatened by it or worried that you could pull it off or even attempt it to begin with, and he let that show on his own face.

“Enter!” He shouted, just as a knock came, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

His cabin door opened and the same man from the night before entered with another silver tray with food upon it, he paid no attention to you as he bowed his head to Henry, set the tray down on his desk and left again.

“Are you starving this morning as well, pet?” Henry asked, picking up a few bits of food off of his plate and popped them into his mouth, making a big deal out of chewing and how good it tasted.

You watched him eat and felt your stomach rumble in your stays, you hadn't eaten since early afternoon the day before and were parched beyond belief. Henry lifted a silver goblet to his nose, swirling its contents and taking a whiff of it with a satisfied hum, before taking a deep swallow.

“Mmm, simply remarkable.” He said, after rolling the mouthful of wine in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing. “A 1681, Spanish Red.” He spoke, licking his lips. “I've always loved red wine, so it works out in the end.”

You gulped, feeling your hunger start to break down your willpower as you watched him enjoy the wine and food, purposely taking his time and making a show of it. With every bite of food and sip of wine your hunger and desperation grew, to the point you almost became unhinged. Henry set his goblet down and picked up yours, holding it out to you, a playful and teasing smirk and expression on his face, continuing to poke holes in your weak resolve.

“You know you want it, pet.” He hummed, lowering the deep timber of his voice, taunting you. “Wet those sweet lips of yours.” He purred, his tone teasing more than one meaning of his words. “Be a pity to let yourself go to waste.”

Gulping and licking your lips, the last of your will dissipating as you shot forward and snatched the goblet from his hand, making him laugh, as you hastily downed it, your mind not taking a moment to ask your taste buds how it tasted. Henry picked his own goblet back up, slowly sipping his wine, while you started to gorge yourself on the food. He plucked up the uncorked bottle of wine on the tray and refilled your goblet, the rich and deep red liquid splashing onto the stained oak wood of his desk as the ship bucked on the waves.

“Easy, pet.” Henry cooed at you. “Don't make yourself sick.”

You slowed down, looking up at him as you swallowed down the bit of food you had been devouring, the look in your hungry and exhausted eyes shifting, then you gulped down, audibly. A broader smirk crossed Henry's face and he rolled his eerily blue eyes at you.

“I ate the same food off the same plate, pet. It's not fouled up.” He laughed at you, increasingly amused at your silliness at thinking he, or the cook, had some how poisoned the food. He touched his fingers under your chin, smirking at you.

“For Lord's sake, you're no use to me dead or damaged.”

Another knock sounded at the door and it opened without Henry's permission, revealing Nullings. “Captain, Valentine and his shroud have been prepared, all we wait for is you.” He informed Henry, lifting a brow at the two of you.

“If you aren't busy.” He added, clearing his throat.

“I'm not.” Henry replied, dropping his hand from your chin. “Just making sure the Governor's daughter had her breakfast.” He chuckled, gently patting your cheek, then polished off his wine and set it down on his desk. “Come along, pet. All aboard are required to attend.” He told you, starting for the door.

“Attend what?” You asked, staying where you were.

“One of my men, Valentine Tash, was injured in the skirmish yesterday.” Henry replied, pulling on his jerkin. “He died, after having his arm nearly blown off.” He explained to you, settling the garment on his body.

“What's that matter to me?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “You were the monster that attacked my ship. It's your fault, he's dea--”

Henry bolted across the room, the back of his big hand connecting to your surprised cheek in a harsh smack; if it wasn't for his desk, you would have crumbled to the floor, instead you fell upon the desk, sending the tray of food crashing to the floor and spilling your goblet and the bottle of wine across it.

“Every man, and woman, on this ship knows the difficulties and dangers of being on these seas and in this occupation. Death is part of that expectation, no matter who they are. If they die, from whatever the cause, they have been cautioned and informed of it, and still they chose to come. That isn't on my head or on my heart.” He hissed at you, face twisted with rage.

“So, I suggest you watch your tongue, especially when you speak of things an insolent and ignorant girl does not understand.” He grabbed you by the elbow and yanked you up onto your feet. “Do you understand what I've said?”

You looked up at him, sniffling, eyes brimming with tears and your cheek welted with his knuckles. “Y-e-s.” You hiccupped and gulped thickly.

“Good.” Henry replied, tense. “Now, we're going out there and you will behave yourself, and if you try anything stupid, you won't leave this cabin again, until I have everything I want from your father in three days.” He warned you, shoving you in the direction of the door.

You tripped over the threadbare rug on the floor, but was thankfully caught by Nullings, before you fell. He gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, supporting you until you managed to right yourself, then kindly let you go. Henry moved in behind you, making you shiver as you followed Nullings out of the Captain's cabin. You blinked at the bright light of the morning as you stepped out onto the main deck of the ship, it seemed by the amount of people there as well, that the entire crew was out and waiting for the ceremony to send Valentine off to his watery grave.

It would be a lie, if you said you weren't interested in how pirates dealt with their dead. You had spent much of the voyage on the Kilmartin dreaming up scenarios about pirates and their ways of life on the high seas; but being kidnapped and held for ransom wasn't one of them though.

You saw a canvas wrapped body on a long wood platform that was balanced on the edge of the ship with two men holding onto it, so it wouldn't prematurely fall into the roiling sea below. The men gathered around their Captain, removing what hats they were wearing and bowed their heads. Henry stood tall beside you, his broad shoulders straight and tense as he surveyed his crew, his expression hard and unreadable.

“We gather here in honor of our mate, Valentine Tash.” He said, speaking loudly over the waves crashing against the hull. “He was a good man, a hard worker and a sound fighter. It is unfortunate that we have lost him, but he will forever be remembered.”

The crew let out three cheers in agreement and honor of their fallen comrade, before Henry gave a stiff nod of his head and the two men holding the body, lifted the platform and the shrouded body of Valentine Tash slid off of it and into the abyss below, never to be seen again. The crew lingered for another moment of quiet, before silently returning to their stations. You stood beside Henry as he continued to stare after the now vanished body, you saw, now that his men were gone or distracted by their duties, the look in his ordinarily hard and guarded eyes was one of a raw heart, one that had lost many men over the years and, even after telling you he felt none of it, was a man that had felt all of those deaths as if they were his own.

Henry caught you staring at him. “What?” He snapped, regaining command of his face.

“Nothing, just enjoying the sunshine.” You replied, blinking up at the blue and cloudless sky. “You?”

His eyes narrowed, then blinked at you, softening slightly. “Same.” He answered, his voice calmer. “It won't last though.” He added a second later, squinting into the sunlight.

“Why do you say that?” You replied, frowning and trying to see what he was talking about.

Henry dropped his eyes to you, amused. “I've spent my entire life either on or by the sea.” He replied, moving to the railing. “All that experience teaches you the language and nature of it. Even if it looks calm, sunny and beautiful, there's always something brewing just beyond the horizon.” He told you, leaning his forearms against the worn and sun faded railing.

“There's a storm coming.” He whispered, narrowing his eyes at a very thin strip of dark clouds. “But, we should be off Tortuga by the time it arrives.”

“Will we make landfall then?” You asked, gulping at the thought of being on the ship, any ship, with a storm going off.

“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “We'll be as safe on the ship as we are on land.” He could see the fear and anxiety in your face and eyes. “Don't fret, pet. I've sailed this ship around hurricanes and she hasn't sunk yet.” He grinned at you, giving you an odd feeling of safety, but also a feeling of uneasiness.

“Then again, she can't.”

“All ships sink.” You frowned, shaking your head at him.

“Not this one, pet. Not this one.” Henry replied, still grinning as he looked his beloved ship over. “She's special.”

“Special how?” You answered, starting to worry for the pirate's mental soundness.

Henry pushed off the railing and caught your chin in his fingers, tipping your head back to look up at his amused face. “That's nothing for you to worry about, pet. There are some things beyond your innocent understanding in this world and beyond it.” He told you, his eyes darkening with an almost sinister delight.

You jerked up with a gasp as a crack of lightning struck the water, so close to the Crimson Jersey that Henry's cabin lit up like broad daylight. You gripped the blankets of Henry's bed as the ship tilted and swayed at nauseating degrees under the heavy winds, the torrential rain hammered every part of the ship, pattering against the glass of the stern windows like small pebbles. You gasped again as a hiss filled the cabin, but slightly relaxed again, a spark of light flared to life and illuminated Henry's face as he leaned over his desk to touch the flame to the blackened wick of his tallow candle.

“I didn't mean to wake you.” You spoke, barely audible above the storm.

“You didn't.” Henry replied, crossing the room with a small struggle.

“I'm impressed how well you and your men can walk across the room or deck, when the ship is bucking like a wild animal.”

“It's land that tends to be tricky for most sailors.” He chuckled, pouring a drink, unphased by the glasses moving across the table. “Your body gets so used to the sway of the ship, it doesn't know how to react when you're finally on unmoving land again.” He told you, picking the glasses up and crossed over to you, holding one of them out.

“It's like watching a newborn babe try to walk for the first time.” He laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I'm supposing this is your first time at sea.” He said, sipping his drink.

“It is.” You nodded, staring into your own glass for a moment, before lifting it to your lips. “I would have rather stayed in London.”

“With your mother?”

Your eyes jerked over to him.

“You were the only woman on board the Kilmartin that my men and I encountered.” He clarified. “I doubt your father had you himself, so that leaves your mother still in London herself.”

“She is still in London.” You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip and trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of tears that wanted to overtake you.

You were so consumed by all the events of late, being forced to leave the only home you had ever known, to sail half a world away to a teeny island, where you knew no one other than your father. Then to be kidnapped by Pirates and held for a ransom, that you feared if your father didn't or wasn't able to pay would only end badly for you. It was all adding up on you, especially when you were still trying to deal and come to terms with your mother's passing.

“I doubt we could have brought her, even if we wanted too.” You mumbled into your glass.

“Did she not wish to join you both?” Henry asked, head slightly tilting as he noticed the cloud that crossed your face, even in the crepuscular light of the cabin.

“I'm sure she would have come with us, if she could have.” You looked up at him, eyes shining and red. “But, sailors already believe a woman on board is a bad omen, I shudder to think what they would have said about transporting the dug up coffin of one.”

Henry's mouth dropped open for a moment, before he regained his composure. “She's passed on then.”

You nodded your head, dropping your eyes back to your barely touched drink. “A year ago, this past month.” You whispered, ringing the tip of your finger around the rim of the glass. “She was sick for a very long time.” You sniffled and gulped, feeling your strength start to waver.

“I'm very sorry.” Henry whispered, softly. “It must still hurt you deeply.”

His words were the keys that opened the floodgates to everything you had pushed behind it. The walls of your throat closed and your eyes burned with the liquid fire of your tears, your breathing hitched, catching in your throat, and your shoulders trembled as tears washed over your cheeks, dripping into the glass still in your lap. Henry sighed, his face pinching in concern and sympathy as he watched you melt into sobs. Setting both glasses on the rocking floor, Henry reached out for you, resting his hands on your arms and gently pulled you into his arms and lap, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed your back, letting the sway of the ship rock the two of you. You clung to him and cried yourself out in his arms, drenching the shoulder of Henry's shirt, but he didn't care, he was a pirate after all and used to being wet.

He gently traced the outline of the whale bones sewn into your corset, beneath your dress, feeling the steadily growing weight of your body on top of his as you calmed down and fell half asleep. Biting and pressing his lips together, then sighing, Henry stood with you in his arms and leaned over the bed, gently laying you down and covered you up, before tugging his tear stained shirt off over his head, tossing it on his desk. He studied your sleeping form in his bed and sighed again, before taking the two neglected glasses back to their tray, then returned to the bed, sitting down on the edge and stared out the stern windows as the storm continued to rage around the ship.

“Look after us.” He muttered to himself, before getting into bed with you and pulled the curtains closed against the bright lightning flashes.

Henry stiffened as you whimpered in your sleep, at a rumble of thunder, before rolling into his side and relaxing again. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, but didn't move away from you, not that he could to start with, he was already laying on the very edge of the bed, so if he wanted to get away from you, he'd have to go back to where he'd been sleeping below the stern windows. So, he didn't move or push you away from him, knowing you would likely only find your way back up against his side, figuring if it gave you some measure of comfort, he might as well enjoy the warmth of your body pressed up against his, being the first woman of any standing to share a bed with him in many months, even since the last time he was on land.

“Land ho!”

The cry woke you from a sound sleep and for a moment you forgot what ship you were on, until you opened your eyes and saw Henry pulling on his discarded shirt and his boots, before unlocking his cabin door and stepped out onto the deck.

Glancing out the stern windows, you saw the mid morning sun was shining and there was even the cry of seagulls, as if the storm had never happened, and the first real sign there was actually land nearby. Excitement blossomed inside of you and you jumped to your feet, quickly going out of Henry's cabin, hot on his heels. Henry was standing on the starboard side of the ship, a spyglass held up to one of his eyes as he swept it over the glittering water.

You didn't need a spyglass to see the approaching stretch of land and felt your heart and spirits soar as high as the seagulls beginning to circle the masts. Tortuga. You heard several of the men aboard murmur across the deck as they gathered, grinning and clasping each other on the back and shoulders, excited at the prospect of touching down on land again, getting their hands on quality booze and ladies of the evening. You couldn't wait for the opportunity to sneak off the ship and find safety somewhere on the island, surely some kind soul would point you to the Mayor or Governor, a British Subject, who would then give you safe passage to your father in Lockemirth.

“Nullings, have Ellis anchor us close enough off the island that the men can row out and enjoy themselves.” Henry barked the order, snapping the spyglass shut.

“Aye, Captain!” Nullings shouted back and ran up to the helm to relay the message.

“Drop the long boats once we're anchored offshore, men!” He yelled to the gathered men on the deck.

“Aye, Cap'n!” His men roared back, throwing up their hands in cheer.

“You.” Henry called, turning towards you.

You started and looked at him as he strode over to you, catching your elbow and turning you back towards his cabin, marching you through the door.

“From this point, until your father gives me my ransom, you are not leaving this cabin.”

“Why!” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“Because, I know in that little head of yours, you're already plotting on how to get yourself to that island and I'm not losing my bargaining chip, and if my men have to spend their first time on land, in months, looking for you, they'll bitch about it until we get home.” He told you, sternly.

“Now, stay put and behave.”

“And if I don't?” You retorted, lifting your nose at him.

“I'll tie you to a fucking chair for the rest of your time here.” He replied with a growl, then slammed the cabin door shut, the sound of it locking following.

You let out a frustrated shriek and stomped your feet, before angrily pacing the cabin, mumbling under your breath about how much you hated him and his stupid pirate crew, hoping your father and the Crown sunk his unsinkable ship with him on it. You soon felt the ship slow and the scrapping of the anchor chain unwinding from its storage as they dropped anchor, no doubt close enough to the island for the crew to row the longboats out to shore and enjoy themselves.

“I hope they all get the bloody pox!” You shouted at the cabin door, picking up a glass from Henry's desk and launching it at the door.

“I want you to employ our usual method of message running for our ransoms.” Henry told Nullings as they stood on the deck, huddled together.

“Aye.” Nullings nodded, taking the heavy pouch of gold coins Henry held out to him. “The auction should be bustling, taking in all the ships currently in harbor.” He observed, glancing at how packed Tortuga harbor was. “I'll have Barnard and David take our messenger to Lockemirth Island. With any luck the Kilmartin survived the storm and is already anchored in their harbor. But, if they're late getting in, I'll have them wait.” He explained to Henry, running a hand over his smooth, suntanned and sweat drenched head.

“That leaves one other thing.” He sighed. “What if they wrecked in the storm? What do we do with the girl?”

Henry rolled his jaw, mulling over the possibility. “We'll deal with it, if it happens. Until then, act as if its still sailing.”

Nullings nodded. “Aye.”

With that, Nullings boarded the first long boat that had been lowered into the water and rested as the men manning the oars rowed them ashore. Once they landed, Nullings marched up the crowded beach, smiling as a few of the Crimson Jersey crew called out to him or made lewd gestures before vanishing into the streets to find the taverns and whore houses. As much as Nullings wanted to do the same, he was on official ship's business, so it would have to wait until later in the day, once his task was completed.

It only took a handful of minutes for Nullings to find the place he wanted to be, the Tortuga Slave Auction, melding into the crowd that pressed in on the auction block, voices from various positions in the crowd shouting out prices. He waited until he found one of interest and joined the chorus, not allowing the other buyers to push him out, until he finally won the bid and left the crowd to pay and collect them.

“You understand English?” He asked the teenaged boy, pulling him into a quiet and discreet corner.

“Yes.” The boy replied with a mild accent, and a nod of his head.

“Excellent.” Nullings smiled. “What's your name?”

“Hany.”

“Well, listen here, Hany. I'm the First Mate of the Crimson Jersey, and I have a task for you; a task that once you fulfill, you'll gain your freedom and a passage to any place you wish to go or a place on our crew, that will be left up to you.” He explained to him.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I do.” Hany nodded again, blinking at Nullings, wide eyed.

Nullings removed a small, rolled up piece of parchment out of his pocket. “You will take this to the Governor of Lockemirth Island, two of my men will take you there, then wait for his reply and return here with it. You will find me at the Golden Mermaid, ask for Nullings.” He said, handing him the note.

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.” Hany shook his head, tucking the note into the pocket of his filthy and tattered pants.

“Great! Follow me.” Nullings nodded, then took the teen to the boat where Barnard and David were waiting for him.

With that done and nothing else to do, Nullings went to the Golden Mermaid tavern in central Tortuga and ordered a room, a pint and a woman to fill his time, while he waited for Hany, Barnard and David to return with Sir Thomas's reply.

Thomas was a mess after Henry had taken you for ransom, going from spurts of violent anger to deep depression and lamenting. Captain Davis tried his best to keep the new Governor's spirits up, but more often than not, failed at it.

“The vile things that damned pirate and his men could be doing to my beautiful and innocent daughter.” He raged, pacing the cabin in a highly agitated state. “I swear, if he harms a hair on her head, I'll hang the bastard thrice!”

“You must keep your composure, Thomas.” Davis replied, watching his friend pace from his seat behind his desk.

“Composure!” Thomas roared, stopping before the Captain's desk and slapped it with his palms. “I don't have to do any such a thing! You are not a father, you do not know the pressure and responsibility it is for one to care for their children, especially their defenseless daughters!”

Davis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “You know my meaning, Tom.” He replied, exhausted. “We'll be in Lockemirth harbor in a couple hours time, then we can muster what we need to rescue her, in safety.”

“Yes, we will.” Thomas growled, starting to pace again. “I'll be damned if I give that abominable pirate a cent from anywhere! The only payment he will get will be to the hangman's noose.”

A few hours later, the HMS Kilmartin docked in Lockemirth harbor and Sir Thomas disembarked from the ship, meeting the welcoming party the gentry of the island had put together for him, and you had you been with him. But, Thomas was in no mood for a welcome party and good cheer under the circumstances. He demanded to be shown the base of his operations and have all the top officials of the island to be assembled there, at once.

Several people branched out from the large group that had congregated around him, to set about his orders, while the rest of them showed him the Governor's office.

“What is the meaning of this?” One of the officials demanded as he entered Sir Thomas's office.

“Yes.” Chimed another, entering behind the first.

“We have serious business to conduct.” Thomas snapped, glaring at the full room of officials.

“What business can be so urgent that you must conduct it the moment you've stepped on the island?”

“While we were sailing here, we were attacked and boarded by pirates.” Thomas replied, his temper mounting more and more.

“Pirates!” Several gasped.

“Yes, pirates!” He barked, impatiently. “They've not only stolen several valuables from the HMS Kilmartin, they've also kidnapped my daughter and are holding her for ransom.”

A murmur went through the collection of men in the room, agitating everyone.

“What is the pirate's demand for her back?” One of the men asked, lifting a brow at Sir Thomas.

“Three-fourths of the islands money and goods.”

“Absolutely not!” The man roared back. “You can't just show up here and give them almost all that we have, I don't care if the pirate has your mother!” He protested, several of the others agreeing.

“I have no intention of giving them anything, you fools.” Thomas hissed, banging a fist on his desk.

“Then, how do you propose we retrieve your daughter back?”

“That—what is it?” Thomas barked as the door to his office opened to his clerk, Samuel.

“There is a boy here to see you, Sir.” The clerk replied, sheepishly. “Says, he has a message for you.”

“Tell him to wait.”

“But, Sir, he says it's from a man on a ship called the Crimson Jersey.”

Thomas stiffened at his words. “Let him in.” He said, pushing off his desk.

The clerk pushed the door open and stood out of the way, omitting Hany into the office. He looked around at the full room and gulped, slowly removing the note Nullings had given him out of his pocket and held it up, looking into the face of everyone in the room, not sure which of them it was meant for.

“Governor?” He said, hesitantly.

“Yes, that's me.” Thomas replied, stepping from behind his desk. “Hand it here.”

Hany took a couple steps forward, meeting Thomas halfway and allowed him to take the note from his hand. “I wait for reply.” He informed your father, uncomfortable.

“Yes, yes.” Thomas nodded, breaking the wax seal and unrolled the stiff paper.

“To the Governor of Lockemirth Island. I send you this note to inform you that I and your daughter, who is in good health and condition, are quite nearby to your island of Lockemirth. I send this messenger and expect him, and your answer, back before first light tomorrow morning. If he, or your reply, do not return by that time, I will take that as a sign of your refusal to pay her ransom and your leaving her to my mercy. Captain Henry Cavill of the pirate ship, the Crimson Jersey.”

Thomas read the note aloud, his hands slowly starting to shake with the multitude of emotions he was struggling to keep at bay.

“What is your plan, Governor?” One of the men asked, watching him restlessly pace the room.

He paced the room for several more moments, trying to gather his thoughts and form some sort of plan to get you back from Henry. Stepping up to the globe that was beside his desk, he studied it for a long moment, before turning to his desk and took up a quill and a piece of parchment paper, scribbling down his reply to Henry's note, and sealed it, pressing the signet ring on his pinkie into the cooling wax to make it official.

“Take this back to him and tell him we'll be waiting for him at that location.” He told Hany, then dismissed him to return to Nullings with the reply.

“Sir?” A man impatiently growled.

“We'll be meeting the pirate on Hafstead island.” Thomas replied, meeting the group's eye. “There is only one likely place that the Pirate and his men would make harbor in, and that's Tortuga. It's the only Island close enough to us and is friendly to their kind.” He explained his logic.

“Putting Hafstead island between Tortuga and Lockemirth, a perfect neutral ground for our transaction.”

“You stated you wouldn't be giving them their ransom demands? How then, are you planning to get your daughter back from them?”

“Misdirection.” Thomas smiled at him.

“We'll fill two crates with the goods and the rest with something else that will weigh roughly the same as the real two. They'll demand to see proof that we have their demands, so when they do, we show them the first two. Once they've handed my daughter over and move to start loading the ransom onto their long boats, we'll have guards from here attack, and all will be well.”

“I'll have my daughter back and the island will lose none of its profits.”

“You're sure this will work?”

“Yes.” He nodded, confidently.

With what men who wanted to go ashore gone, Henry let some of the tension go out of his shoulders, before heading back into his cabin. He opened the door just as you were opening one of the windows at the back of the ship, crouching in it, poised to jump into the water blow.

“Don't you dare!” Henry barked between clenched teeth, pointing a finger at you in warning, his lip curling with anger.

You looked over your shoulder at him, heart racing in your chest and hands shaking as you gripped the open window frame. Both of your hearts paused for a frightful moment, and everything became slow-motion; Henry taking a slow step forward as you gradually let go of the window and tipped forward out of it. Reality caught up as you slipped out the window, free falling countless meters, just as Henry stuck his head out the open window to see you crash into the foamy waves.

“Fuck!” He shrieked, enraged and concerned.

Glancing behind him for a moment, Henry tore off his jerkin and boots, before swan diving out of the window and into the water after you. Making it into the water, Henry saw you slowly sinking and struggling to swim with the weight of your clothing bearing down on you. Bubbles rose towards him as you struggled to hold your breath and quickly losing the fight. Kicking his feet harder, Henry reached you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against his sturdy body, buoying both of you, before his fingers dug into the ties of your corset and dress, ripping them open and letting the heavy garment slip off your body and sink into the oblivion of the ocean below. Kicking his legs in unison with yours, Henry propelled you both to the surface of the choppy waves.

“You fucking brat!” Henry hissed, shaking his head, his long hair coming free from its tie, before sticking two fingers into his mouth and let out a shrill whistle, right beside your ear, uncaring if it hurt you as you coughed and sputtered for air.

A shrill whistle sounded back as he guided you around to the side of the ship, the remaining crew leaning over the railing, to see the two of you treading water.

“Man overboard!” A call went out, the men jumping to action.

“Captain overboard!” Another corrected back.

Several of the crew helped Henry haul you back onto the ship from a small ladder built into its starboard side. You stood on the deck in nothing but your shift, hugging your arms against your chest and shivering violently in the strong breeze. Henry finally set his soaking feet onto the deck, the men huddled around him for a moment, to make sure he was all right, but his blue eyes were burning holes into you.

“Go back to your duties!” He bellowed at his men, who paused for a moment, then scattered out of sight.

Henry snapped across to you, his hand raised and stopping a centimeter away from your cheek, you scrunched up your body, wincing and turning your head away, anticipating the slap. He shook, throat bobbing up and down as he struggled to control his white hot anger. His hand unclenched and squeezed around your jaw, in a bruising grip. He jerked your head forward to look up at him, making you whimper. Your frightened eyes looked into his furious blue gaze, like he was tearing you apart with his sight alone.

You shivered again and whined, cold and scared, the suspense of not knowing what Henry was going to do to you, for your open and continued disobedience.

His hand moved from your chin and grabbed you by the neck, making you yelp with alarm, terrified he was about to kill you. But he growled deep in his throat; dull nails digging into your skin. Henry jerked you sharply towards him, crushing you against his soaking body and crashing his lips to your cold ones, in an angry and sloppy kiss, his other hand coming up to tangle in the back of your wet hair. You struggled against him, squirming, beating and clawing at his chest, but Henry wasn't deterred, his continued to kiss you, for a long moment, before breaking it, then, with his hand still in your hair, Henry dragged you back into his cabin and shoved you onto his bed, uncaring that you would get the blankets and mattress wet.

Stomping across the cabin, he retrieved a coil of twine that was on a sideboard and crossed back to you. Yanking your arms up, Henry tightly weaved the rough twine around your wrists and tied it off, leaving a length of it hang from it, before cutting the excess with a small knife that was in his belt. Taking the lead of your bonds, Henry tied it to one of the bed posts.

“You're a fool.” You hissed at him as he picked up his boots and jerkin, closing the window as well.

“Am I?” He laughed, tossing his jerkin over the back of his chair.

“My father doesn't suffer Pirates.” You replied, jerking on your bonds. “He never has and he never will. You may think you'll get what you want. But, the moment he has me. He will kill you.” You told him with a deep conviction.

“He's been killing Pirates, better than you, before you were alive.”

Henry turned towards you, eyes wide with focus as he regarded you and digested your words, but before he could answer you, the door flew open and Nullings came flying in, skidding to a stop as he noticed you tied to the bed, then looked to Henry with a questioning look.

“What's the word?” Henry asked, ignoring his expression.

Clearing his throat, Nullings replied. “The Governor has replied to our ransom, he'll meet us at Hafstead island with our demands in exchange for the girl, tomorrow afternoon.”

Henry gripped the back of his chair, drumming his fingers against the carved dark wood, then glanced over at you, before pushing off his chair and hustled out of the cabin with Nullings, closing the door behind them.

“It's a set up.” Henry told him, keeping his voice low.

“What?” Nullings snapped, brow and forehead creasing. “Why do you say that?”

“Something she said.” He replied, carding a hand through his drying curls. “I want you to go back into town, find a girl her height and appearance..”

“I'm sure the man knows what his own flesh and blood looks like, Hank.” Nullings huffed, shaking his head. “Be real.”

“Listen to me.” Henry growled back, chest heaving. “Cover her head, so they don't see her face. That way, we find out just how truthful the dear old Governor is being. Take everything they bring for the ransom, only after everything loaded, will you give her to them.”

“And where will she be?”

“With me.” Henry replied. “I know Hafstead island, I know a good place to keep her. If anything goes wrong, I'll take her back aboard here, we'll all come back to the ship and head for our island.”

“You want to take her back to Shipwreck Island, if something goes awry?”

“That was the deal.” Henry barked at him. “His refusal to pay, would forfeit her to my mercy.”

“What do you bloody plan to do with her?” Nullings asked, exasperated.

“I'll figure something out.” He replied, unperturbed. “Do you understand the plan, Ben?”

Nullings tapped his foot, antsy, as he ran through the plan in his head, things were getting so much more complicated than he anticipated.

“Yeah, yeah!” He sighed, giving in. “I got it, Hank.”

“Great, get about it.” Henry smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder and going back into his cabin. “You and I, my sweet pet.” He grinned, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Have a date tomorrow.”

167 notes · View notes

ombreblossom · 4 years ago

Text

i am and i am not (what you choose to see)

This is a birthday fic for @rosy-cheekx, but in many ways I wrote it as much for myself as I did for them.

Featuring: a gender-questioning Martin in the safehouse. What better time to explore one’ gender identity than while one is on the run from dangerous eldritch forces?

Content warnings (please let me know if there anything i’ve missed): kissing, very minor internalized transphobia, and a brief discussion of Martin’s mother.

AO3 Link: here~

“There’s no rush, Martin. Take your time,” Jon raises his voice from the other side of their bedroom door, passing time running his fingers across Daisy’s sparse knick-knacks—just enough of them to present a front of homeyness to any errant visitors but not enough of them to clutter her otherwise spartan living space. Several Archers novels and otherwise miscellaneous reading materials line the single squat bookshelf in the entire cottage, an unbroken coating of dust overlaying everything. Jon picks up a porcelain dog (or a wolf?) and rolls it over in his hands.

“The longer I take, the more likely it is I’m never going to leave this room.” Martin almost-yells back, interrupting the muffled frustrations of someone wrangling an unfamiliar article of clothing.

“And what a shame that’d be. I rather hoped we’d trot down to the village today for a late lunch.”

"Gotta take advantage of the warm weather while we have it," Martin adds.

"Exactly."

"And I'm sure you have no ulterior motives whatsoever."

"Yes, of cour—wait, what?"

“Don’t worry," Martin says with a worrying lilt. "I know what you’re really after.”

Jon pauses and, after a beat, replies, “Oh? And what would that be?”

“Here, I’ll set the scene for you: enter Fiona’s Used Books.” Jon can see (in his mind’s eye, not his eldritch one) Martin preparing his best mock-theatrical pose before continuing. “In the far-right corner, the side of the establishment that faces the setting sun, is a raised platform. Cushions and pillows of all shapes and colors and sizes are strewn about the platform, some left contorted by their previous users before they left the shop to go about their day. Two wide-pane windows allow a full complement of the sun’s rays to gently warm the area. A lone figure lies nestled among several cozy-looking pillows, completely dead to the world but for a purring cat atop the figure’s chest—”

“Yes, yes, all right. You’ve made your point,” Jon grouses. “I hope you know that I consider spending time with you much more important than sunbathing with the bookshop owner’s cat.”

“I know, Jon; don’t worry.” An audible grin carries through the door.

Jon directs his own smile at the door and says, “Yes, well, now that you mention it, I did want to stop at the bookshop if we had time.”

“I think we can make that work. I’d hate to miss seeing you be adorable with Maggie.”

Jon sputters a bit in futile indignation. Martin has made his opinion of Jon's alleged adorableness abundantly clear, and it's not worth challenging him on it. He'd let Martin have this, even though the idea of anyone thinking he's adorable rankles him almost as much as the word spooky does.

(This is less the case coming from Martin, but he’d sooner shuffle off his mortal coil than tell him that.)

The weight of the porcelain wolf—he’s decided—in his hand grabs his attention. In fidgeting with it, he’s managed to rub all the dust off its coat, revealing a delicate blue glaze swirling around the figure. Wiping the excavated dust on his trousers, a concerning realization creeps into Jon's awareness. "Martin?" He calls out.

Martin yells back something questioning, the exact words lost in their reverberations around the inside of their bedroom.

“I know you’re trying to distract me right now,” Jon says matter-of-factly. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, I completely understand.”

All sounds of movement cease on the other side of the door—worryingly quickly.

“Martin?” Jon ventures.

“No. I…want to do this. I want to be more myself.”

Jon nods. “All right. Let’s have a look at you, then.”

It takes several long seconds, but the door creaks open, leaving just enough room for Martin to poke through the gap and reveal dark, furrowed brows set in a face that belies its owner’s vocal confidence just a moment ago. Tension lends Martin’s grip on the door a strength that looks painful from where Jon stands.

“Just gimme a second, gimme a second. Let me…let me get my bearings.” Martin’s visible shoulder, draped in a sheer dark-blue fabric, lifts and sinks with long, deep breaths.

A wave of concern washes over Jon. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I’m-I’m scared, I think. There’s no reason to be scared, but—"

“Who says you need a reason to be scared of something?” Jon interjects, and he immediately regrets the hard edge he hears in them.

Martin exhales sharply and averts his eyes away from Jon, grip tightening on the door, something Jon wouldn’t have thought possible. “Oh, you know, just the fact that we’re on the run from a body-hopping avatar of the Beholding, who can see us through anything even resembling an eye and almost certainly knows exactly where we are.”

“Yes…I know. I’ve been trying not to think about it, if I’m being honest. But even though there’s this uncertainty looming over us, you’re more than justified in feeling afraid of more…mundane things.”

Martin can’t help but scoff at that. “Yeah. Right."

“Do you…do you want to talk about what’s going on?” Jon asks, softness smothering any nascent trace of compulsion. The Beholding doesn’t get to have this, not if Jon has anything to do with it.

“I don’t….” Martin exhales again. “I’ve never tried to be this before,” he says, staring at the neat rows of hardwood planks to Jon’s left. “So much of my life has been just letting other people see me how they wanted to see me because it…I don’t know, helped me be someone specific to them when they needed it. I’ve been someone who won’t stir up a fuss; someone to project their frustrations onto; someone who cares for others for the sake of it; and, definitely most frequently, someone who presents as a man.

“There never seemed a point in saying, no, there’s more here than what I’m letting you see, you know? Sometimes it’s simpler to reduce myself to a single quality, even if it’s never helped me be close to people.

“But if I leave this cottage now, people are going to try to categorize me, try to match me up with some image they have preconceived in their minds, and they won’t be able to. And I’m not sure I should want that anymore, either. I guess the main thing is….” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “It’s terrifying to try to be something other than what the world sees you to be.”

Jon can’t let that go unanswered. Jon needs Martin’s attention for this, so he brings his hands to rest on each of his cheeks, not so much holding him in place but gently suggesting that’s his intention. Jon wouldn’t begrudge Martin his space if he needed it.

“You’re right. It is terrifying letting people see past the outward veneer we put up.” Jon says, concern still present but receding. “It’s not really my place to tell you how to work through that terror, but I am here for you—all of you, not just the parts of you you’re used to showing the world—and I’ll support you however I can.”

“God, Jon, how can you just say things like that?”

Jon makes a sound that’s something just shy of a laugh. “Because they’re true, Martin.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Come on out, Martin; it’s just us, and I want to see all of you, if you’ll let me.”

Still mostly hidden by the door, Martin stares at Jon, Jon with his myriad marks and scars; his long, unbound gray-streaked hair; and an extra ten years perpetually set in his shoulders. He’s pinned by the intensity of the affection in Martin’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you first?” Martin asks, voice terribly quiet.

The request shakes Jon to his core, but he recovers quickly, nodding his assent. “Please do.”

Martin steps out from behind the door and kisses Jon, Jon’s eyes closing on reflex before he can get a good look at him. The romance novels Jon used to pick up when the ache for a happy ending of his own became too painful to ignore any longer would have him feeling light and airy, almost senseless, as if suspended in space and time as he and Martin exchanged breath. Jon has never felt more grounded. He’s never felt more aware of every sensation within and without his body; the sensations of Martin’s hot breath on his face and his chapped lips pressing against his own keep him firmly tethered to the here and now. Jon’s heart hammers in his chest—so much so he’s sure Martin can feel it, too, their chests pressed together as they are.

When they break apart, Jon opens his eyes and says breathlessly, “Let’s get a good look at you. The mirror’s just over here.” Jon takes his hands back to make the journey easier but feels his heart drop when Martin looks back at the door left ajar in their haste to come together. He looks bereft. Bereft of what, Jon’s can’t be entirely sure, but Jon makes a judgment call and grabs one of Martin’s hands and pulls him along toward the far end of the room, their fingers interlaced.

It had seemed a bit odd for Daisy to have such a vanity piece, but Jon's thankful for it and thankful it wasn't as firmly affixed to the wall in their bedroom as it at first seemed. It would have made for cramped space indeed to have them both crowding around it, and Jon doesn’t want Martin to be alone for this.

They stop just in front of the mirror, Jon off to the side and Martin situated front and center. He gives Jon’s hand a grateful squeeze and looks at his reflection.

“What do you see when you look at yourself, love?” Jon prompts, squeezing Martin’s hand right back.

“I see myself wearing this dress we found rather miraculously in this northern Scottish village of three hundred whole people.”

“And?”

“And it’s…fwooshy.”

“Fwooshy.”

Martin nods with all the sage wisdom of a learned poet. “Yes. It’s light and it moves when I move. It feels like it’s barely touching me at all times, which is so different from how my normal trousers and jumpers feel.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

“Mm-hmm. And it’s just pretty, don’t you think?

“Indeed.” Jon debates drawing attention to the question Martin is dancing around, but he trusts Martin to get there in time. “I thought so the moment we found it.”

Martin makes a non-committal sound. “You know, this is a lovely color on me.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve never really seen you wear darker colors before now. You always wore jumpers with a lot of bright colors around the Archives.”

“Yeah. It was, um. My mum, she used to say stuff like, ‘Why do you want to look so dreary all the time? Bright colors look so much better on you,’ and I guess that stuck.” Martin’s voice takes on an affect somewhere between disappointed and exhausted as he imitates his mother, and Jon struggles not to form opinions about that until they’ve had time to talk about her more. “I think she liked looking at the brighter colors I’d wear, especially once she couldn’t really leave our flat very often. I want to think they reminded her of the outside. She never said that, though. I don’t know.

“Wearing a color like this makes me happy, though. Wearing delicate clothes like this that don’t hide me away makes me happy. I want to say I feel….” Martin trails off.

“I feel beautiful, Jon. I really, really do.”

Jon tugs Martin’s hand, still joined with his own, up to his lips and places a kiss on his knuckles, at once affirming you’re beautiful, love and urging Martin to continue.

Visibly reorienting himself, Martin continues: “I see a Martin I’ve never let myself be before. A Martin not at odds with himself. With the rest of the world, maybe, but not with himself. I want to be him, Jon.”

“Then be him.”

“What, just like that?”

“Well, not ‘just like that.’ It’ll take time to feel comfortable presenting your whole self to other people, and that’s okay. The time and effort will be worth it; the world is better for having you, all of you, in it.”

Martin nods shakily, looking for all the world like he’s adrift in the middle of the ocean with sliver of land visible in any direction.

Jon waits for Martin to gather his thoughts. It's the least he can do, lend Martin his patience, patience he's long deserved and nary gotten from Jon for most of their relationship. Plus, it gives Jon some time to look, to really look at this beloved person standing next to him.

Jon's never given much weight to a person's looks as a part of his attraction to them. More often than not, Jon would start to find someone pleasing to look at only after becoming attracted to them in other ways. Otherwise, people were people and what they looked like mattered little in the face of their ideas, their arguments, and their kindnesses (or lack thereof).

Things progressed much the same way with Martin, and now? Well, Jon would like to never stop looking at Martin, thank you very much, and the universe would do well to cooperate with him on that.

Jon looks and looks and looks as Martin twists from side to side, watching as the dress billows out around him. The dress is elegant, made more so by the person wearing it. It's long, the navy chiffon wrap falling down around Martin’s ankles in gentle fluttering waves. A more opaque under-layer provides him some coverage from his chest to his mid-thighs but by no means diminishes his silhouette: soft and sturdy in equal measures. The dress cinches together an inch or so below his pecs, highlighting the generous curve of his hips. Shoulders Jon knows teem with freckles are enveloped in wide navy chiffon sleeves. The wrap-around style of the dress creates a deep V-shaped neckline, revealing more lovely freckles spread across his ample chest.

Martin is gorgeous—full stop. He fills out the dress beautifully, fabric flush with his skin in all the right places. Jon has to keep himself from flying apart with fondness for the man. The dress suits him; there was no way Jon could have anticipated how much it would after observing its shape uninhabited.

Martin cuts through Jon’s musing with a whisper: “Thank you, Jon.”

“For what?”

“For…for being here with me. Throughout all this.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, Martin,” Jon says in a tone that brooks no argument.

“Right. Cool,” he says airily, earning a light chuckle from Jon. He’s not at all surprised when he finds himself at the receiving end of a playful nudge.

“If you’re up to it, I’d still love to go into the village and share a meal with you, show you off to our lovely neighbors.” Jon stops for a moment before continuing, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “That is to say, I’m not trying to imply you’re my possession or that I get to parade you around as I please. I just mean that….” Jon looks deep into earthy brown eyes and presses on. “I just mean that I want everyone to know and see how much of a privilege it is to be with you, to be able to bear witness to you putting more of yourself out into the world—if you’re ready.”

“We’re already the novel English couple from out of town staying in the infamous nigh-abandoned cottage on a mysterious holiday—what’s another oddity for the list, eh?”

“Hey! I won’t have anyone talking about my—oh.” Jon makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “It occurs to me that you might prefer different terminology for yourself. Is it still all right for me to refer to you as my boyfriend’? Or would you prefer something without a gender connotation like ‘partner’?”

“Jon, I spent the last two and a half years wanting to be your boyfriend, and that hasn’t changed. Having you call me that doesn’t bother me and is, in fact, one of my dreams come true.” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand and wraps him up in his arms; Jon’s follow suit. “Thanks for asking, though. I’ll let you know if anything doesn’t feel quite right.”

Jon buries his face in the crook of Martin’s neck, savoring the warmth and gentle scent of something vaguely herbal permeating through the chiffon dress. They’ll return to Martin’s comment later, he’s sure. “All right. I like ‘boyfriend,’ too, just for the record.”

“I’m glad,” he says, leaning his head on Jon’s.

“So,” Jon starts, pouring all the comfort he can manage into his embrace, “how about it? A late lunch at the pub, and then we can go see Maggie if there's time?”

Martin pulls away from Jon and smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good. Let’s get going,” he says.

“Yes, let’s.” Jon moves toward their makeshift mudroom, which is nothing more than a sorry shoe rack leaned against the wall next to the front door and a couple of wooden pegs designed to hang heavy coats.

“And, Jon?”

Jon turns part of the way back around, cocking his head to the side in mild confusion. “Yes?”

There’s a subtle tension in Martin’s stance when Jon looks back at him, but he’s standing up noticeably straight and puffing himself up. This is familiar to him; he imagines he looks the same way when he’s about to go into a situation that involves delicate social interactions.

However, this is unfamiliar to him as something Martin does in the face of imminent discomfort. Martin isn’t a lip-worrier. Nor is he a fidgeter. Too much practice maintaining a guise of false cheer. No, what Martin does is shrink. He hunches over imperceptibly and draws his arms into himself, and makes the space he’s in feel that little bit bigger, that little bit lonelier, for his diminished presence in it.

Resolve blooms on Martin’s face. It’s a fragile thing, Jon can tell, but it’s there. Jon hopes this is just one instance of many of Martin deciding to take up his due space and filling the world with his presence. “Would you start also using ‘they’ and ‘them’ for me sometimes?” Martin starts, in a rush. He continues, slower and more hesitant, “I just want to try them out; see how they feel and all that. Might not be a permanent thing.”

“It would be my utmost honor and pleasure to use whatever language my boyfriend feels most comfortable with me using for them.” Jon says primly, bent slightly at the waist and arms swept to one side.

In a second, Martin closes the distance between them, hooking one arm under Jon’s legs and behind his back and twirling him around, both of them giggling all the while. Jon gets the impression Martin’s taking it easy (in consideration of the abundance of fabric flowing free around their ankles, if he had to guess), but it’s perfect anyway.

For his part, Jon is taking this opportunity to admire his boyfriend between giggles: the sepia highlights in their hair, brought out by the (no doubt by now) sinking sun; the double chin Jon likes tucking his head under when he wants to feel at home; the strength in all of Martin’s body but especially their arms, arms that hold him close as they spin around the room, never showing signs of faltering. Mingling with admiration for Martin’s physical form is an enduring respect for Martin’s courage and his life-long compassion. This is a person Jon would trust with his life and his heart.

Eventually, Martin returns Jon to solid ground. Jon would say it was too soon, but they’re both slightly out of breath, and time is moving ever forward. Jon practically falls into Martin, pressing their foreheads together. The smooth chiffon slides against Jon’s skin as they shift into comfortable positions. He closes his eyes and isn’t aware of much else that isn’t Martin.

“Hey there, handsome,” Martin says after more time passes. “What’s someone like me got to do to get someone like you out that front door so we can actually go on our date sometime this century?”

Jon’s eyes crinkle in the corners, deeply amused. “You might have to carry me over the threshold at this point. Just make sure to grab our shoes—wouldn’t want leave without completing your ensemble, after all.”

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jonmartin #jmart #set during the scottish safehouse period #ombre writes #ombre writes fic #internalized transphobia #(minor)#kissing

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sabraeal · 3 years ago

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Seven Swipes for Shirayuki, Chapter 3

[Read on AO3]

Written for @fade-touched-obsidian‘s birthday, which was....nearly two months ago. BUT IT IS DONE NOW, and quite frankly two months is better than some of my other late-birthday posts 🤣

The sedan is stifling.

It may be the luxury size, purchased through the deep pockets of the Wisteria’s business accounts, but the real leather interior presses in too tight, crushing her beneath the weight of her choices. This is what Shirayuki’s leaving behind: plush seats and plastic dividers, penthouse views and double ovens, the sort of security only money could buy.

She’d never wanted it; it had all just come part and parcel of being with Zen, the baseline for orbiting in the same stratosphere as his social circle. None of it had ever felt natural; guilt dogged her every time she slipped into the back seat of an empty car instead of the front, every dish left in the sink for the cleaning service smacked of superiority, and having a doorman--

Well, she’d been late to more than a few galas because she got caught up chatting. It was rude to just blow by someone without even a hello, and if Antonio had a new picture of his granddaughter, she couldn’t possibly pass without a coo or two over the sweet Sharpei of a baby his daughter, the light of his life, had given birth to.

Haruka had frowned at that one, digging the corners of his mouth to new depths as he told her, one is not late to a charity gala because they are indulging The Help.

Shirayuki tightened her arms around her diffenbachia, burying her face in its spotted leaves. It’s so clear now, so obvious: she was never going to fit in. There was never going to be room for her in Zen’s life. She was never going to be able to turn off the parts of her that saw other people as people; even if she could, she would never want to. Not even for him.

The radio flicks on, the smooth strains of Clair de Lune tumbling through the air, making the cab lighter, more spacious.

“Debussy?” she hums, the diffenbachia rustling with her curiosity. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a classical lover.”

Obi huffs, affront entirely feigned. “I’m a man of many depths.”

Shirayuki lifts her head, looking at the console’s digital display. “It was a preset, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “It was a preset. I thought you might like it better than smooth jazz or whatever else comes standard with wood interiors.”

“Probably.” She shifts back, removing her whole head from her leafy escape and settling it on the rest. It’s fine; she’ll be fine. Maybe it took six years to figure out what she should have known in six months, but she knows better now. No compromising, not like...that. Not with how she lives her life.

“So.” Obi’s gloves tighten on the wheel, leather creaking against leather. “You’re single now.”

Shirayuki nearly drops the whole vase. Not that it has far to go from her lap to the floor, but her plants have been shaken up enough the past few days. “E-excuse me?”

“For a whole--” he checks the dash with a grin that can mean nothing but trouble-- “forty-five minutes.”

“It’s been a week,” she reminds him primly, squeezing the diffenbachia for support. “Ever since--”

(”I can explain,” Zen says, fingers spiking runnels through his hair. “I wanted to do this in person--”)

“Sure,” Obi interjects smoothly. “But it’s only been forty-five minutes since you moved out of your sugar daddy’s apartment.”

“Zen was not my-- my--” the sedan is soundproof; Obi informed them all of it the moment he’d driven it off the lot, even if the way he said it had made Mitsuhide snap his name like a whip crack. She lowers her voice anyway. “Daddy.”

Obi’s hum does not fill her with confidence.

“He was only seven months older than me!” she huffs. “It’s biologically impossible for him to be a big brother let alone a-- a father.”

“Daddy is a state of mind, not an age gap. Though I’ll grant you--” his teeth flash, quick as a bear trap-- “boss doesn’t have much of that going for him either.”

It would undermine her point entirely to start arguing this one-- lord knows she doesn’t have a single horse in the race on how daddy Zen is anymore, if she ever did-- but her gut instinct is to hunker down on this hill and die on it. One she stifles successfully.

It’s not her job to staunchly defend Zen Wisteria anymore, and certainly not from Obi. And to be fair, out of any of them, she trusts Obi to have the most sense of...daddy, whatever that may be. Hopefully, he’ll never enlighten her.

“I didn’t take any of his money.” Every word tips stiffly from her tongue. “Nothing...personal. Only what was given to me as an employee.”

Beneath his shades, Obi softens. “I know that, Miss. I wasn’t trying to say...” He sighs, leather gloves flexing on the wheel. “That wasn’t my point.”

Her fingers ease where they splay over the pot. “Then what was?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His mouth twitches at a corner, and--

“Isn’t it about time to find a new one?”

“You know,” Obi hums, fumbling with the guest house keys. “You can’t ignore the question forever.”

She squints up at the sky-- it’s a pure blue here, not covered with the haze that settles over most of LA, the one way to tell they’re no longer in the city anymore-- and sniff, “I think you’ll find I can.”

“Come on, Miss.” With a bump of his hip, the door swings open, the bags dangling from his shoulder helping it complete its arc instead of clapping back on him. Because it’s not a thin little beach screen, made to shiver open at the slightest touch, but a solid, weighted thing, made to hold up against everything but an LAPD battering ram. And maybe even then.

Shirayuki spares it a concerned glance, nearly missing as Obi adds, “You need to secure your future.”

“I thought that was what I was doing,” she mutters, toeing off her tennis shoes by the door. “Or am I working for Izana for my health now?”

Obi clucks his tongue, unceremoniously dropping their bags in the hall. “Well sure, but you should be doing it the fun way.”

Her eyebrows climb up the short jaunt to her hairline. “Am I to take it that the ‘fun way’ is on my back?”

“Can’t think of many things that are more fun,” he laughs, like she should know, like at her age this is an experience they must be able to share. She pads down the hall after him, shoulder rounding over her cross arms. Clearly she’s had the opportunity. Six years in a relationship; anyone else would have, but--

“At least,” he continues, words scattering her thoughts like crows on a wire, “you should be able to live off being pretty.”

She coughs out a laugh. “I think you have to be a good deal prettier than me to manage that.”

He hesitates at the end of the hall, natural light limning his long limbs, making him seem taller, broader than he is. His head turns, just enough to catch her in one eye, and the look he rakes up her--

“Maybe in this town,” he rasps.

Her hands fall numb against the twill of her trousers, and she begs them to do something, anything but lay there boneless; to reach out the scant space between them--

But the moment’s gone, quick as it starts.

“Ooh, look at this,” Obi says with a whistle. “There’s a kitchen.”

“The apartment had a kitchen too, you know.”

Obi barely looks up from the drawer he’s inspecting, fussing with something that looks both like a corkscrew and a garlic press. “Yeah but this one’s bigger. It’s got double ovens.”

“We already had double ovens,” she deadpans. “There’s only two of us, we don’t need a kitchen the size of--”

“Ooh,” he sighs rapturously, “there’s a gas range and a cook top.”

“What?” She scurries over beside him, playing a hand on the cold metal. Opa would have killed for a set up like this. “Oh, now that can make a lot of pancakes.”

“And bacon,” he adds, giving it a solid tap. “And check out that view.”

His arm snakes around her shoulders, turning her. “Wha--?”

Oh. Oh.

“The beach,” she murmurs, watching the surf crash against the rocks, right at her feet. Or beneath her feet, from how the cliff is shaped. “It’s right down there.”

“I bet it’s private,” Obi murmurs, voice rumbling against her ear. “Except for paparazzi and their telephoto lenses, of course.”

She waves him away, like a horse does with flies. “Beaches are public property, and trying to restrict access is wrong on an ethical level, never mind that--”

“Right, but consider,” he hums, batting away her hands and her protests, “that you don’t have to share it with anyone else.”

Well, he does have a point there. “But public beaches always have the best snack stands.”

“We can just bring our own snacks.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You could have one of your weird little veggie boards down there because you can just carry it.”

“There’s nothing weird about enjoying vegetables.” Her elbow prods at his side; it’s solid beneath the cotton of his button-down, barely flinching even when she nudges him square in the oblique. “You just have the palate of a kindergartner.”

Obi presses a scandalized hand to his chest, silk tie rumpling askew beneath his palm. “Please, Miss, you wound me. I select my snacks with no personal regard for health or authority, which is fourth grade at least.”

She bats away his hands to slip her fingers around the knot, tugging it straight. “You’ll eat hummus.”

“Because it tastes good with pita chips. Now, Miss...” He casts a quick glance toward the second floor, mouth already twitching. “Do you think our rooms are adjoined?”

Shirayuki blinks, trying to imagine a purpose for it. The guest house itself was mystery enough-- after all, any business partner Izana wanted to impress would stay at a property of their own, or failing that a hotel, somewhere they could guarantee no Wisteria would be listening when they went to decompress from the day. And a personal guest of Izana--

Well, all his family lived within driving distance. And his friends were...few and local, if his soirees were any indication. “Why would they be?”

“For old time’s sake.” His smile’s all trouble as he saunters to the stairs. “Just like Tanbarun.”

“Hopefully not just.” Although Shirayuki can firmly say that having the breaks cut at Vitsjo was the worst experience she’s ever had with a millionaire, a double kidnapping ranks somewhere in the top ten.

She nearly says so; the quip is hanging at the end of her lips, poised to jump. But she glances up first, just in time to see every muscle in Obi’s body gone stiff, his jaw locked tight and his gaze a hundred miles away.

No. Five years. His body might be here with her, standing in a guest house the size of her childhood home, but his mind is back there, in a room that’s empty and a balcony door hanging on its hinges.

“Obi...” she breathes.

His body jerks, like someone’s yanked all his strings, and when he turns his smile hangs wrong from his mouth, never quite reaching his eyes.

“I hope the beds are those big fuck off kind,” he says, words hurtling from him joylessly. “That seems like His Majesty’s style. The kind that can fit five people and all their emotional baggage.”

His knuckles are white where they wrap around the wrought-iron banister, clenched so hard she’s sure black will flake off when he moves it. She takes a single, painful step toward him. “Obi...”

“Oh dear,” a voice hum, pleasant and smooth like suede. “I’m so sorry to disappoint.”

Haki Arleon-- no, Haki Wisteria now, leans in the doorway, smile just as radiant as when all her billboards. “But they’re only kings.”

(“So when are we going to meet the lady of the hour?” Obi asks, tie already loose around his neck. His waistcoat’s still neat, pressed so it clings to the narrow curve of his torso, but his jacket’s well on the way out the door. It hardly makes sense; that’s what he wears usually, easy as breathing, but with two drinks in him it hangs limp on his shoulder, just asking to slide off them. “This mystery Mrs Wisteria.”

“Future Mrs Wisteria,” Mitsuhide corrects, tugging at his cuffs. “And you’re not strictly supposed to know that. This is just Ms Haruto’s retirement party.”

“Right, and her retirement plan is grandkids,” Obi huffs, scanning the ballroom. “So where is she? I want Miss to start murmuring to me about Punnett.”

“I would never.” Shirayuki wobbles on her heels-- too tall, but Kiki said that anything less than three inches would be informal in this crowd-- relaxing when Obi’s hand grips her elbow. “Besides, Punnett squares only work for Mendelian traits. Once you get into eye color there’s at least eight known alleles involved--”

Obi’s hand slides to her back, hot even through the silk of her dress. His eyes are the same, that molten honey they melts to when he’s been frequenting the open bar and-- and maybe it’s about time she quits her cosmopolitans too, if she only feels steady holding onto the hem of his waistcoat. “Save the pillow talk for the bedroom, Miss.”

Her teeth snick shut. She can’t remember what she was about to say anyway.

“If you’re so interested in seeing her--” Zen jerks his chin over to the head table where Izana sits, Haruto radiant beside him, wearing an inoffensive smile-- “she’s already over there.”

Obi cranes his neck-- well, they all do, but he’s the least subtle about it, not even trying to cover his gawking. “It’s all just some old fogies your family does business with and-- no way.” His head swings back, eyes round as saucers. “Are you kidding me?”

Shirayuki squints, and the blonde head to his other side resolves into a pretty woman, her smile twice as bright and a hundred times more genuine. It’s her the men are flocking around tonight, but she hovers at Izana’s side, a hair’s breadth away from touching. “Oh, isn’t that the woman who was running the funding drives at Lilias? Ah, what was her name...?”

Gold eyes fix on her, no longer molten honey but hard flashes of coin. “Haki Arleon?”

Silly of her to forget; she shook her hand and everything. “Oh! Yes, that sounds right.”

Kiki shakes her head. “Only you, Shirayuki...”

“Wha--?”

“That’s Haki Arleon,” Zen tells her, as if Obi hadn’t said it already. “She’s--”

“The top of Maxim’s Hot 100,” Obi offers, followed by Mitsuhide’s stern, “Obi!”

Zen sighs. “She’s Hollywood royalty.”

“One of the most famous actresses of the last decade,” Kiki continues at her blank look. “She won an Oscar at sixteen...?”

“Oh.” She certainly looks magazine perfect now, every fold of her dress laying just right along the curves of her body, not a pinch of mascara out of place. “I don’t really watch movies.”)

That Haki Arleon is not the one that stands before her now. Though to be fair, she’s not the same Shirayuki Lyon she was then, either.

“You’re here.” America’s Sweetheart slumps across their spotless hardwood floor, flopping onto the sectional. “Finally. Save me.”

(”Is this where you ask me to sign an NDA?” The limo’s hardly pulled away from the curb, but Shirayuki’s temper is already boiling, rattling the top of the pot. “Do I need to sign an affidavit to say nothing happened between us? Should I send the Inquirer a note about how I no longer exist?”

Izana hums, his annoyance a dangerous buzz beneath his tongue. “There’s no need to be quite so melodramatic, doctor.”

“Isn’t there?” She rattles the tabloid in her hand, every word from her mouth so waspish it could sting. “This is your work, isn’t it? You’re the reason--”

He leans, one long-fingered hand plucking the paper out of her grasp. “There are reasons more innumerable than I can mention as to why the future folded out into this particular pattern, but if you are accusing me of holding the scissors to my brother’s apron strings in order to gt my way, I must gladly disappoint you.”

Her whole body aches from the rictus she holds it in. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that I did not ask you into this car to talk about my brother’s inability to properly navigate his love life,” Izana replies, sour, one leg crossing sulkily over the other. “I asked you here to offer you a proposition.”

She takes in one deep, steeling breath, then another. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not interested in any of your--”

“It is a professional proposition,” he informs her swiftly, nipping her complains in the bud. “I would like to hire you. For...in-house care.”

“Are you ill?” For how much rage had been rattling in her bones for the last half hour, it’s strange how quickly it evaporates in the face of her concern. “Does Zen know? No, is it your mother--?”

He raises a hand, quieting her. “No, not me, nor my mother, though I appreciate your concern. It’s...” Izana may have his reputation as a man who mountains find impassive, but for a moment she sees it, true fear flashing across his eyes. “...My wife.”)

There is no photoshop perfection as Shirayuki kneels in front of her, fingers pressed to the racing pace of her pulse. “Are you sleeping?”

“A little.” Haki squirms under her touch, her body angled as much away from her as she can manage. “Some. Barely.”

“But you’re tired?” She’s wan underneath her natural tan, the sort of stark white that says anemia. Already Shirayuki’s riffling through panels in her head, wishing she had a phlebotomy department at her fingertips. Then again, maybe she does; she’ll have to ask Izana just how much medical care will be magically available to her. “Have you been keeping anything down?”

“Hm...” She coughs, delicate. “Yes?”

Haki might win awards for her acting, but it will take a better liar than that to fool her by omission. “Have you been eating?”

America’s Sweetheart gives a very unphotogenic grimace.

“I had a yogurt.” Shirayuki sits back, waiting for the list, but it doesn’t come. Instead Haki just slips from her grip, palms pressing into the cushions as she strives for a casual lean. “And some of that tea you sent me. That stuff’s been great.”

“Oh, that’s just-- it’s ginger tea.” She sits back on the cassock, waving off her praise. “With some lemon and a few other things. Nothing special.”

“Miss is being too humble,” Obi rumbles from his corner, slinking out to perch on the sofa’s arm. “She stayed up all night making that stuff.”

“It’s important to get the proportions right,” Shirayuki informs him, prim. “Both for effectiveness, and preg-- er....”

Haki’s brows raise, and for a moment, she looks just like her cover on Vogue, arch and pleased. “Well, I see that cat’s out of the bag.”

“Ah...” She sheepishly rubbed at her cheek. “Izana did mention it...”

(”You understand nothing I tell you can leave this car, correct?” Even in his vulnerability, Izana is implacable; an unmovable edifice between her and his loved ones, as unnecessary as it is. “We had only just heard the heartbeat before this all started, and if word were to get out and we...she...”

For once, Izana Wisteria flounders, at a loss. “It’s rare for a fetus to fail after seven weeks,” she offers, biting back the actual number. Five percent only seems low to people already in the other percentile. “A miscarriage--”

“Can’t ever get out.” He huffs, agitated. “I am aware that you do not follow celebrity gossip avidly, but my wife...”

Shirayuki had always been under the impression this had been an arrangement, something forged from good business sense and perhaps a hint of mutual trust. They’d grown up together, after all-- at least that’s what Zen whispered in her ear at the wedding, watching them sweep across the floor. But now--

Now he falters again. “Every moment of her life has been for public consumption, even her grief. I won’t give them this.”

If it were anyone else, Shirayuki would lean forward. She’d put her hand over theirs, giving a comforting squeeze as she told them just what they needed to hear, the way they needed to hear it. It was her gift, after all, knowing how to tell both the best and worst of news.

But instead she looks at him, steel in her spine, and tells him, “You won’t have to.”)

“I take it the vomiting is still frequent, then?” Shirayuki takes in the dark circles around her eyes, the dull sheen of her skin. “Even though you’re not eating.”

She at least has the grace to look abashed, caught out like she is. “I am...it’s just better when I don’t.”

Her palms tap absently on her knees, fingers wishing they had a keyboard to key entries into while she thought. “We’ll have to go over your full medical history before I make any recommendations, but you need fluids-- plenty of them.”

“I drink--”

“No, I mean IVs,” Shirayuki clarifies with a shake of head. “We’ll have to call the hospital, see if--”

“No hospitals.” Haki stares back at her firmly, unmoving. “That’s how the tabloids find you.”

“Izana mentioned that too.” She sighs, rubbing at her forehead. “We don’t really like doing IVs out of the hospital without some support staff, but I might be able to get someone to come out...”

Haki waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry. Just ask for what you need, and Izana can get the hospital to make it happen.”

Oh, how she’d love to be a fly on Garrack’s wall for that conversation. “We’ll see. Until then, let’s just make sure you’re comfortable.”

Twelve hours later, Obi closes the sedan door after Haki, making sure the bucket is appropriately situated in her lap. “Comfortable, huh?”

She sighs. “It was a nice thought. You can get her to the hospital--?”

“Well.” His teeth flash white under the lamps. “I certainly know the way.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #seven swipes #seven suitors #modern au #ans #listen i still struggle with whether ENOUGH happened this chapter #and then i realize that like #if you did not already read seven suitors #OR you're you know...not me #there is a BUNCH of new info in here #this is the hardest thing about adapting this...i'm a much more proficient writer #so i know how to keep the story more active #but also i feel like i have to retread SO MUCH #but it actually stands just fine on its own #DEEP SIGH writer problems

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whitelionspirit · 4 years ago

Text

Pale Fire: Hard Days and Happy Birthdays 1/2

Paring: Ace x Reader

Series: Modern au of the life of Ace and the reader

Scenario: Even after a short few months there is still a lot you don’t know about your newly proclaimed best friend. Like why he doesn’t celebrate his birthday and why his friends and family are used to it.

wc: 1.7k

warning: angst, hurt/comfort, abusing alcohol, fluff

A/N: Hello! Sorry for the lack of updates but writer’s block hit sudden and hard. Anyway I wanted to get this out yesterday but here we are and now it’s in two parts because it became longer than I had intended. Hopefully by next week I’ll be all caught up and open the inbox again! I hope everyone had a good holiday and an even better start to the new year! I’m happy people have enjoyed my writing as well means a lot! Also this isn’t edit at the moment.

The end of the year was fast approaching with only days left it felt strange to you. The fact that your first semester of college was finally over. The past few months had been wild if you could pick a word to describe it. You never imagined you would have so many friends or just good memories in general. You had gotten lucky when being paired with Perona.

She was rather strange but you really would not have her any other way. It was because of her that you met Zoro which from there meant you would meet everyone else. The collection of them were all vastly different and it made you feel included somehow into their strange little family. Though it was your friendship with Ace that you didn’t expect.

He was loud, angry, and shameless among other things you could rattle off. For some reason he had quickly taken a liking to you and it was all over after that. He had this way of coaxing you to come out of your shell and express yourself in ways you had never done before. He stunned everyone when he declared you were now his which didn’t settle well with any of the girls plus Sanji. Perhaps it was the five year age gap that threw most people off but it didn’t bother you that in the way most presumed it did.

The reason he had plagued your mind a lot recently was because his birthday was two days away. While you were excited about getting your new friend gifts and a supposed party to happen. You found out that their wouldn’t be a celebration, nothing at all. Ace hated his birthday which made you quite disappointed.

You didn’t push the subject when Sabo gave you the bad news. He had smiled sadly at you as he patted your head and moved on with his day. If no one wanted to speak of why then you wouldn’t push it. Ace would tell you if you asked you know he would but you didn’t want to pry it seemed to be a rather sore subject for everyone.

So you went about your week as you usually would which was more so spent at the three brothers apartment. You were currently splayed out on the couch with Luffy, Chopper, and Vivi laying on top of one another. It was a comfortable squeeze with Chopper’s head tucked into your lap and Vivi’s thigh bumping against your own as Luffy splayed out over her entire lap as she played with his hair. The only light coming from the flashing tv and that of the Christmas tree still up in the corner of the room.

It was a nice feeling to be surrounded by friends in a place you considered homey. The sudden buzzing of your phone dragged you out of your thoughts. Pulling the device from your sweatpants pocket you saw the familiar name lighting up the Home Screen.

Firefly

As he had so happily put into your contacts months ago. You smiled as you slide your finger across the text opening the phone.

“Work is so boring today, tell me something interesting.”

You roll your eyes at his response Ace worked a rather fascinating job in your opinion at least. Though he says his previous job had been cooler before the accident. You texted him back before closing the phone.

“You should really pay attention to your job but if you really want something good. Luffy choked on a piece of food today and Vivi had to give him the hemilich maneuver. It was a real sight I have all on video.”

You sent the text and closed your phone again only for it to vibrate. The message highlighted with a laughing emoji making you smile as you place the phone on your lap. Closing your eyes as you listen to the background noise of the tv.

You were awoken by the sensation of someone putting a blanket over you blinking your eyes open sleepily. The blurry image above you stopped before continuing and backing away as you drifted back off to sleep cuddling close down into the soft material. The sounds of chatting is what finally woke you up this time around.

They were soft almost trying not to wake up or anyone else who was still asleep. The room was dark when your eyes opened, the only light coming from that of the kitchen and even that was dimmed. You could barely make out the voices but there was definitely more than one. Pulling your arm upward you realize that it had actually been covered by a blanket. Your brows furrowed at how it got there, as your hand finally landed on your phone. The screen lit up showing the time it was half past 9 p.m. making you groan.

You had missed dinner, the sudden grumbling of your stomach reminding you of it’s emptiness. “Thanks, stomach.” You mumbled as you looked around you to still see everyone was still asleep. Chopper had moved over so he wasn’t on top of you, but Vivi and Luffy were now cuddling up one another in their sleep. The sight made you smile as Luffy’s soft snores were let out against Vivi’s neck. The voices broke through your train of thought again as a sharp “No” was admitted.

Curious but not wanting to be nosy you carefully untangled yourself from the pile. You walked towards the kitchen quietly as the voices became more distinct. The soft tremor of Ace’s voice was heard as he hissed at the slightly higher one of Sabo. Were they fighting? You thought which would be odd because they almost never fought unless it was over something serious. Over the few months you had known them you had only seen it twice. So whatever they were disagreeing on must be rather important or personal perhaps.

“You such an idiot you know that right?” Sabo said.

Peeking around the corner you could barely make out their appearances through the doorway which was blocked by the door being half way closed.

“It’s nothin’ I’m an dult I can do wha- I wannnt.” Ace said his words sounding muffled.

You frowned as Sabo sighed making you wonder if Ace was actually drunk and Sabo was trying to hide it.

A sound of shuffling could be heard as someone started walking. “Ace, come on you’ve had enough of tha-.” Sabo words were cut off as the shattering of glass echoed through the otherwise quiet house. The noise alone startled you momentarily before you decided to make your presence known.

You pushed the door open into the kitchen and the sight that greeted you was rather amusing. Sabo was hitting Ace upside the head while the freckled man pouted. He was gazing down at the red liquid splashed across the title flooring.

Sabo looked up at you and sighed. “(Name) could you hand me the mop and broom it’s in the closet across the hallway”. He pointed behind back the way you had come.

“Ugh, yeah sure are you guys alright?” You questioned.

Sabo just nodded not really akwoldging you as he hauled Ace by the sleeve of his shirt and put him into a seat at the breakfast bar.

You walked to the closet and opened the door it was dark inside but you didn’t need to see where the objects were. Grabbing them you closed the door and headed back into the kitchen where Sabo was staring at Ace in frustration.

You looked over at him he was leaned over the counter his forehead laying against the wooden surface.

“Here.”

Sabo sighed and reached out for them as you placed them in his grasp.

“Is he alright?” You asked unsure.

“He will be but it really isn’t anything new he is like this every year.” He said as he began sweeping up the glass.

You bit your lip as you stood there wondering what you should do. You wanted to be helpful but it seemed like a private matter that Sabo could easily take care off.

“If you want you can put him in his bed,” Sabo spoke without looking at you as he dumped the glass into the trash bin.

You looked at him and blinked as if you weren’t expecting him to answer your worries. Walking forward you stood next to the man who was groaning softly into his chest. Gently placing your hand on his shoulder to not startle him you also opened you mouth to talk.

“Ace.”

He groaned again as if acknowledging you.

“Come on let’s get you to bed, alright?” You said as he got up without a fuss.

....

Once inside his room you guided him slowly to the bed as all his dead weight was laid on top of you. It was extremely uncomfortable but you bared it as you mostly threw him onto the twin size bed. He landed awkwardly on his face as the mattress squeaked under the pressure. You sighed at the sad sight as you picked up his feet and hauled him into the bed. You weren’t going to baby him or be gentle.

Ace mumbled from where his face was planted in the maroon sheets. You rolled your eyes and shoved at his shoulder hard enough to move him slightly to were yup could hear him speak.

“I’m fine (Name) you can just go.” He said with no heat behind it.

You huffed and crossed your arms in annoyance at his statement.

“I’m not going until you get into bed Ace.”

The man just sighed as heaved himself upward and began shimmering his way out of his work pants. His button down followed surely until he left in a a plain undershirt and his boxers. The sight alone made your cheeks redden as you quickly hid your face into your hands.

“Well, are you happy?” He asked as he pulled his comforter around his body.

“Y-yes! I’ll be going now, I'll see you tomorrow!” You said your voice went a pitch higher as you left the room shutting the door behind you.

As soon as you left the room you groaned as you leaned your head back against his door. Well that just happened even though nothing actually occurred just him taking off his clothes to sleep. Patting your flaming cheeks to come yourself you stepped away from the door. Only to hesitate as you looked at the door as concern took over. As you ponder about what exactly could have him so uneasy and so unlike the man you knew.

#one piece #portgas d. ace x reader #op imagine #one piece imagine #pale fire series #one piece x reader

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clarosowrites · 4 years ago

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Mistletoe (Adam x f!Detective)

Adam stood at parade rest against the wall, dispassionately watching the other attendees of the Wayhaven Holliday Party. Most of the town was here, mingling in the festively decorated Mayor's mansion. A jazz band played Christmas music in the next room.

He had thankfully avoided any sparkles in the outfit tonight. His simple red button down and black suit was extravagant enough for him, though Felix disagreed, trying to force him to wear a sequined tie. He easily spotted the youngest member of the team in his glittering silver suit. He was kneeling next to one of Mr. Verde's children, smiling as she showed him her dredile.

With any luck, that would keep him busy the rest of the night.

Mason was...somewhere. Probably skirting the edges of the party, like him, or drinking. And he knew Nate planned to make rounds with Agent McClaran, socializing with the citizens.

Their handler claimed being at the party would help their reputation, which was apparently less than stellar. Adam thought it was pointless. Unit Bravo had been in Wayhaven for over a year, the town's opinion of them was likely set by now. It didn't matter anyway--they didn't need anyone's approval to protect the town.

Suddenly, the sound of a single heartbeat reached his ears.

His shoulders dropped. Even through the music and the noise of the crowd, he'd recognize her.

Adam fought back a smile as warmth flooded his chest. It had only been a week since they saw each other last, but he'd felt the Detective's absence acutely. A week was nothing, a blink of the eye to him usually. Yet, in the two months he and Catherine had started courting--he refused to call it such an insignificant term like dating--time had stretched in odd ways. A day with her seemed like barely five minutes. Every day apart was spent waiting for the next.

He turned to the entrance. His fingers tapped a nervous staccato against his arm as he scanned the crowd for her.

The mass of people parted and revealed Catherine like clouds parting for the sun.

Red fabric hugged her figure. The dress dipped low in the front, flowed past her hips and flared around her knees. She seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, her already statuesque figure even more noticeable in red. Her hair curled around her face, soft and loose in a way that made his fingers itch to touch--

He cleared his throat as she approached. "Detective."

Her smile was strained as she slipped her hand into his. This close, he realized she wore heels--she stood several inches taller than him and he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes.

"I'm never letting Tina dress me, ever again." She hissed through clenched teeth. Her lips were painted red to match the dress. "I look like a big red elephant."

"That's absurd." He said and pulled her a step closer.

Catherine ducked her head, turning away from the crowd. She pulled at the dress's neckline. The material was practically molded to her skin, though, and she gave up with a frustrated huff.

"Adam, this dress is way too revealing for a work party!" She gestured up and down her body. "And I shouldn't have to wear heels!"

It was less modest than her usual outfits, true, the Detective preferred turtlenecks and long sleeved shirts most days, but he'd seen several women tonight with more skin on display.

She always looked perfect, even in her messy workout clothes. But he was biased. Besides, he'd asked if she looked appropriate, not his personal feelings on her appearance.

"You look..." He swallowed down the breathtaking and stunning that strained at his throat, "nice. And the height is appealing."

"Really?" She picked again at the dress.

He took her other hand to stop her fussing and smiled. "Are you calling me a liar, Detective?"

"No." Catherine admitted. She pursed her lips. "You're sure I look okay?"

Far better than okay, he thought. "I promise. It's appropriate for the occasion."

"Just what every girl wants to hear." She said sarcastically, the tension easing from her.

"I apologize." He squeezed her hands and smiled up at her. "I'm out of practice in giving compliments."

"Lucky for you, I'm not used to receiving any." She grinned. "I think we'll get along just fine."

A sharp whistle grabbed his attention. He turned to see Tina, grinning next to Felix in a sequined gold dress and pointing above their heads.

...where a tiny spring of mistletoe hung.

Adam's mouth went dry. For everything they had shared, confessions and open souls and lazy afternoons, they had yet to go any farther physically. She would press her lips to his cheek as a goodbye, occasionally, or to his hand as she held it, but they hadn't kissed. Actually kissed.

"Come on, Adam, plant one on her!" Felix called.

He snapped his head around to glare at him, trying to ignore the warmth flooding his cheeks.

Cat sighed. He stiffened as she place a hand on his shoulder and dipped her head to brush her lips across his cheek. The touch burned like it always did, like hot wax pressed onto his skin. His breath caught in his throat.

She walked towards Tina without glancing at him. "Happy?" She asked.

He didn't hear her response as they moved away, focused on his evening out his breathing. He did, however hear Felix's laugh.

"What." He snapped at the younger vampire.

Felix grinned even wider. "You look like you just face down a stake to the ribs instead of kissing the girl you like."

"She is not--"

"What?" He arched an eyebrow. "A girl? Who you like?"

"You make it sound so juvenile." He scoffed.

"It is juvenile if you act like your girlfriend has cooties." He gestured to the Detective's retreating figure. "Do you even want to kiss her?"

"We are taking this slow." He grit out.

"There's slow and there's glacial, Adam."

Nate appeared at Felix's side with a smile. "I think Mason's going to spike the punch. Felix, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Sure, boss man!" He saluted.

Adam sighed as they watched him wander off into the crowd.

"You realize Felix is only going to encourage him."

"Yep. I thought I'd rescue you, actually."

"And not interrogate me about my love life at all, correct?"

"At least you're admitting it exists! Finally!" He laughed. Adam couldn't help but grin.

Over his short relationship with Catherine, Nate had been his sounding board for practically everything. Planning dates, dissecting conversations--anything at all that involved Cat--Adam had applied himself with a military precision and Nate had helped. No matter how ridiculous his request, he'd helped

Nate nudged him with an elbow. "Really, though. You couldn't ask for a better set up than mistletoe on New Year's Eve. Why the hesitation?"

"Besides having a crowd?" He asked. "I need more time to plan it."

"Whenever you get around to it, its not going to be perfect."

"Perfect is what she deserves." Adam said defensively.

He shook his head and laughed. "I think you're just scared."

"Scared."

Creatures more ferocious than Nathaniel Sewell have cowered under the glare that Adam gave him. Nate just smiled.

"Yeah. Chicken?"

"Are you daring me to kiss the Detective?" He asked incredulously.

"It is working?" He grinned and clapped him on the back. "Carpe diem, old friend. No time like the present."

Adam cursed under his breath as his best friend walked away. He was right. He was scared, more scared since he met Catherine than he'd been in the past 900 years. Scared of himself and terrified of the uncertainty that haunted every interaction.

But when did that stop him from doing anything?

"Damn it."

After a military acquisition of a certain decoration and ten minutes of searching, he managed to find the Detective in the kitchen, away from the rest of the party.

"Catherine?"

She looked up at her name and smiled. "Hey Adam."

She perched on the granite counter, swinging her bare feet under her. She fanned herself with an old magazine.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Those heels are killing me." She nodded to the black shoes on the floor. "And...there's a lot of booze in there."

"Ah." He frowned. "I cannot assist with that."

She shrugged, pushing her hair back and off her shoulders. "Its okay."

He took a steadying breathe and forced himself across the kitchen. Standing in front of her, he saw the uncertain tilt of her head and the way she unconsciously leaned into him.

"Catherine." He said again.

"Adam." She grinned. "What's going on?"

He cleared his throat, his mind suddenly blank. His fist clenched around the greenery he held.

"What's that?" She brought his hand up and he opened it, revealing the mistletoe.

Confusion flashed across her face. It transformed to delight and amusement as he slowly lifted it above their heads. He took the final step to close the gap between them, her knees pressing into his thighs.

She smiled, and god, he could loose himself in that smile, adoring and open and everything he doesn't deserve. And then she slid one hand up his chest, the other curling around the back of his neck, his skin burning underneath her touch, even through his clothes. His eyes fell shut--blocking out everything else but the feel of her hands.

At the first brush of her lips on his, Adam shuddered. At the second, he leaned into her, the mistletoe falling from his hand so he could cup her jaw. Fuck--if he thought her touch before was burning, then this was a brand. Her kiss seared into his lips and he wanted it to, for her to leave her mark on his skin that matched the one on the inside of his chest and--

She pulled away. He moaned at her absence, some small, broken thing that he couldn't bring himself to care about.

He chased her mouth, only halted by the hand pushing on his shoulder, a silent stop.

"We..." She said unsteadily, and he opened his eyes just to see her wet her lips and swallow. "We should..."

He nodded. "Get back to the party." It would be less than impressive if someone found the Detective in a compromising position, as much as he wanted to create one.

He dared to press for one more kiss, firm and swift, before lifting her from the counter. As he set her on her bare feet, she looked dazed.

"Right." Cat straightened her dress and slipped into her shoes. "Do I look okay?"

"You're beautiful." He said. "I should have said that earlier. Stunning."

"You big flirt." She accused, smiling broadly.

Her fingers curled around his collar. "I only have to stay for another hour or so. Maybe we could...go back to my apartment and hang out."

"I would like that." He murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Okay." She stepped back. "Stay out of trouble until then."

"I will." He promised, dropping her hand reluctantly.

"Bye."

With a final wave, she slipped out of the kitchen and out of his sight. He leaned against the counter and sighed happily. He could rejoin the party in a few moments--for now, Adam closed his eyes and let himself follow her heartbeat.

#Detective Catherine McClaran #Adam du Mortain #A du Mortain #A #A romance #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #Adam x Detective #Adam du mortain x detective #female detective #twc fic

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 187

187

Waking up definitely rivalled bed time. Lance had officially decided so. Crawling out of bed and into the cold morning air, everything was made better by being able to crawl back into bed where Keith automatically curled around him, not quite awake and not quite asleep. Sleepy kisses and roaming hands turned into slow sex with plenty of snuggling and kisses from Keith. Keith might be upset about his urges, but Lance’s ego seemed to love the extra attention, the smile on his lips still there after he’d fallen asleep as Keith cleaned him up.

With everyone else having work, they’d woken to an empty house. Lance kind of sad he didn’t get to talk to Curtis more. They’d messaged a fair bit, Curtis wasn’t really adjusting very well to the demon being gone. His body still suffering the effects of the lingering magic. He’d wanted to offer Curtis to come stay for a bit, but didn’t want to put added pressure on Keith, or on Shiro who only wanted the best for his brother, and for his boyfriend. Feeling lazy, Lance made them both scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast. He skipped all kitchen etiquette by sitting on the dining table while he ate, just because he wanted to be as close to Keith as possible. He didn’t know if this whole pampering thing had already started, but Keith had given him one hell of a head massage as they’d showered.

Going through the motions of “civilised adults”, the dishes were done and put away before Lance was tugging Keith into the living area, well, technically he sent Keith in ahead of him so he could pee. Bring back a bag blood, the vampire settled himself down next to his boyfriend, Keith yawning as he nosed into Lance’s arm

“You still sleepy, babe?”

“A bit. I didn’t sleep much last night”

Whereas Lance had passed out at the first available opportunity

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“I was thinking about what you said. I know it’s probably rushing, but do you want to go see dad early?”

Lance blinked. He’d assumed those plans were on hold until both Keith and Curtis felt better. It was better not to point that out. Lance knew how bad fussing and love could make you feel even when it came from a place of love. He’d done the exact same thing to Keith without thinking about it

“I’m not saying no, but I didn’t expect that first thing in the morning”

Keith sighed deeply. Kosmo took it as a sign to abandon his bed and come join them on the couch. Their fur son trying his hardest to squeeze himself up in the gap between the couch cushions and Keith’s legs

“It’s okay if you don’t want to”

Crap. He knew how important this was, and how hard it was for Keith to talk about

“That’s not it”

“You think I’m rushing things”

“Maybe a little, but I want to understand. If you’re ready to go, we’ll go. I would never say no to seeing you dad”

Keith yawned a weird kind of yawned sigh with a shake of his head

“I was thinking last night that maybe... um... we could... um... spend a few days away from everyone for a bit”

Away from the others meant that Keith wouldn’t feel so self conscious over his ego’s desires. It was hard due to the fact Lance felt Keith needed to keep socialising and not become a social outcast like he had... but at the same time, dealing with a new ego was so damn hard that he knew how much extra stress the love of their friends was placing on Keith’s shoulders.

Threading his fingers through Keith’s hair, Keith nudged into touch. He’d noticed that last night too. Massaging his boyfriend’s scalp, Keith really did seem into it, like a giant human Kosmo wanting more pats

“How about a compromise?”

Keith hummed as if he’d forgotten they were having an important conversation, Lance could only mentally shake his head. Being an adult was hard, pats seemed much nicer. Now he wanted belly rubs...

“If we suddenly leave, then everyone’s going to worry. Shiro is meant to be coming with us, and Curtis really seems like he needs some time away from Platt. I wish he’d stayed long enough to talk to properly. There’s also the distance and the moon to think about, as well as accomodation. So we can’t just drop everything and leave. Why don’t we call Coran? We can organise it in line with Shiro’s next day off, and have like... a day or three to ourselves before meeting with him and Curtis”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Keith shifted onto his back to rest himself along Lance’s side

“That makes sense”

“We also have to make sure that I’m okay to travel”

The internet was a scary place. Twins tended to come before the 40 week mark, and at 30 weeks he could very well “pop” far too soon. The nursery wasn’t done. He hadn’t packed a go bag. He had no back up plan for the chance he went into labour and couldn’t get to Coran. Keith took too priority in his worries, but now Keith wanted to suddenly go, he felt overwhelmed by everything. Trying to reach his cheek, Keith nearly poked him up the nose

“What is it? You’re getting teary again. If you don’t want to go, you can tell me”

Taking Keith’s hand, Lance lowered his lovers arm to loop it back into a hug around Keith’s middle

“I just thought about everything left to do and panicked. It doesn’t matter”

“It matters to me. If we can’t go now, I get it”

Keith sounded resigned. Almost as if he thought Lance wanted an easy out

“I’m not trying to say no. I’m not prepared. The nursery isn’t ready. I don’t have anything packed for when I’m in labour. I don’t have a back up plan in the off chance we can’t get to Coran in time. Twins tend to come before 40 weeks and it’s bad enough that the slightest laugh has me peeing slightly. Then there’s my boobs that keep leaking. I’m not saying no. I’m just having a freak out and now I sound like I’m dismissing how huge this is for you. I want to go. I just want to pack and organise, then go”

Keith sat up, his werewolf speed was no joke. Taking his hand, his boyfriend sighed deeply

“I should have thought about what this would do to you”

What was that supposed to mean?! What was “this” doing to him? He couldn’t simply pack up leave at the drop of a hat. He had adult things and responsibilities. That wasn’t to say he didn’t want, he just didn’t want to get caught in a situation where they weren’t prepared

“What’s wrong with being prepared?!”

“No. I’m not saying that...”

“Then what are you saying!?”

“Just that... I don’t know... That maybe you think I shouldn’t be going out”

Lance wanted to hit Keith. Out of the two of them, Keith’s ego was less likely to cause a drama. Though new, Keith wasn’t the one who was actually pregnant. Nor did he crave blood. Keith could pass as a normal human, where Lance really couldn’t at the moment

“That’s not it at all. I don’t want to give birth without being prepared. It’s freaking me out now. I want to go see your dad, but even if we’re adults we still have to let people know what’s going on, and I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s not about not wanting to go, I want nothing more than to be alone with you. I just want to make sure everything is organised before we go. Like, I have to make sure I have enough blood and that. That’s it”

“I feel like a shit mate. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...”

Squeezing Keith’s hand, Lance shook his head

“Babe, no. You need to know you can totally tell me everything. I’m sorry I can’t drop everything. And I’m sorry I’m so worked up about this. I know it isn’t fair to take my nerves out on you”

“You’re not. You’re being realistic”

“Being realistic is overrated”

“Yeah. But you’re right. I know how much you wanted to finish the nursery”

A lot. A lot more than a lot. The boxes felt as if they were mocking him by being unopened. His mind now deciding that they were mocking him more so than ever. The plan had been pampering, but would Keith accept that right now he needed the nursery done more than he needed to be showered with affection?

“I know you said to do it without, but I couldn’t. I may be being selfish, but... can we work on that today?”

Asking Keith for a favour after denying his, that wasn’t a great feeling. He really did want to spend some time pampering Keith, yet he wanted the nursery done too. Lance understood why Keith frowned at him, Lance feeling the need to continue

“Just for a bit. Then we’ll have lunch, and I’ll show you how to do face masks and play with your hair. I’ll show you how to pamper yourself properly”

“I thought today was about relaxing”

“Putting a nursery together can’t be that hard when we have most things...”

“The wall isn’t fixed...”

Keith didn’t want to. How were they supposed to bring their twins home to an unfinished house? Spending time putting the nursery together sounded like something that’d bring them closer. Removing his hand from Keith’s, Lance wiped at his eyes

“Forget it. You don’t want. That’s okay”

“That’s not... I mean...”

“I’m overthinking things. I’m obviously not going to go into labour while we’re away. We’re going to have time after. I guess it’s waited this long what’s a few more weeks”

“Babe...”

Lance felt like he was having a temper tantrum for not getting his own way, instead of simply feeling internally crushed

“No. I don’t want to fight. I thought we could have both, but it’s alright. I’ll call Coran and organise to bump up my next scan. Why don’t you call Shiro and find out when his next day off is?”

“Babe...”

“I’ll have to let Matt and Rieva know. I think I should still pack a bag. I might ask Coran what I should pack”

“Babe!”

Lance flinched. He’d been babbling. Now Keith sounded cranky

“Sorry. I know. I’m talking too much”

Keith groaned at him

“That’s. I’m... I thought you wanted to do the wall. If we do that first then we won’t get dust on things, but we need to go shopping and I don’t think I’m up for shopping”

Right. How stupid could he be? Everything was safer packed away where it wouldn’t get gyprock dust on it. Pidge wouldn’t be able to fit a new panel in her car. Hunk could borrow his father’s ute, but that meant interrupting their day alone. Still, a whole day of pampering sounded like work. It was better to active, then self reward with pampering

“You’re right. I guess I’m no good at sitting still. I want to get it all organised. I really am scared that I’ll go into labour before my due date”

Lance had no idea what to do if that happened. Babies weren’t coming out the same way they went in, meaning Keith would have to tear him open, which would be way too traumatic for the both of them

“Should we do that? Pack your go bag?”

“I don’t know. This feels weird. We’ve been alone day after day, and now it’s as if I’m noticing it again”

They’d had all this time, and now they wanted to treat each other neither of them knew what to do. Groaning at him, Keith flopped back onto Kosmo

“I feel like we’re being stupid. No one’s here but we can’t decide what to do”

“I did really think about the fact we’ve been alone for days”

“You’ve mostly been sleeping”

Lance groaned. A nap sounded amazing. A back to back nap sounded even better

“Don’t remind me. I could totally go for a nap right now”

“You need blood. All this sleeping can’t be good”

“I’m fine”

“Babe, you promised last night that you’d try drinking”

Ugh. Him and his big mouth

“I know. It’s just a bit... weird”

Keith rolled his eyes at him

“You’re a vampire. You drink blood. It’s kind of your whole thing. Where do you want to drink from?”

Keith was blasé about it. Then again, he didn’t quite have to be as careful as before. As soon as he thought that, he felt sick to his stomach. Keith was still as precious to him as ever. He shouldn’t be relieved about having to drink from him

“Neck or wrist? Which is better?”

He didn’t want either, yet couldn’t get out of it. Not drinking would only stress Keith out. He had to hope his body would kill the curse in Keith’s blood. With a deep sigh, Lance reached for Keith’s arm

“I hate this”

“You need to drink”

“I still hate this”

“Just do it already”

“Don’t watch... it’s weird”

Lance hated the way Keith’s skin felt sliding up his teeth. His boyfriend’s blood filling his mouth as he forced down deep gulps. Keith tasted... bad. Not terrible, but not the way he had. Kind of like... steak. No... gamier... Rabbit. Keith tasted like rabbit. Feeling that he’d taken enough to satisfy Keith’s need to feed him, Lance pulled his fangs out slowly, before lapping over the two puncture marks that were already healing. Feeding from Keith felt weird, kind of like chugging down blood flavoured sherbet. All thingy, but not so bad as to tell Keith his blood was gross and nasty like the first time he’d drunk it. Anything without mercury was a huge step up

“Are you okay?”

Lance hoped he hadn’t drank too much. He tried to take a little bit more than his usual two or three mouthfuls for the sake of his boyfriend

“Is it weird that felt kind of hot?”

Not what he was expecting

“Uh. A little. I did just drink your blood”

“You looked really into it. If you need more...”

“Nope. No. Noooo. I’m good. And you weren’t supposed to look”

“I couldn’t help it. Do you feel any better?”

“It’s got to get into my system first. You know, that took all of a minute. What are going to do for the rest of the day?”

Keith raised his arm to examine his wrist. All that remained was two tiny scars from Lance’s teeth

“I thought you wanted to nap”

“I doooo. But that’s not what you want to do”

“I don’t know... I mean, I thought I’d pamper you, but you’re thinking about the nursery. Do you want to look online? You wanted to get a chair and a rug”

Lance was kind of shocked Keith remembered

“I suppose... I think my laptop’s in the office”

“I’ll get it. Do you need anything while I’m up?”

Keith seemed a tad too enthused to be running off to do something for him... It threw Lance off

“Only to pee... and probably throw this blood bag in the bin”

“On it. Meet you back here?”

Lance drew his brow, giving a small shake of the head to shake himself out the weird feeling of the conversation

“Sounds like a plan”

Keith was jealous of Lance’s laptop. For a day of pampering, he’d been displaced by a dumb piece of technology. He wanted Lance to keep touching him. Sitting on the sofa with his back against Lance’s side, Keith wriggled down a little, nudging at Lance’s arm “covertly” with the hope of attention. Today was meant to be about pampering. Not a near panic fit over things not being ready for the birth of their twins, or Lance being too responsible by stating the obvious over their trip. He wanted pats. Whatever Lance was doing couldn’t possibly be taking this long. He thought they were picking out the last of the nursery furniture, then there’d be cuddles. Nudging Lance’s arm again, Keith threw in an added sigh. Kosmo had taught him well and though he’d acted in similar ways in the past, he really really wanted head pats which was really really confusing for him.

Keith actions weren’t met with a chuckle of affection, or a playful shoulder bump. Instead Lance started swearing, Keith sitting upright in alarm, feeling the target of his boyfriend’s outburst. He’d noticed he’d been a bad influence on Lance, his love had definitely started swearing more since they’d got together

“Oh. Fuck... No. Fuck. Fuck nooooo. Fuck...”

“Babe?”

With big blue eyes Lance gestured to the screen, the groan that fell from his lips was soul deep

“I... fuck... I meant to email my sister and I fucking added her on chat... I mean, I thought it was a bit weird but... ugh. This is why I hate technology... What do I do?”

Keith had no idea. He didn’t talk technology. He didn’t even know what Lance had done

“What did you send her?”

“An empty message! I’ve been meaning to email her and I’ve been avoiding it and... and... oh god... what if she replies?!”

An empty message wasn’t terrible...

“Well... maybe you could send her a message explaining? This is Veronica, isn’t it?”

Lance fixed him a scathing glare that Keith’s ego did not appreciate. Lance’s tiny little slip up was hardly his fault. If Lance was playing with his hair, none of this would have happened

“Keith I sent her a message on my personal chat account. She’s gonna have the address... she’ll want to talk to me...”

“If that’s the problem, why don’t you block her?”

Lance groaned miserably

“I can’t block her... She’s still technically my sister... shit... what do I do?”

“Message her? Look, pass it here, I’ll do it”

As Keith went for the laptop, Lance went to block him, which Keith ignored and led to hands everywhere. The next thing the pair of them knew, the chat was ringing, the action box reading “Calling Vee...”. Acting out of impulse, Keith snapped the lid closed on Lance’s laptop, device thrown across the room in a panic. As Keith realised what he’d done, he stared at Lance, both of them blinking at all that had happened in the last moment a half

“Babe. You just threw my laptop”

Oh lord. Someone please shoot him. So alarmed at the thought Lance was about to snap at him, Keith sat stock still. Hand still raised from the throw

“Yep”

“You threw my laptop”

“It was ringing”

Lance groaned at him, slumping back against the cushions

“I suppose that’s one to avoid her. Now I’m going to have to call Pidge”

Why? If Lance didn’t have his laptop, that was one less thing to take his attention away from him... Wait. He should be feeling bad, not kind of happy that Lance’s hands were now free. Lowering his hands, he sighed more to himself than at Lance

“I panicked”

“I noticed. God. This is supposed to be a day of relaxation. We’re terrible at it”

Keith’s ego didn’t like that. He really wanted attention, and to lavish attention on Lance, now he’d made things awkward. As if sensing that, Lance reached out to ruffle his hair

“Don’t look like that. It’s just a laptop. Pidge can fix it and show me how to send those photos to Vee”

“Was I making a face?”

“Yeah. Well, more like you were trying to. Come here, I’m not mad”

Keith let himself sink into Lance’s hold, guilt starting to grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d messed up and now he was being rewarded because Lance didn’t know he was happy the laptop was out the way. Letting his fingers tangle in his hair, Keith could have purred at the feeling... if he was a cat. Not a big manly werewolf... He’d told Lance to chose the furniture... and then taken that choice from him

“Stop thinking”

“How do you know I am?”

“Because you went tense. If there’s something you want to say, then tell me. I won’t be mad”

That was easy for Lance to say. Actually, it probably wasn’t. He’d messaged Veronica and now had to deal with that

“I... just... I don’t know why, but I got jealous. I swear I acted out of panic by throwing it, but I wanted you attention”

Keith sounded pathetic. He knew he sounded pathetic. He didn’t think he’d get a laugh out of Lance

“It’s not funny”

“It kind of is, babe. I mean, like, we have the whole house to ourselves and neither of us know what to do. Face masks don’t take that long, and I’ve been up and down so often at night that it feels like the only time I get some real sleep is during the day. Now I’m awake and I don’t know what to do”

Lance was the one who was supposed to be guiding him here

“I don’t know what to do either... I don’t know anything about face masks. What do you normally do?”

“Movies, hair, face masks, and popcorn. And wine, oh, babe, you have no idea how much I miss wine”

Lance had done really well on that front. Keith might not drink as much had in the past, yet he still liked having the option

“You’re doing plenty of whining right... ow!”

Lance bopped him lightly on the head before he could continue his joke

“Don’t be rude. I’m old. Let me have my vices”

“You’re not even that old”

“Says my sexy younger lover”

Keith growled lightly. He didn’t want to think about that. Those 18 years were 18 years he wished he could have had with Lance as it was

“Says your mate. Show me how to do this right. I tell you one thing then I go and mess up. I don’t want to keep messing this up”

Lance bopped him on the head again. Keith finding it annoying rather than teasing. Scowling at his boyfriend, the scowl melted as Lance started playing with his hair again

“Oh, babe. It seems like I’ve discovered your weakness. My werewolf really is a sook, aren’t you?”

He was not a sook. Lance was just very skilled with those hands of his

“Fuck you, it feels good”

“Alright. Sit down on the floor for me”

“What? Why?”

Was he in trouble? He didn’t think he was in trouble... though he had kind of messed Lance around yet again

“Because I’m going to do your hair, then you’re going to take me up to our bed, and massage me after I pack my go bag. We can’t lay here all day going back and forth”

“Technically we could. Or at least... um... until Matt and Rieva come home”

Lance bopped him for a third time. He was going to have to revoke his boyfriend’s bopping privileges. With a sigh, he found himself being pushed off Lance, his ego wanted him to cling to his mate, but Lance was firm with him

“Babe, I know. Okay, I get it. I shot down leaving then asked for a favour of my own. It’s too hard to furniture shop on my phone, and the chair is really important to me so let me have this. I want to get at least one thing done. You ego wants affection, mine wants this organised”

“Okay. I still feel like I’m doing this wrong”

“Oh, you are, but I’m used to it”

“Thanks. That makes me... um... feel shitty”

“You’re not shitty, but you are hopeless”

Keith honestly didn’t know what was worse. Where was his wolf bravado that had wanted to do so good for Lance the day before? Had they not been alone, he probably would have stormed out in a huff with himself. This was Lance. The love of his life. Why couldn’t he seem to get his head on straight?! It seemed his heart had finally got its act together, and now his brain had decided to take its place when it came to being ridiculous. Sitting on the floor, he decided he was going to keep his mouth shut and do what Lance wanted him to do, not only because he was clueless, but Lance was hot when he took charge.

#oncebittentwicestupid #once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose

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eeveevie · 5 years ago

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dirty wastelander phrasebook

Madelyn and Deacon find themselves in quite the predicament after being captured by Gunners and must rely on an old Railroad secret Deacon bullshit—the Dirty Wasteland Phrasebook.

For them, it was just a regular ol’ Tuesday.

x - x

This was so not prompted, and is completely self-indulgent and full of all the things I have always wanted to write for myself lately and that makes me the happiest. I hope you enjoy, even if you don’t go here. Also, if you aren’t familiar with Monty Python, please watch this sketch or a lot of the references made here will not make any sense.

Deacon x Agent Charmer (Madelyn Hardy)

1713 words (under a cut) | Ao3

The last thing Madelyn expected to happen to her that Tuesday—was it a Tuesday? One could hardly tell anymore post apocalypse—was to be abducted. Stowed away in some dingy storage room with her hands behind her back, blindfolded by what was likely the most dust infested piece of cloth possible. At least Deacon was there with her—though she wasn’t so sure of that being a positive, considering their circumstances.

All she remembered was stalking Boston Commons, heading south towards the hospital—in hindsight a terrible idea. The entire street had been flooded with Gunners, crazed and ready to protect their territory from anybody who crossed into it. Deacon had been yelling, taunting them with his battle-cries as he ran towards them, Madelyn scrambling to reload her laser rifle as fast as she could. All for what? So they could scale the old medical center and install one of Tinker Tom’s sensors on the dilapidated roof? That would all be a tad difficult now—one gas grenade and rifle stock to the temple and it was lights out.

From what she could tell when she readjusted to the waking world, Deacon was tied to the opposite chair against her back, their chest, arms and wrists occupying the same binds. When she shifted, she felt him resist, tugging her a little too sharply so her spine hit the uncomfortable plastic backing of the seat she occupied.

“Ow,” she hissed. Matter of fact, everything in her body ached. One look at her Pip-Boy would likely tell her she was in desperate need of a stimpak and probably some RadAway too. That is, if she knew where her Pip-Boy was.

Deacon shifted, one of his fingers sneaking through the gap in the chairs to poke at her back. “Oh good, you’re alive.”

“I think I’d rather be dead,” Madelyn groaned, still wincing as she raised her head to get a better look at their surroundings. It was the standard ‘bad guy’ holding room—tools on a workbench, junk and trash, and the most awful lingering scent of flesh and blood.

“With a hit to the cranium like that, I’m surprised you aren’t,” he muttered. She felt his head tilt against hers with a gentle bump, a difficult task for him with their height difference, even when sitting and restrained. “You alright though Charmer?”

She sighed, pushing back in her own little gesture. “A massive headache but…yeah,” she smiled and despite it all, almost wanted to laugh. “Thanks Dee. Some shit we’ve found ourselves in, huh?”

He decided it was the perfect opportunity to chuckle. “I’ve been tied up under worse situations,” he stated. “Come to think of it, under much better ones too.”

The nearby door slammed open, two Gunners making their way in. A woman dressed in an old military jumpsuit, and a shirtless man with a bandolier strapped across his chest, the two clearly sent for guard duty.

“Oh will the two of you shut up?!” The one with the bandana shouted, clearly tweaking on some kind of drug—jet, psycho—Madelyn could see it in the wild way he was waving his plasma pistol around. But she also noted the glint of green on his wrist and narrowed her eyes—her Pip-Boy. Now she was alert and her blood got pumping.

Deacon couldn’t resist taunting the man, even though they were woefully unmatched. “Why don’t you make me?”

The male Gunner grumbled while the woman laughed. “Where’d that damn gag go?”

Madelyn stifled her own laughter, wondering if they had actually had to silence Deacon at some point—and if he had found a way to remove it even with his hands behind his back. “You’ll have to find a different way to gag me, big guy.”

“Fuck you!”

Deacon hummed. “Something like that.”

At that, she couldn’t resist and choked back a laugh, pursing her lips so the Gunners wouldn’t take out their frustration on her. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could tell Deacon was beaming. He curled a few of his fingers around hers as the Gunner guards began to pace.

“Come on man,” the rugged military woman urged the other man to back off. “The boss man wants these two alive for ransom. Something about this one,” she gestured to Madelyn. “Being valuable or sumthin’”

“What am I, canned cram?” Deacon mumbled under his breath. As the Gunners fussed over something frivolous, he squeezed his grip around her hand. “This is the part where we escape,” he spoke in a soft whisper, head craned towards her.

Madelyn turned but all she could see was the glimmer of his sunglasses out of the corner of her eyes. “Please enlighten me on how we are going to that.”

Deacon snickered as if she had just cracked a good joke—he seemed to find comfort in her dreary, cynical tone. “It’s time for us to use a Railroad classic. The Dirty Wastelander Phrasebook.”

Even though she knew that it is was more or less one of Deacon’s bullshit creations, she also knew it was sometimes best to humor him. She had learnt his ways, knowing that one day one of his lessons would come in handy—that Tuesday would be that day.

“Operation Cramalot?” she inquired, feeling him excitedly grip her hand. “Or do we want to skip the musical numbers this time?”

He was chuckling, shaking the both of them with his laughter. “Charmer, you know—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the male guard stomping over again with a snarl, smacking Deacon across the face with an echoing slap. After quickly rebounding, his only reaction was to stay amused, accentuating his words. “Do you have a cigarette? My hovercraft is full of eels.”

“What?” the Gunner growled. “The fuck you talkin’ about cigarettes for?”

While the woman in the corner howled, entertained by it all, Deacon took the time to nudge one of his fingers against the small of her back, signaling her. Madelyn focused her attention on the female Gunner, watching her every movement while she felt her partner nimbly pull at the cords at their wrists.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Deacon asked, voice high-pitched and full of sarcasm. The restraints came looser still. “Bouncy-bouncy?”

The Gunner shook her head, holding her stomach as she continued to laugh. “I think the boss hit this one too hard—he’s lost it!”

Madelyn decided it was her turn. “If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” she eyed the female guard, batting her eyelashes, knowing she was laying it on much thicker than she ever would—but at this point she was well aware the other woman was under some kind of influence and wouldn’t notice. Plus, she had a codename to live up to.

Deacon, meanwhile, had loosened their ties enough to the point that they could make their move, but they would need to time it right. He tapped her once more, this time finding the teeniest sliver of skin where her shirt had ridden up—that was definitely on purpose, the flirt. “You have beautiful thighs.”

Finally, the other Gunner moved towards them with her arms crossed, obviously suspicious of the two. Madelyn stayed focused, steadying her breath and responding to Deacon’s signal. “Drop your panties, Dee, I cannot wait till lunchtime.”

With that, the two jumped up, scream-laughing as they tackled their perspective guards to the ground, not stopping until the sound of energy blasts signified their gruesome ends. All in another day for a wastelander just trying to survive, Madelyn supposed. Though, she wasn’t just another wastelander, but dwelling too much on those thoughts never did her any good. Instead, she wiped the blood and sweat from her brow, sighing as she pushed herself up from the ground.

She turned around just in time to find Deacon already standing with a satisfied smile. “I believe this belongs to you?”

Madelyn was all too pleased as she snatched the Pip-Boy—her Pip-Boy from him, quickly securing it back into place on her left wrist. She dusted off the grime and dust from the screen, sighing when the mechanism recognized its true owner, swiftly alerting her to her many injuries and her location. At least they weren’t too far away from Goodneighbor where they could rest up and get proper medical attention.

“Please fondle my bum—am I using that one right?” she asked.

Deacon chuckled, nodding as he readjusted his sunglasses and pompadour wig. “You do the Railroad—me proud Charmer. I could—”

She eyed him, tilting her head slightly at his pause. “You could…what?”

Come to think of it, he been cut off earlier too. But Deacon wasn’t that easy of a nut to crack and his smile hardly faltered. He gave a little inconspicuous shrug and she suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline and all sense of sensibility fly out the broken storage room windows. She could only hope she was reading the moment and perhaps his signals correctly.

Without much of a second thought, Madelyn reached out to grab him by the shirt collar, yanking him down and closing the distance between them. He was still smirking when their mouths met, lips threatening to stretch into a grin before they finally responded to her kiss instead. She slid one of her hands and hooked it around his shoulder, bracing herself against him as his arms wrapped around her waist, the two clumsily bumping into the nearest wall.

Only then did she pull away with a small gasp of air, staring up at him in surprise—she had acted on impulse, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to do that, been thinking about doing that for months. They were still staring at each other with somewhat agape expressions, tangled in each other’s arms when he breathed out, the goofiest smile on his lips.

“My nipples explode with delight!” Deacon exclaimed—not quite using the handbook phrase correctly.

Madelyn snickered, tears of laughter prickling at the corners of her eyes at the hilarity of it all before pressing up on her toes so that she might kiss him again. “I figured you might say that.”

leave a 💙

#fallout 4 #deacon #deacon x f!solesurvivor #madelyn hardy #agent charmer #otp: my hovercraft is full of eels #THAR BE KISSING HERE ATTN THAR BE KISSING HERE #BUT ALSO LOTS OF SILLY SELF INDULGENCE #i've now established this is a parallel universe to the one where she romances danse but anyways #fanfic #monty python jokes #i am so proud of this ;___;

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Not Nineteen Forever (2) (Branjie/Scyvie)- Ortega

a/n: first off thank you to everyone who’s liked, reblogged, put something cute in their tags, dm’d or sent feedback to me/to AQ about this! it completely warms my heart and motivates me SO MUCH so thank you. in this chapter Scarlet gets a shock, someone gets a new groupchat nickname, and things are revealed during pres. as always send lovely things here or to my blog @artificialortega, and enjoy the quick updates while i’m still not at work!

Trigger Warning: alcohol. standard procedure xo

Summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

***

Scarlet stood in the street, silent, breathing heavily, and absolutely frozen to the spot. She had felt the coin drop from her hand and hit the pavement, but whether that had been seconds ago or minutes ago she couldn’t tell. All that was running through her mind was one single thought, one single number, and no matter how much her eyes darted across the small rectangle of paper it didn’t seem to change.

Five thousand.

She looked again- top left hand corner, top middle, dead middle.

Five thousand.

Scarlet took one deep breath in then held it tightly in her chest before releasing it. Selfishly, she reminded herself that it wasn’t that much money, in the grand scheme of things. Some people would get paid that a month eventually in life. But Scarlet was a student- a philosophy student at that, who wouldn’t get paid shit when she graduated and had absolutely zero job prospects.

Five thousand was big.

She never bought scratchcards. It was a whimsical purchase, along with a granola bar and a bottle of chocolate milk on her way to a lecture, but there was no fucking way that was happening now, not while she had a card in her hand that entitled her to be the proud owner of five thousand whole pounds.

Part of her panicked. Part of her didn’t know what the hell to do with all this money. She completely and utterly was not in any way used to it. She was still thinking and in a complete daze when she walked back into the shop and handed the shopkeeper the card wordlessly. Confused, the man looked at it for a moment then laughed.

“I can’t cash that here,” he chuckled, handing it back to Scarlet. “Can only give you up to one hundred. You need to phone them.”

“Oh,” she laughed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, thanking the man as she took the card and left. Once outside, she turned it over, found the phone number she needed to call, and in a matter of minutes, her NatWest banking app now read: £4985.55 (she had previously been in her overdraft).

So what the hell did she do now?

As if on cue, her phone hummed in her jacket pocket. Bringing it out to look at, she saw the group chat already exploding with messages.

Dave the Laugh: anyone down for lunch near the lib in 5?

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: Yes please. Can we go Liezen?

Kim Kardashian-West: i’m eating the most disappointing sandwich of my life in a staffroom where no other teacher is talking to me! i <3 placement!

Plastique Bague: Nina :(

Plastique Bague: I’d be down for Liezen in 5! Me n Brooke will be there after this lecture

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Biiiiiitch so sad i’m missing this!!!!!! don’t have too much fun without me xo

Scarlet paused for a moment, her thumbs hovering over the phone screen. It would probably make her feel better, going to see the girls, and Yvie would be there too. Her heart gave a little jolt as she typed her own reply.

used Tampon: Can I come too??

There was a small pause in the chat, as if everybody was looking at each other with concern despite all being in separate places. Squeezing her eyes shut, Scarlet tried to push out the spiral of her thoughts to a secret, Scarlet-less group chat the girls had without her. It wasn’t that she felt insecure in her friendship group, it was just that sometimes she felt like the odd one out, that sometimes they were only friends with her for pity, that they secretly joked about her behind her back.

That was insecurity. She’d just defined insecurity.

Sighing, she looked down at her phone again and her heart soared.

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: No sorry it’s a No Scarlet Allowed event xo

Dave the Laugh: Brooke i’m evicting u

Dave the Laugh: ofc u can join, u don’t need to ask bitch!!

Brooke’s comment completely ignored, Scarlet cheerfully made her way through the park that separated all the city’s student-land flats and the main campus, where the cafe they visited so often lay just on the outside of. She didn’t care even if the others hadn’t wanted her to join- Yvie had, and that was what mattered.

Scarlet had a weird relationship with Yvie, different to ones that she had with the rest of her friends. Whenever she saw her, she always felt like she needed to look her best or be acting nonchalant and cool, despite the fact Scarlet couldn’t be either of those things to save herself. If Yvie’s body was having a rough day and was being particularly unkind to her, Scarlet would worry and fuss, and ask Yvie if she needed anything to the point where the other girl sometimes got annoyed at her. She couldn’t help herself- the thought of Yvie being in pain was so horrible to her, cutting through her and making her fret. Sometimes Scarlet felt she couldn’t respond to or take part in any of the friendly shade or roastings that Yvie threw her way, because maybe Yvie would see that as flirting, and that would be weird. They were just friends, after all, Scarlet reminded herself with a nod. It was just…a different type of friendship than the ones she had with the others. But it was still a friendship.

Arriving at the cafe, she scanned the room and found Yvie, Plastique and Brooke Lynn sitting around a booth. Scarlet found her heart giving a jump when she saw the seat next to Yvie was free and she walked towards the table happily, sliding into the free seat and greeting everyone.

“Hey, boo,” Yvie smiled, scooting up so that Scarlet had more room.

“Oh she’s here, guys. We need to stop talking about her now,” Brooke said dryly and sipped her coffee, her tone of voice giving absolutely nothing away. Scarlet’s mouth fell open, confused.

Plastique burst out laughing as Brooke winced in pain, Scarlet feeling the motion of a leg kicking out from beside her.

“She’s fucking with you, Scarlet, don’t worry,” Plastique smiled sweetly, Scarlet grateful for the sympathy. Brooke and Yvie appeared to be locked in an aggressive staring contest, so Scarlet spoke in an effort to break it.

“How’ve your days all been?” she asked lightly, picking up the menu and giving it a flippant scan before deciding she’d order what she always did.

“Boring. I got up and went to the gym, we had a 9am-” Plastique gestured between herself and Brooke. “- and then a tutorial, and now we’re here. We made a really good effort to get some work done in the library though. We spent a whole…what was it, ten? Five minutes in there?”

“Um sorry, I would’ve happily stayed and done work but Miss I-Need-Food-Or-I’ll-Die dragged me out here,” Brooke cast an incredulous glance at her friend. Plastique shrugged.

“Guilty,” she said, before sipping at an orange juice she had in front of her.

“How’s your day been, Scarlet?” Yvie asked, her head leaning on her hand in an effort to face her.

Scarlet considered her options as quickly as she could in the two second time gap she had in which to answer. She could tell the girls about the scratchcard, or she could just…not. As mean as it sounded, she’d heard about people’s friends changing when they’d had a lottery win, and not necessarily for the better. Okay, it was only five thousand (only? ONLY?) but it was still probably more money than any of them had ever had at uni, and Scarlet still didn’t really know what she was going to do with it all. Looking in Yvie’s eyes, she was struck with a pang of guilt for what she was about to say.

“Uh, alright. I got up kinda late. I’m actually supposed to have a lecture just now, but I blew it off. Balsamic tomatoes were calling me,” she shrugged, pleased when both Yvie and Brooke laughed. As the waiter arrived to take their order, Scarlet let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding. She hadn’t known lying would come this easily to her. Well- technically she hadn’t lied. She hadn’t not told them about the scratchcard. She just…happened to omit it from the recount of her day.

As the waiter moved away from their table, the conversation turned to a night out that Vanessa’s flat was apparently hosting pres for this evening. Scarlet felt a pang of envy. She wished she had the sort of flatmates that were all so close and hosted things together, but instead she was stuck in a two bed with a girl she’d found on SpareRooms who inexplicably hated her. She longed to be the flat that everyone would come to for chilled times, like Brooke, Yvie and Nina, or the flat that hosted crazy parties like Vanessa, Silky and Akeria. At the very least, she wished she had Plastique’s excuse to not host anything- her incredibly rich and successful Mum had simply bought her a beautiful flat in the nicest part of town, which she shared with her friend from school. Scarlet’s mouse-infested two bed was a million miles away.

“I don’t know, Yvie, we’ve only got three weeks until showcase,” Brooke sighed, hands around her cup of coffee. Yvie waved a dismissive hand.

“Shut up with these excuses already. Plastique, you’ll come because you can’t stop yourself from drinking anything with an alcohol content higher than 3% and Brooke, you’ll come because it’s Vanjie.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Brooke asked pointedly, fixing her gaze on Yvie. The other girl laughed.

“It means you want to bone,” Yvie explained, scrunching up her face with a laugh as she made a snipping motion with her fingers.

“BOOOOOOONE?!” Plastique impersonated, causing Scarlet and Yvie to burst out laughing.

“Fuck you all. It’s not like that at all,” Brooke rolled her eyes, unamused. Scarlet felt for the girl. In the time she’d been part of the friendship group, she knew that Brooke pined for Vanessa but also that Vanessa crushed on Brooke with exactly the same intensity, Vanessa often confiding things to Scarlet in the Philosophy lectures they were in together. Scarlet had told Yvie all of this, and Yvie, naturally, told Brooke time and time again how much Vanessa liked her, but never told Brooke how she knew (a gesture, Scarlet always thought, that was sweet of her as it protected her from any fallout of Vanessa finding out that Scarlet had told Yvie).

“I think it’s sweet,” Scarlet chimed in, her stomach spasming as Brooke fixed her with an unimpressed gaze. “You know. That you’re waiting to tell her until you’re sure she likes you too. I feel like I would do the same.”

To Scarlet’s relief, Brooke pulled a smug smile and gestured across the table to Scarlet. “See? She knows.”

Yvie frowned at Scarlet, drumming her fingers against the table. “So you would wait as long as she has to tell someone you liked them?”

Scarlet found her words catching in her throat. For some reason, Brooke laughed.

“Girl. Shut up.”

“What?!” Yvie exclaimed. “It’s just interesting!”

“Interesting in what way?” Plastique asked, her face expressionless and a quick knowing look passing between her and Brooke before the waiter arrived with their food (scrambled eggs, avocado and tomatoes with balsamic on sourdough for Scarlet, bacon roll for Yvie, raisin granola with strawberry jam for Plastique and a chocolate and hazelnut croissant for Brooke) and the conversation was forgotten about. The chat then turned into uni moaning, deadline stressing and tutor bitching, something Scarlet was glad about. She’d just completed her first Philosophy essay of the year and she desperately wanted to impress her tutor after achieving good marks last year, so she vented to the girls about her worries.

“None of you will believe the conversation we had with Silky when we were at the pub the other night,” Yvie began, Scarlet already laughing as she’d heard this story before. “So she got this essay back and her tutor gave her like…52 or fifty something, it was a low mark at least. And Silk starts going off like ‘Well! I know it was a good essay! It don’t matter! I’ll just do another one!’. Like…! I had to be like 'Well it kinda does matter, bitch, it’s your whole fucking degree!’”

The girls at the table howled with laughter, glad of a cautionary tale and a distraction from their own performance at uni.

“I worry about Silky sometimes,” Brooke frowned, peeling off a small bit of her croissant and eating it.

“Silky will be fine,” Plastique reassured her through her last mouthful of granola. “At the very least she’ll get a job for a local paper and she’ll get paid to write controversial opinion pieces all day.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about grad jobs,” Scarlet sighed, the thought of having to find something to do once she finished uni making her heart palpitate. Yvie smiled, reaching out and taking Scarlet’s hand.

“You’ll be fine. It’s these two you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” Brooke Lynn folded her arms together and narrowed her eyes at her flatmate.

“Well. More Brooke than Plastique. She’s always got the option of living at home and getting spoiled for the rest of her life.”

“Getting suffocated, you mean,” Plastique pouted, leaning back in her seat.

“What are you going to do after you graduate?” Scarlet asked Yvie, at once interested. Yvie tilted her head and thought.

“Forensics. Or actually, I’d quite like to work at a mortuary. Something with dead bodies,” she shrugged, Plastique wrinkling her nose.

“You’re a spooky bitch,” she recoiled, Yvie laughing in that deep, Disney-Villan way that Scarlet secretly loved.

“And what, bitch? And what? Anyway,” she took a sip of her diet coke. “I don’t need to worry about jobs yet. That goes for all of us. We don’t need to think about that shit til January.”

“It’s already October!” Scarlet cried, her eyes wide and fearful. Yvie, she noted, had still not let go of her hand, as she gave it a squeeze and laughed.

“Guys, let’s not be dramatic, we will all be fine,” Brooke shook her head, finishing the last of her croissant. Her comment stung Scarlet a little and she shrank back in her chair, suddenly inhibited and self-conscious.

“Well, this was lovely but we’d better get to the lib,” Plastique shrugged, pulling out her purse. Scarlet had a sudden thought. Maybe the others would start to warm up to her if she took care of the financial aspect of friendship every now and then. A lunch here, a round of drinks there. If she started to show some generosity, then maybe the girls would start to like her more.

“Hey, I’ll treat us!” she smiled, causing all three girls to whip round and stare at Scarlet as if she had sprouted an extra head. She immediately regretted her decision. Was this too suspicious? She gave a fake laugh. “My Mum sent me some money earlier this week and said to treat me and some friends to dinner. It’s not dinner, but it’s close enough?”

To her relief, Brooke and Plastique raised their eyebrows and shrugged. Brooke sent her a warm smile from across the table. “Well lucky us! Thanks, Scarlet. That’s cute.”

Scarlet cast a glance to the girl beside her and saw Yvie looking at her with intrigue, her face deep in thought. Buoyed by Plastique and Brooke’s kindness, she stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well am I going halfers with you, then?”

Yvie relaxed, giving a laugh and pushing Scarlet a little. “Oh my God, no, I’ll take what I can get of course. Thanks, baby.”

Scarlet’s heart gave a little explosion. This was a pet name she hadn’t heard from Yvie before, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t make her skin prickle and her blood feel hot in her veins. She wished she could stop smiling, but found herself unable to.

Scarlet paid and the girls all filed out of the cafe, saying goodbye with tight hugs and cheek kisses and promises to see each other later at the pres that Vanjie was hosting. When Brooke and Plastique said goodbye to her, Scarlet could have sworn their smiles were wider than usual, and she was sure that Yvie had hugged her extra tight. Scarlet was so happy that she headed straight into town, treating herself to a new outfit for the night ahead from a shop she would never usually even set foot into. She was in the changing rooms trying it on when the group chat went off again.

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Mine tonight, who’s coming!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EXCUSE ME

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: OURS

Kim Kardashian-West: Me!!!!!! #tgif

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: they know wtf i mean

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: sorry i have other plans with more important friends who i don’t live with

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: My God your…so unfunny…it pains me physically

Kim Kardashian-West: *you’re

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *you’re

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *YOU’RE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: IM DYING

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *you’re

Plastique Bague: i’m coming

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: I’m not coming any mose

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: PLASTIQUE!!!!!! you ruined it lmao

Plastique Bague: fuck u too Brooke

Plastique Bague: oh lol sorry

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Who’s mose.

Kim Kardashian-West: Tell me why I find mose so funny

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: MOSE ADDFGGHLL

Plastique Bague: oh my god mose

Cananana Canadada hey hey hey bingo: guys oh my god a bitch makes a typo!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: MOSE I CANT BREATHE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE set the nickname for Brooke Lynn Hytes to mose.

mose: I hate you all so much

Plastique Bague: IM DYING

Kim Kardashian-West: VANJIE AHAHAHAHAHAAHAH

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: actually fuck this has killed me off

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: VANJIE IM HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTACK!!!!!! MOSE!!!!!!

Dave the Laugh: mose lmao

Dave the Laugh: anyway i’m coming tonight

Dave the Laugh: Scarlet said she was coming at lunch

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Omg. does this mean we have a full squad?

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: this NEVER happens

mose: I’m still not coming

mose: I’m being cyberbullied

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: you are so coming bitchhhh

Scarlet noted the plethora of heart emojis Vanessa tacked on to the end of her message to Brooke before sending hers, still confident from her lunch with the girls and the short, gold dress she was looking at herself in the mirror in.

used Tampon: I’m coming so we OFFICIALLY have a full squad ladies!!

used Tampon: Well. If mose is coming xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: SCARLET HAHAHAHA

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Scarlet i swear that’s the funniest uv ever been

Plastique Bague: Ahahahaha WOOO!! Yaaaas to full squad!!

Kim Kardashian-West: Mose will be there if i have to drag her there!! Yay Scarlet!!!

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: Brooky if u come i’ll give you a big cuddle!

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: Anna ou-

mose: I don’t like that threat

mose: See you all later, I’ll be their

Plastique Bague: *there

used Tampon: *there

Akeria Sainsburys Bag for Life: *there

Kim Kardashian-West: *there

mose: FUCK YOU ALL!!!!!!

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: *THERE

FORD TRANSIT VANJIE: *there assddffghjkkl love u Brooke xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After a little shopping trip, a nap, a small, solo getting-ready party and absolutely no uni work, Scarlet found herself in a taxi on her way to Vanessa’s flat, fiddling with the hem of her new dress that popped out from under her parka and wondering to herself if it was too short. She had bought the biggest bottle of gin she could find in the supermarket, not thinking twice about dropping £40 on it, and a small half bottle of tequila. Tonight would be a big one if she had anything to do with it. Scarlet was excited- she hated always being that person that had to borrow money for the entry fee, the only person who couldn’t buy drinks for everyone in the club, the person that got bought pity shots because she couldn’t afford a drink. Tonight, things would be different.

She arrived at the girls’ flat and pressed the buzzer, the music from Akeria’s room pouring out of the second-floor window already. Scarlet wasn’t that late- Vanessa had said 9 and it was only half past, but already she could hear the girls upstairs drunkenly singing along to Pitbull. There was suddenly a loud buzz from the intercom and Scarlet found the front door swinging open. She jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her white trainers, and was greeted with a tight hug from Akeria, whose eyes were already considerably glassy. Scarlet was led through to Akeria’s huge, fairy-lights-and-mirrors covered room, where a huge cheer went up from the girls inside at her arrival. Plastique, Nina and Brooke Lynn were all sat on the edge of Akeria’s huge bed, and Silky and Vanessa were on the worn, purple carpet beside them, making a semicircle. Yvie was sat on the small sofa opposite the bed, dressed in a black lace jumpsuit that caused Scarlet’s pulse to race. Smiling and raising up the bottle of gin from her bag, Scarlet laughed as another cheer exploded in the room. She stepped carefully over the dwindling pack of cards that formed a circle around a pint glass full of a liquid that looked absolutely vile, and sat on the sofa beside Yvie, shrugging her jacket off.

“Hey,” Yvie smiled, flipping her septum piercing in and out of her nose absent-mindedly. “You look nice. I like this.”

Scarlet felt her cheeks heat up as Yvie momentarily touched her bare thigh, fiddling with the material at the hem of Scarlet’s dress. Scarlet rolled her shoulders back and flipped some of her hair over one. “Thanks! Just got it today. You look so good!”

“God, this old thing?” Yvie put a hand to her chest and laughed, Scarlet joining in until Akeria squashed herself down on the sofa beside her.

“Thanks for stealing my space,” she said unamused and giving Scarlet a quick once-over with her eyes. “Here, I got you a glass.”

Scarlet thanked her and poured herself out a measure of gin and lemonade which was approximately 40% gin and 60% mixer. She watched as Vanjie pulled out a card from the deck and a huge roar went up from the girls, a King staring back at the girl’s disappointed face.

“Aw, fuck my life!”

“Get it down, girl!” Yvie laughed, delighting in the other girl’s anguish.

“Vanjie, I’ll drink half if you really don’t want to,” came Brooke’s voice, the groans of objection from the other girls almost making Scarlet miss the grateful smile that Vanjie shot Brooke’s way.

“Um, no the fuck you won’t, bitch!” Yvie piped up again, outraged.

“Yeah this ain’t fuckin’ I’m A Celebrity, drink the damn thing!” Silky all but screamed, the girls chanting as Vanjie raised the glass to her lips and tilted it, some of whatever was in it dripping down her chin and spilling onto her black vinyl skirt. In under ten seconds, the glass was empty and the room was cheering, Vanjie giving a triumphant smile and wiping at her mouth with a somewhat flailing arm.

“Okay, next game!” Plastique demanded, thumping her knees.

“Question game,” Nina said instantly in a monotone voice, some girls cheering and some girls groaning. Scarlet’s heart dropped.

“Noo, please! Last time we played this I got my chat nickname, and it’s fucking horrific.”

“What, when you had to tell everyone that you were the one who left the used tampon in our toilet?” Yvie laughed, and Scarlet felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

“It wouldn’t flush!! And I wasn’t about to leave it lying at the top of your bin, was I?!” she cried, Yvie laughing and pulling her into her side for a hug. Scarlet supposed the embarrassment was worth it.

“Okay, no tampon-themed questions, guys,” Akeria laughed, the others muttering a laugh around her. “Remember, if you stumble, you answer and drink, if it’s a shit question, you answer and drink-”

“Akeria! We’re in third year! We know how the fuck the game works!” Brooke exclaimed, the other girl narrowing her eyes at her.

“I’m out to get you now, bitch,” she said forebodingly, Yvie “oooooh”-ing spookily beside Scarlet and making her laugh. “Who’s starting?”

“Me!” Silky yelled, and launched into her first question before anyone could object. “Akeria, who was the last person you fucked?”

“Nina, have you ever got with a stranger in the club?” she immediately fired across the room, the other girl’s face dropping in surprise.

“Vanjie, where’s the worst place you’ve had sex?”

“Plastique, would you ever go there with Ariel?” she yelled, her face relaxing in relief that the heat was off her. Plastique, who had been taking a drink at the time, choked, and a chorus of cheers went up as the girls realised she’d have to answer. Scarlet felt for Plastique as a red prickly heat began to spread across her chest and neck.

“I mean,” she began, her voice suddenly quiet. “I guess? Like maybe it would be weird but…whatever. Yes. It’d be fun, and we wouldn’t be awkward about it the next day. And I wouldn’t have to do the walk of shame. I’d just go across the hall to my own room. So it’s convenient.“

“So the fact that she’s hot just doesn’t come into it?” Brooke deadpanned, a bomb of laughter exploding in the room and Brooke receiving an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. Scarlet could relax for the small amount of time the game wasn’t being played. She always lived in terrible fear that someone would bring up the weird sort of relationship that she and Yvie had, and she really didn’t want to have to address it. Finishing her drink, Plastique began again.

“Nina, what’s the biggest dick you’ve ever taken?”

“Brooke, anal: thoughts?”

Brooke laughed as she attempted to get her question out. “Scarlet, have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about someone in this room?”

FUCK. “Akeria, what’s the youngest you’d ever go?”

“Plastique, have you ever done speed?”

“Yvie, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever masturbated with?”

“The hell?” Yvie scrunched up her face and laughed, before moving on quickly. “Brooke, if you could fuck anyone in this room, who would it be?”

Scarlet’s mouth dropped open as she watched Brooke’s face turn white. “Silky, um…uh…oh, fuck! I had one!”

The room descended into chaos as everyone realised Brooke would have to answer the question. Scarlet jumped as she suddenly felt Yvie lean in to her side and whisper in her ear.

“How many times do we have to play this game at pres before Brooke answers with Vanessa? She has to at some point, right?”

Scarlet laughed and sat forward eagerly to hear Brooke’s answer, noticing Vanjie looking at her intently out of the corner of her eye.

“Um…” Brooke began, then laughed and took Nina’s hand. “I’m going to say Nina. Because she would make you a cup of tea afterwards and breakfast in the morning, and really what more would you want?”

Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanjie’s smile turned into a fake one and something shut down behind her eyes. With a pang of empathy, she narrowed her eyes at Brooke and shook her head. “Shit answer!”

Brooke and Nina fixed their surprised gazes on Scarlet as the other girls laughed and some of them agreed. Nina raised her eyebrows in mock-offence. “Scarlet, I’m offended! Are you saying I would be a shit fuck!”

Scarlet felt panic rise in her chest. “No, I-”

Nina burst out laughing. “I’m only kidding, you’re right, it was a shit answer.”

Scarlet joined in with the laughter and shouts that filled the room, confidence spiking again. Brooke soon started the game once more. As things progressed, the girls got more and more drunk and more and more loud, and Scarlet’s gin and tequila got passed around the room, everyone appreciative of free alcohol. As they drank more, Scarlet felt herself and Yvie grow closer together on the sofa until she was practically in the other girl’s lap. The only problem was, as everyone drank more, they all became less on the ball with coming up with questions rapidly.

“Akeria, how do you really feel about Silky?”

“Plastique, what’s your net worth?”

“Scarlet, gaaah, have you ever had a sexy dream about someone in this room?”

“Silky, have you ever farted in bed?”

“Oh my God, y'all nasty! Yvie, have you ever fantasised about anyone in this room?”

“Nina, where was the last time that you…I mean, when was the last place…god damn it!” Yvie exclaimed, jeers filling the room as Yvie blushed uncharacteristically. Scarlet’s interest was piqued. With a small jab of annoyance, she’d wished that Silky had asked who Yvie had fantasised about, but then she’d maybe get an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Um. Yeah. Obviously! I mean, haven’t we all?” Yvie shrugged, trying to play the question off casually. Scarlet felt her heart speed up in her chest. Akeria raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Haven’t we all imagined ourselves in a sexual situation with one of our friends? I don’t think you’re gonna like the answer to that,” she chuckled, Plastique howling with laughter.

“Unless your name’s Brooke or Vanessa,” Yvie shrugged, the girls all descending into screeches of laughter, Silky’s being the loudest as she got up from the floor and started jumping on an unimpressed Akeria’s bed. Scarlet looked at Brooke, who was eyeing Yvie darkly with a tight smile on her face. Yvie cleared her throat beside Scarlet, her eyes expressing regret as if she’d gone too far. Changing the subject, she asked the next question. “Uh, Akeria, what’s your body count?”

“Nina, what’s going on with you and Monet from your course?”

“Ah, oh, um,” Nina began, flustered. She shut her eyes tightly. “Brooke, what’s the dirtiest text you’ve ever sent?”

“Plastique, how many nudes have you sent?”

“Vanjie, who’s the most fuckable person in this room?”

Vanjie screwed up her face and gestured in disbelief. “Shit question, bitch.”

Shouts of objection filled the room. Vanessa put her hands out in front of herself in protest.

“Now, now, now, wait a damn minute! It’s only shit because there’s an obvious answer,” she shrugged, taking a sip of Scarlet’s gin that she’d mixed with her Fanta. As everybody waited with baited breath, she rolled her eyes. “Brooke Lynn. Duh.”

As if it was Wembley Stadium at full time, the room exploded with cheers and roars, and Scarlet doubled over giggling. Brooke was laughing but her face had gone beetroot red, and Vanjie was smiling, pleased she’d elicited such a reaction. Scarlet felt herself fall into Yvie’s side as she laughed. This was great! She was having such a good time!

There was a sudden three bangs on the front door out in the hall, silencing the room and making Scarlet jump. Many of the girls giggled anxiously as Akeria threw her hands up and shook her head.

“Nope! No, I got the last three, I am not getting this one as well.”

“Bitch! Lemme at ‘em,” Silky exclaimed, getting up from her position on the floor. There was silence in which some of the girls (mostly Plastique) made inappropriate comments to try and get everyone to laugh, while they listened through the door to Silky, Vanessa and Akeria’s upstairs neighbour rant and rave about how he had work in the morning, and how this was the fourth time in two weeks, and how next time it would be the police that would get called. As she giggled, Scarlet felt Yvie take her hand and squeeze it, the other girl laughing evilly under her breath and making her laugh even more.

Fuck. Scarlet was beginning to realise her friendship with Yvie wasn’t strictly a friendship anymore.

The bang from the front door caused everyone to jump, and Silky was back in the room almost as quickly as she’d left.

“RIGHT bitches, c’mon, you heard the man, drink up, move, move, move!”

And with that, Scarlet tugged Yvie up from her position on the sofa, ready for the night that lay ahead and all the regrets and consequences that could accompany it.

#rpdr fanfiction

133 notes · View notes

slaughterjaw · 5 years ago

Text

The Protector pt. 1

tw: death

"Is this little patrol truly making full use of our skills, Captain Slaughterjaw?"

Celaryn turned her scarred visor to the soldier who asked the question. Her pauldrons lifted in a casual shrug before fitting her thumb into her belt. "Deathguard Shadowbiter, if the Executor tells us to do something, we do it without questions and without fuss."

"Forgive me, captain." Shadowbiter lowered his head submissively, yellow eyes falling to the beaten path the soldiers marched on. "I only wish to know the Executor's reasoning with sending us into a ruined village whose only inhabitants are the worms feasting on the fallen's dead."

Celaryn hummed, amused. "You and me both, deathguard." The captain continued marching toward the grim speck in the distance. After a few moments, her impassive red gaze scanned the creaky sign: Pyrewood Village. "But in the same way the sword at your hip does not halt itself when you swing toward a foe, so should you not doubt the Executor's decree."

"I don't doubt that he has a plan, but would it truly hurt him to let his soldiers be in the know?" Shadowbiter pressed his rotten lip against his yellowed under-bitten teeth and let out a slow exhale through his nostrils.

"You'll find that plans being on a need-to-know basis isn't to purposefully exclude you," the captain explained, metal hand raising to rest on the greenhorn's shoulder. "The purpose is to prevent leaks in the event the enemy is listening in, or we are captured."

The deathguard dipped his head again in silent acknowledgment.

"Now come." Celaryn continued past the village's sign, walking tall in blackened plate. The deathguard followed behind. And soon, the pair stood at the outer perimeter of the settlement.

Pyrewood was a town in shambles, illuminated solely by the looming Moon shining over through the gaps in the trees. The Forsaken had taken the village after Arugal's death and snuffed out the fires of life. The attacking Deathguard already stripped the buildings of valuables and anything else which could be melted down to create weapons or armor. All that remained of the hardy populace were the rotting bodies deemed unworthy of raising and left for the crows.

Celaryn's nose furled as the stench of putrefied flesh assaulted her nostrils. She cast a slow gaze across the remnants of this small pocket of civilization. Heavy footfalls plodded through the muddy grass and drove away the crows as the forsaken approached the cold corpse of a man in farmer's overalls. He clutched a pitchfork with his stiff fingers, and his dry eyes were devoid of emotion as they stared up to the night. How the crows hadn't picked them out yet, Celaryn didn't know. With drooped ears, the warrior knelt beside the man and passed her fingertips across his eyelids, closing them.

"Why did this village have to die?" the captain muttered to the passing cold wind.

Shadowbiter shook his head. "With respect, captain, the living are our enemy."

"Living or dead, what glory is there in the slaughter of the defenseless?"

The deathguard's posture drooped, but he offered no rebuttal. His yellow eyes lowered to the mud as he wrung his claws tighter around his sword's hilt. Wordlessly, he followed behind Celaryn as she wandered to the next building.

The home was a simple cottage with a planter of wilted white lilacs set in the window sill. The axed-in door creaked, barely holding onto the frame by a single rusty hinge as Celaryn pushed it open and entered. Moonlight shone through the cracked window, glinting off of the flies buzzing around two more bodies sprawled out on the floor. This pair seemed to be a couple. A red splotch stained both the man and woman's torsos in the same region, right where the heart resided. One spear thrust was all it took.

Celaryn's hands wrung around the hilt of her weapon as her crimson gaze looked over the couple. Her yellow teeth ground against her metal jaw, only stopping as she heard a sharp crack. Slowly, she raised a hand over her helmet, cupping the palm over where her mouth would be, and dragged it down visor. The captain swiftly turned on her heels, facing back to the lilacs in the windowsill.

She extended her clawed fingers toward the wilted flowers and delicately plucked a stem from the planter. Celaryn stood silently with a bowed head as she rotated the stem between her index and thumb. She stilled her entire posture and slowly closed her eyes, hearing the wind breathe in and out the ruined home in grim vigil.

"Captain," Shadowbiter whispered with a solemn nod. Though reluctant to disturb her, duty came first. "We... We should get going."

Celaryn's eyes gradually opened, glowing red in the darkness to once again face harsh reality. "A moment." She leaned her longsword by the window sill and carefully tied the lilac's stem around the pommel. "Let's g--" The rickety floorboards squeaked across the room as Celaryn wrapped her fingers around her weapon's hilt. She whipped her head toward the noise and drew her sword, pointing its tip toward the other end of the darkened room.

A stuttered whimper perked the captain’s stitched ears. The voice didn't sound like a worgen's. Celaryn lowered her sword slightly, though she kept a firm grip around the handle. "Who goes there?" she called out to the darkness.

From the shadows, a small figure took shape as it inched forward with uncertain footsteps. It was a young Human girl, perhaps no older than six. Her eyes were sunken and red as she looked up to the towering, black-armored forsaken looming above her.

"P-Please..." the girl stuttered as she tried to steady her trembling breath. Who knows how long this child had been here. Or even worse, if she had to witness her parents' fate.

Celaryn's ears drooped as she felt her weapon's grip loosen. The child gasped and cowered as the longsword clattered to the floor. Stinging moisture welled up in the corners of the girl's eyes.

"Captain..." Shadowbiter softly called out. He released his grip from the sword at his waist and let the arm drape back to his side.

Before the deathguard could say another word, Celaryn knelt before the girl and extended an empty, gentle palm out. The child flinched, bracing her back against the wall as her breaths quickened. Celaryn’s head drooped, crimson eyes staring holes in the floor before she gradually raised her head. The forsaken's Common had grown rusty, and the words were alien on her tongue. But she slowly sounded out each unnatural syllable and hoped the meaning got across.

"I will protect."

As the heavily Thalassian-accented words came through, the child’s lip shook. She took another slow breath and nodded, trying to calm her breathing as she outstretched her small trembling hand and placed it in the warrior's rough palm. The child sniffled as her fingertips shook against the cuts on Celaryn's hand. Her soft words came through again.

"I will protect you," the soldier assured, bringing her other gauntlet to gently rest on the back of the child's palm. Celaryn gently squeezed the hand in her grip, an unspoken promise.

The girl broke down, sobbing as she wrapped around both arms around the forsaken’s torso and buried her face into Celaryn’s armor. Despite how bitterly cold the old steel was against her cheek, the child hung on for dear life. Celaryn slowly brought her palm around the back of the girl's nape and hugged her close.

"I will kill for you.”

#my writing #the protector #wow writing #world of warcraft writing #forsaken #wra rp #mg rp #wyrmrest accord

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slyreaderslibrary · 5 years ago

Text

CH. 8 Swimming With The Fishes

AO3: Here

Fanfiction: Here

Summary: Keeping a secret identity secret is normally hard enough but when you’re as beautiful as Minako Aino you’re bound to have all kinds of creeps and weirdo stalking your every move. Now there’s a cop hot on her trail and she’ll have to be quick on her feet if she’s to keep her identity on the DL. Just what is a gorgeous super-heroine to do?

Rei frowned and rested her hands in her lap, her gaze remaining firmly straight ahead. That was not a good sign as far as Minako was concerned.

"Well?"

Rei pursed her lips but finally shifted to look at her.

"Something is preventing me from getting a reading, something powerful. I couldn't even catch a glimpse of the detective."

"Do you think he's an enemy?"

"No…" Rei paused. "Actually, I'd say whatever's blocking him feels almost familiar."

Minako blinked.

"Familiar? Like Silver Millennium familiar?"

Rei began to shake her head no but then hesitated. "Maybe? I think I'll need to meditate on it a bit more."

"...can probably do this in one take. We have three drones that will follow you, so all you need to do is run the length of the bridge without stopping, okay? Okay? Minako-chan are you listening?"

Minako jolted to attention at the sound of her name and blushed when she realized the director, his assistant and two cameramen were all staring at her.

"Sorry! I must not have gotten enough sleep last night. I just need to run this way, right?" She pointed in the correct direction and was relieved when the director nodded. The day before must have affected her more than she expected if she was spacing out on the job.

Minako wandered over to her starting point and adjusted the zipper of her jacket a little, making sure it exposed the bright orange sports bra underneath. She waited for the director to say action and then did a few neck stretches and shoulder rolls before slipping into a light jog. How long was she supposed to run for anyways? Rainbow bridge stretched on for some length. Surely the director didn't mean for her to run the entire way?

More importantly, had Rei made any headway on the detective since yesterday? Enemy or no, the last thing they needed were old acquaintances from past lives popping up. They tended to come with baddies looking for trouble.

Her line of vision crested over the pavement allowing her to spot a figure clamoring over the railing up ahead. The figure rose to their full height before spotting her heading their way and raised a shaky finger to point at her.

"Don't come any closer!"

Minako stumbled at the sudden command but did as the stranger demanded and slowed to a walk while raising her hands in front of her.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you were doing," she called back while cautiously moving forward. She gestured with her thumb to the crew a little ways behind her. "But we're filming an ad and I'm supposed to run the length of the bridge."

The stranger—a man she guessed now that she was a little closer—stared back at her uncomprehending and then jerked his head in the direction of the crew and then to the drones overhead.

"No, no, no!" The man cried, clutching his head while one arm remained looped around the bridge cable. "I can't do it now! They'll never get the money now!"

Minako inched a little closer, taking in the man's threadbare clothes and his gaunt cheeks.

"What money?" she asked innocently.

The man spun in her direction, clearly having forgotten about her in his misery, and nearly lost his balance on the rail. He flung his body closer to the cable and held on tight.

"The money!" He hissed, "The insurance money!" He waved at the drones still flying nearby. "They'll never get the money if I'm filmed jumping!" The man's face twisted and large fat drops began dripping down his face as he howled, "Everything is ruined!"

Minako moved a little closer. She wasn't quite in touching distance yet but if the worst should happen, she'd be able to make a grab for him. A siren went off in the distance, signaling for her to hurry things up.

"Why do you need money so badly?"

"Because!" The man blubbered, voice muffled by his hands covering his face, "My little girl is dying!" His breath hitched as he sucked in enough air to scream some more. "And I can't afford the treatment!"

Minako's lips formed a small pout as she closed the remaining distance between them. The sirens were louder now. She was sure they'd be arriving any second.

"I've got money," she said in quiet but clear voice. She licked her lips. "And if I don't have enough, I have friends who would be happy to contribute. There's no need to do this. What's your daughter's name?"

"Tomoko," The man sniffled, wincing as he swallowed. "Imada, Tomoko...but I can't take your money miss. It's not right."

"Nonsense," Minako grinned, "What's the point of having money if I can't help those who need it?"

Imada-san hiccuped, his bottom lip trembling a little as his eyes began to water anew.

"Oh thank yo—"

A car door slammed shut causing Minako to jump. She turned around in time to see Detective Koizumi getting out of another vehicle, only for him to look her way and then widened his eyes in alarm as he began shouting and rushing towards her.

Minako couldn't hear what he was saying but she could read between the gaps. She spun back around and grabbed for Imada-san but only managed to rip a button from the man's shirt before he plummeted over the railing. There wasn't time to waste. She ran and jumped off the cable, using the momentum to vault over the railing, before kicking off the bridge and diving toward an unconscious Imada-san who had hit his head when he had slipped. Minako thanked her lucky stars for this small blessing considering the police—and most likely her film crew—were watching her every movement. Carefully angling her right hand from sight, Minako tapped into her powers, feeling the warm wave rush through her and settle in her palm, and then directed it towards Imada-san's belt buckle, pulling him towards her. As soon as he was in reach, she grabbed him, covering his head with her hand and then braced for impact, allowing her power to shoot out of her fingers and break through the water just before they hit its surface, softening the blow.

She had just enough time to pray the water wasn't too cold before the frigid temperatures hit her and pulled them under.

~~~

He was going to kill her.

First he was going to make sure she was alive, and then he was going to kill her before she could be the death of him.

If she lived, of course.

Keisuke scanned the waters with laser like focus, his stomach and arms clenched tight as he prayed for ridiculously golden blonde hair to appear. The odds were slim, he knew. Tokyo's Rainbow Bridge was fifty meters high and only the most experienced could dive from that height and survive with minimal damage. His Suicide Watch Prevention class had taught him that, as well as the city's prime location for jumpers. He didn't imagine anyone had bothered to inform a certain foolish, young blonde.

The others began crowding around him, they too searching for Aino and the suicidal man, and in the distance he could see the Coast Guard carefully making their way closer to the submergence point.

A gasp rang through the crowd and several people pointed toward the little island a short distance away where Aino could be seen dragging the man to the shore. Keisuke felt his body relax even as his chest squeezed uncomfortably. He rubbed the spot roughly above his heart and watched as she checked the man for breathing and then fell back on her butt before spotting those gathered along the rails. Aino raised her fingers in a victory salute while sporting a cheeky grin, reminding Keisuke again of his plans to throttle the living daylights out of her.

…

By the time he'd made it to the docks, the Coast Guard had already plucked the two survivors from the island and was just pulling up along the closest dock. He could see Aino along the upper deck, looking ridiculous as she flirted with a crewman, who looked barely legal, while shivering under a large blanket. The man she'd saved was a little farther off, along with another crewman who was holding an oxygen mask to the man's face.

Keisuke waited for the boat to lower its gangway with a degree of patience that was impressive, even to him. That is, until the gangway was locked in place, and then he was onboard and across the deck before Aino could so much as wink at the useless officer.

He flashed his badge to the boy and then hauled Aino to her feet. "Excuse me but I need to have a word with Aino-san." He then dragged her a little ways off where he could be sure they had a degree of privacy before rounding on her.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "You could have died."

Aino pouted, pushing her full bottom lip out. Her lips—along with her cheeks—were rosier than usual, most likely due to the low temperature of the water, but Keisuke refused to let this earn any sympathy from him. Maybe next time she'd think about that before diving into an icy bay.

"The Coast Guard Officer said I was brave."

"The Coast Guard Officer would have said you were the Emperor of Japan if you batted your eyes at him long enough."

Aino smiled prettily at that, which only made him angrier. Did she not realize she was lucky to be alive?

"Minako-chan!"

Two men came rushing over to where they stood, a short thin man with a goatee and a sprinkle of grey through his dark hair and a much taller man, with long, pale white hair wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. The latter didn't look particularly worried, content to let the other man fuss over their charge, and instead turned his contemptuous gaze to study Keisuke quite shamelessly.

Keisuke raised a brow at that but chose to ignore him, instead focusing his attention on the shorter man who was still fussing over Aino.

"Still, I'm so sorry Director Miyake. I hope I didn't ruin the shoot. I'm afraid I reacted without thinking."

"Ruin?" Director Miyake gasped, "My dear your rescue was inspirational! We caught everything on camera, even you bursting out of the water like a mermaid or water nymph brought to life. It was beautiful. You were beautiful but more importantly are you sure you're okay? That was some dive and I know Tokyo Bay is frigid cold even in the late spring."

"I'm fine," Aino yawned.

It was that that finally got the other man's attention. He turned to Aino, frowning, and crossed his arms.

"I think it best if we call it a day. You overexerted yourself the day before too, you won't be able to keep up with your schedule at this rate if you don't get some rest."

"I'm fine Artemis."

Artemis rolled his eyes as Aino yawned again and then swung his supercilious gaze back towards Keisuke.

"Is she free to go Detective or do you need her for questioning."

Keisuke frowned, debating. Normally he would allow civilians to go home and rest and then come back to the station for questioning later but Aino had failed to do that the last time he'd requested she dropped by and she tended to give him the slip more often than not. It would be better to take her in for questioning now rather than leave it up to chance.

His phone vibrated at that moment and Keisuke excused himself for a moment to check it, only to see it was a reminder for his rescheduled meeting with Ueda. He didn't think Ueda would be pleased if he had to reschedule again, legitimate reasons or not. Keisuke sighed but indicated they could drop by the station for questioning later.

"Preferably sooner, rather than later," Keisuke suggested, although his tone indicated it was more an order than anything.

Aino smiled sleepily at him and gave a little wave before allowing Artemis and Director Miyake to bustle her off the boat leaving Keisuke standing there and stewing in his own frustrations. He dragged a single hand over his face and then called his fellow officer over for instructions before taking off to meet Ueda.

If he couldn't question Aino, then he damn well wasn't going to miss his chance to speak with his only other lead.

#minako aino x kunzite #minako aino #sailor venus #kunzite #sailor moon #fanfiction #a relentless pursuit

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djinmer4 · 6 years ago

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Heart to Heart (Misnamed Soulmates AU)

Amanda doesn’t know what’s up with Kurt right now but she wishes she’d never started dating him in the first place. Despite the fact he broke up with her weeks ago, he seems to have taken an inordinate interest in her life. First, it was helping her fill out all her college applications, then offering to chauffeur her to and from school then finally it was that disastrous blind date he arranged for her and Bobby when he decided to spy on them all evening. Bobby had actually seemed pretty nice and possibly her type . . . except they’d pretty much both been rendered complete nervous wrecks by Kurt’s heavy-handed monitoring of their date. Amanda considered giving Bobby another chance . . . after she figured out a way to get Kurt off her back. This behavior was downright creepy. He’d been less concerned about her when they were dating; in hindsight, half his mind had always been on Kitty Pryde the whole time. Maybe she had turned him down and he was trying to get back into Amanda’s graces? Well, fat chance of that happening.

Amanda had stayed late tonight, half to finish writing her application essay, half to have an excuse not to let Kurt drive her home. She needed some time to think for herself and that wouldn’t happen in the car with his constant chatter. Although that might not have been the best idea.

“Well, look who’s walkin’ alone at night. The mutie-lover.”

God damn Duncan and his loser friends. The jock had kept quiet about what had happened, but everyone in Bayville knew the former Homecoming King had somehow managed to lose his scholarship and been expelled from college. He tried to play it off as him taking a gap year before transferring but rumor had it that whatever had happened had pretty much killed his prospects of joining any reputable institution. Of course, there were plenty of others who’d gladly take an American All-Star even with a ruined reputation. Whatever took Duncan, Amanda was going to avoid like the plague.

“If you must Duncan, you should know that Wagner and I broke up months ago.”

“Yeah, but everyone says he broke up with you, not the other way around.” He circled her like a starving wolf. “Not sure I wanna taint myself with the rat’s sloppy seconds, but you are easy on the eyes. Let me-”

Amanda didn’t wait for him to finish talking. She swung her bag to the side, cold-cocking one of them straight away. Unfortunately, there were five of them and only one of her, so even getting one of them out didn’t improve her odds significantly. Soon enough, they had her pinned down and were ripping her clothes off while Duncan unzipped his jeans. Then suddenly he stopped, and the leer fell off his face.

“You feel that? One good squeeze, and it’s all over for you Duncan.” Amanda couldn’t tilt her head the right way to see but that sounded like Kitty Pryde. “Now, unless the rest of you want to see him die, I suggest you all back off and leave.” The ones holding her down didn’t seem inclined to follow but Kitty must have done something because Duncan ordered them to grab the downed guy and bring him to the hospital in a high-pitched squeal. “They’re gone already! Let the fuck go of my heart!”

Kitty stepped out from behind the blond. “Bitch!” He turned and tried to hit her but he just passed through her . . . and hit the tree instead. There was the distinct cracking of bones breaking and Duncan howled. Kitty didn’t seem at all sympathetic and she boxed him in the ears, knocking him out. Then she came over to Amanda and held her hand out. Gratefully, the black teenager took her hand and let her rival pull her up.

They walked in silence for a while before Amanda cleared her throat. “I didn’t think the Professor allowed you to use your powers like that.”

“Yeah, well, the Professor’s not the one who’s walking into a warzone every day on his way to school. As long as I don’t actually maim or kill anyone, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And if he does find out, it means he invaded my mind without my permission, making him a hypocrite.”

She side-eyed the younger girl. “And you’re not worried about Duncan running off and turning his friends against you?”

“Duncan’s already gone and poisoned all of Bayville against us. If the choice is between getting raped and killed today versus it happening sometime in the future, then I make the choice that will let me live a little longer. I mean sure, if there were other people who’d get hurt if I didn’t back down right then, I’d reconsider. But if I hadn’t done anything, all that would happen is you’d get hurt instead and I don’t think that’s the better option.”

“Thanks, then.” There was a lull in the conversation then it was Kitty’s turn to break the silence. “Hey, um, I don’t know if this would be your jam or not. But if you like, I could give you some self-defense lessons. I mean, I’m no Logan but wouldn’t you feel better if you had some way to defend yourself against jerks like that?”

Amanda was skeptical. “Self-defense just for Duncan?” she asked dryly.

“Not just Duncan. People like him. Guys in general. The police, maybe.” And abruptly Amanda was reminded of the article one of her classmates had brought in that day for homework. About the young black mother who had just been fatally shot in what should have been a routine speeding stop.

“You know,” her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Self-defense isn’t going to do much good against a bullet.”

“Unless you can phase through them or can move them with kinesis, mutant power isn’t much good against a bullet. If Scott or Ms. Monroe get shot, they’d be in just as much trouble as a normal person.” Kitty took a deep breath and braced herself. “As Kurt pointed out, I can pass and walk away from all this any time I want to. No one just looking at me can tell I’m a Jew or a mutant or even an X-Woman. So the least I can do for people like you who don’t have that choice, I can teach you enough to get away or stall them so you can call for help.”

Amanda hated to admit it but it was surprisingly refreshing to hear someone like Kitty actually acknowledge her privilege. Most white people seemed to think if they acted color-blind, it was enough. “I accept. First lesson this Saturday morning?”

The brunette groaned. “Saturday afternoon, please! I don’t want to get up early on the weekend if I don’t have to.”

Kitty was a good teacher if nothing else. She hadn’t even made a fuss when Amanda had showed up in high heels and a miniskirt for the first lesson. “Barefoot today and you’ll probably want your gym clothes next time. But it’s good to practice in your every day wear too.”

Amanda had pulled out the ballet flats and sweats she’d packed. She wasn’t an idiot after all. But she did ask, “So, you’d be okay with me fighting like that?”

Kitty had answered dryly. “It’s not like a bunch of gangbangers or white terrorists are going to wait for you to change clothes. Work out clothes are good for learning basics and building up your stamina. But you haven’t really learned anything until you can use it out in the real world and not just a dojo.”

“Do you think I should buy some mace?”

“Every woman should buy mace if possible.” Amanda arched an eyebrow at that. “Or else what? It’s the woman’s fault if she ends up dead in a ditch?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, it isn’t her fault. But if we lived in a perfect world, neither of us would have to learn self-defense in the first place. If you’re going to choose not to use a certain defense that’s fine but make sure it’s your decision and not something that other people force on you.”

“Does that apply to guns as well?”

“Oh, uh . . . “

Kitty and Amanda shared no classes in school. Until Amanda had started dating Kurt, they hadn’t even known the other girl existed. But honestly? It was a relief to talk to someone she could relate with. Both of them were from upper-middle-class families, were only children with no other relatives nearby (in age or location) and both came from marginalized communities (Kitty was Jewish and a mutant while, Amanda was black). They didn’t share many interests (Kitty liked computer science and fashion while Amanda was more interested in history and literature) but it was such a relief to just vent to someone on occasion without having to explain why each little microaggression stung. Sure, the other Insitutue kids got the big picture when someone tried to attack her physically or blatant slurs were muttered in their presence but most of them missed the whole cultural insensitivity or erasure that also occurred. Kitty got it and could empathize with her.

The two of them had just finished up a session in the Danger Room and were cooling down, lying on the floor. Kitty had done some of her techno-mojo and there was a beautiful starscape above their heads. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”

Kitty rolled over to look at Amanda. “You can always ask. Can’t always promise that I’ll do or follow what you want.”

“It’s about . . . “ the older girl hesitated for a second. “It’s about Kurt.” Kitty didn’t seem the least bit disturbed and gestured that she should go on. “Do you think you could get him to back off a little?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kurt. He was less involved with my life when we were dating than he is now. It’s like I can’t do anything without him hovering over my shoulder.”

“I wondered why I was seeing less of him lately.”

“He didn’t talk about it to you?”

“I, um . . . “

Amanda ignored Kitty’s discomfort. “You know, I should have realized from the very beginning, that it was always going to be you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“No, seriously. Even our first date at the Sadie Hawkins dance, he spent the entire time staring at you until the dinosaurs showed up.”

“He did? I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah, you were talking to Lance. To be fair, he did try to hide it but every time his mask slipped, he looked pretty devastated.”

“That jerk! We’d agreed a month before then that he should try and get over me.” Kitty frowned, her heart-shaped face and plush lips turning it into a little girl pout. “Going on a date and spending the entire date staring at someone else doesn’t count as getting over anyone.”

“Hey, be nice,” admonished the black girl. “He’d only had a month to try to come to terms and the Sadie Hawkins was probably like rubbing salt into the wound. I don’t like the fact I was the rebound but I don’t think he meant to hurt me.”

“I don’t think Kurt really means to hurt anyone. It’s just not him. But he can be freakin’ insensitive at times.”

“I’m sure we all can be.” A pause while the two of them digested that statement, reflecting on their own peccadilloes. Amanda restarted the conversation. “But no, really, could he stop? Sometimes it’s helpful but the time he spied on my date with Bobby? That was downright creepy.”

“Ugh, yeah, I’ll tell him that. I think he’s trying to get you to forgive him but if he was spying on your date that goes a little too far.”

“I think I’d like to try again with Bobby, but only without the furry, blue chaperone. Seriously, what was he thinking? Why is he going so far anyway?”

Kitty shifted uncomfortably. “That . . . might be my fault.”

“How so?”

“Well . . . I told him I didn’t want to date him until you’d forgiven him.” Amanda sat up to look down at her teacher.

“Why’d you do something like that?”

“Because what he did was pretty terrible. Because he should do something to make up for what he had done to you. And finally, because it just wouldn’t feel right to start a relationship with him when you were still hurting from the break-up. Wouldn’t feel clean.”

“You’re not . . . you didn’t decide to help me to make up for what Kurt did, did you?”

Kitty narrowed crystal blue eyes at her. “Of course not, that would be silly. Kurt’s responsible for his own stupid actions. I helped because a bunch of retarded jocks decided to attack you.” She then reluctantly admitted. “On the other hand, if I hadn’t known you through Kurt I might not have offered to teach you self-defense. I would have escorted you home and that would have been the end of it.”

Amanda sat in silence for a few minutes while Kitty watched her. “I forgive him,” she said abruptly.

“What?”

“I said, I forgive him. I forgive Kurt for what he did to me.”

“You do? But why? He hasn’t really done anything to deserve forgiveness.”

“It’s not about what he’s done, it’s about the way I feel. And I don’t want to think that our friendship is contingent on me being mad at him. That would suck.”

“But-”

“You don’t think starting a relationship while I’m still upset is good. Well, I don’t think the X-Men only becoming friends with me because one of their friends screwed up and the rest of them need to make amends for him is any better. I want to think that our relationship is clean, that it’s based on liking each other and shared interests. Not you just putting up a friendly facade to make me feel better.”

“I guess. But are you sure about it?”

“Yes.” The black girl nodded her head, first hesitantly then did it again with more certainty. “I mean, I’m not going to forget what he’s done anytime soon. But he can stop trying to make up for it or whatever he thinks he’s been doing the past few months. You have my blessing or permission or whatever it is you need to start dating.”

“Thank you, Amanda.”

#misnamed soulmate au #Amanda Sefton #Kitty Pryde #nicest i'll ever be to amanda #rape implications #bechdel test

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cruelzy · 7 years ago

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movie

ao3 cross

pairing: bakugou/reader

“What?”

“I said,” you spoke offhandedly, eyes trailing the blonde ambling into the room with his mail. “We should go watch a movie on your day off.”

“Oh wouldn’t I just love that?” His voice was utterly drenched in sarcasm as he dropped the package, pressing a hand into the column of his neck with an irritated hiss. He sat without a semblance of grace, kicking the chair back.

“What? Why not?” You whined, begged, leaned over the table to invade his personal space. He batted away your flailing arms with a single hand, eyes never moving from the box he was opening.

“I don’t have time,” he grumbled.

“Please?” Your muffled voice came from underneath his palm. Peering through the gaps in his spread fingers your tone softened, lips pressing gently to the rough skin. “You’re always training.” The young hero barely had any time to do anything, and it was driving you nuts. “Spend some time with me?”

Bakugou glared down at you. You found yourself being lost in the tunnel of those blood red eyes--a familiar storm within them quietly brewing, calm for now but ready to rage when necessary.

He grunted a sigh, reluctantly submitting to your request. “Fine.”

You positively beamed, wiggling your eyebrows. “Yes! It’s a date then.”

“Not a date.”

“Shh,” You flicked his forehead. “Get into the spirit you brat.”

This’ll be nice, you thought to yourself as you jumped over the couch, dodging the chair that was thrown at you by the enraged hero. A nice, peaceful escape from the stress and excitement. After all, what could go wrong?

As it turned out, the right question to ask may have been ‘what could go right.’

Because everything was going wrong.

“We are not watching some dumb chick flick,” he eyed the poster of the movie with disdain.

The cashier looked nervously between the two of you from the booth, raising his hand slightly. “U-uh, you guys are holding up the l-line-”

“Shut up!” You both turned on him simultaneously, and he let out a terrified squeakclose to that of a dying animal.

You hissed a sigh through your teeth, turning back to Bakugou. “This is supposed to be a time to relax.”

“Sure.”

“Peace. Tranquility.”

“And?”

“What about loud explosions is relaxing to you?!”

His scowl deepened. “Do you even see who you’re talking to?”

“I-If i may cut in,” the cashier spoke again, quickly, rushing over the words lest the two of you decided to turn dark stares upon him again. “How about a c-compromise? There’s the n-newest comedy out?”

You paused. That might actually not be that bad. You turned hopeful eyes to your companion as he groaned for the third time that day.

“Fine,” that seemed to be his favourite word for handling the exhaustion that came with you, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The cashier smiled, handing you the movie tickets with your receipt. “There you go! I hope you enjoy your date!”

Bakugou snatched the tickets with a bit more force than necessary. “Not a date.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the cashier’s flabbergasted expression and rushing to follow after his long strides. “Don’t worry--he’s just shy. Have a good day!”

The movie itself, quite plainly, sucked.

It was corny--and not intentionally so, but the kind that was trying way too hard with every bad pun. The row in front you seated a woman whose extravagant hair-do was attempting to shoot into the ceiling, and consequently you had to find creative ways to maneuver your head so that you could even see the screen. A couple elementary school kids across from you were snickering at everything. And you meant everything.

You had to physically hold down Bakugou’s hand from blasting them through the wall.

Bakugou himself only got more annoyed as time passed--though you think that attributed more to the people around than the movie itself. He seemed pretty impassive on the film, apart from the occasional smirk whenever the main character would get hurt for comedic effect. Figures that would be what he found funny.

Your own mood increasingly soured with each second. Soon you lost interest completely, the screen becoming a collage of flickering pictures and background noise.

By the time the movie had ended, you had a stiff back from the seats, a headache from the rowdiness, and a strong temporary dislike for children.

“That was dumb,” Bakugou said, cut clear and straight to the point as the two of you walked down the sidewalk. You agreed.

“It was. I always seem to mess everything up yeah?” You mused absentmindedly that you hadn’t seen the stars in a while - what with the light pollution in your neighbourhood. It was nice to admire the twinkling lights for even a moment.

When you glanced back down, Bakugou was looking at you as if you had just said you were planning to go fly to the moon.

“What are you on about now?” He narrowed his crimson eyes at you in incomprehension, small wrinkles cresting by his eyebrows, his mouth twisted down in a familiar yet entirely alien gesture.

“You said you didn’t want to come, but I pushed anyway,” you laughed. “Right?” The laughter wouldn’t stop, and soon you found that words were falling from your lips without passing through your brain first. “Every time we try something like this, it fails. I should have learned my lesson by now, but I guess not. Looks like I’m even more stubborn than you.”

He stopped still, the scuffling of his shoes on the gravel fading to a silence that echoed down the empty street. You didn’t notice, already caught up in the white noise that buzzed and pounded inside your head.

“I don’t know why I even try anymore. Is it pity why you still tolerate me?” you rambled, choking on the laughter that had turned to gasping convulsions of giggles. Self deprecation twisted inside you, burrowed deep, writhing. “Not that I’d be very surprised-”

You tripped.

It wasn’t of your own volition, more a side effect of the hand that had suddenly grabbed onto the back of your shirt and pulled. The collar tightened around the front of your throat momentarily as you tried not to stumble.

Bakugou released you once you were firmly put back by his side, making you realize you had begun walking without him. When had he stopped moving?

“Baku-?”

“First,” he made abrupt eye contact with you, his storm fully raging now, yet somehow still managing to look almost bored. You couldn’t break the gaze--it successfully planted you to the ground, preventing you from leaving whether you wanted to or not. “Stop with the waterworks.”

You blinked owlishly, mute in confusion, before you slowly registered the wetness on your cheeks. You touched a hand cautiously to the skin in disbelief. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying. Your mind further blanked when a coarse thumb wiped underneath your left eye, taking some of the moisture with it.

“You’re being more of an idiot than usual. How are you responsible for the cashier recommending us that waste of time? Or for the morons in the theater?”

You couldn’t find a rebuttal. “I-”

“Quiet,” he growled, yet the caressing motion of his thumb on your cheek contradicted the harsh statement. “You’re messing up that damn makeup you wailed and fussed over this morning.” You flushed in embarrassment, knowing you over dressed for this simple outing. You couldn’t help it. You had just been so…happy.

The blonde’s utter disregard of sugar coating the ridiculousness of what you were doing cut through your emotional fog, and you sighed.

“You’re…right,” You murmured, tugging at the end of your shirt absentmindedly. “I’m sorry.”

You made to move, already eager to get back home. You were exhausted, the shoes you had chosen to wear uncomfortable and squeezing the life out of your toes, makeup no doubt smudged. Your bed was calling to you, inviting you in its warm embrace.

“Didn’t I just say to shut up?”

Perplexity and soon annoyance flooded you at his words, and your head snapped up, ready to lay it on him thick. Your mouth opened but any thoughts fell on a noiseless tongue as he slid his hand to the back of your neck, unnaturally warm against your clammy skin, the pads of his fingers pushing you closer abruptly.

His mouth met yours and the world fell away.

Against anything you ever would have predicted, it was soft at first. He was gentle even. (That’s it, that’s the sign, you must have been hallucinating, this is Bakugou you were talking about.) He pressed a short kiss to the corner of your mouth, once, twice, barely there, hovering. The third time he noticeably lingered, as if savouring the contact, fingers grazing the baby hairs at the base of your neck.

There was a lull, a split second where nothing was happening at all, merely shared breaths and uncertain hesitancies. You swallowed shakily, letting out a shocked whisper of his name from your lips onto his.

The moment snapped and then his hand was suddenly tangled in your hair, and he was kissing you. You swear you felt sparks, bursts of heat running along your skin--and there was a good chance that it wasn’t your imagination, steam rising in your peripheral from him. He took advantage of your slightly parted lips--open from the words you never got to say--and dove deeper, pressed his free hand into the arch of your spine so that he could close the distance between you forcefully. You tried to think, comprehend what was going on, but anything other than the feel of his hands on your skin, the desperation curling in your chest, the taste of him was shoved to the back of your mind.

It was over all too soon, and you opened your eyes (opened, when had you even closed them?) to see him studying you with an unreadable expression. He licked his lips briefly, causing your heart to stutter, before he turned wordlessly.

“Terrible date,” he spoke, but his words had no bite as he began to walk once more. You stood for another second, speechless, before a grin spread contagiously across your face.

“You admitted it was a date!” You yelled as you ran to catch up with him, nearly face-planting from your unsteady feet.

He snorted.

“I knew it!”

#boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader

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narisjournal-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Kicks

Rob Benedict x Pregnant!Reader (Platonic)

Featuring Louden Swain (briefly), Matt Cohen and Richard Speight Jr.

Indulgent, soppy, fluffy fluff

Description: Upset that your pregnancy seems to be affecting your social life, missing your husband and driven crazy by your hormones, you are touched that Rob ditches the others to take care of you.

Warnings: Pregnancy stuff, I have never been pregnant :( so details may be inaccurate. Language.

A/N: A few of my friends are due this month and pregnancy is on my mind for reasons. Match that with my husband being on a night shift and watching Kings of Con and R2M panels to keep me happy and voila! This fic was born. It’s soppy. It’s fluffy. It’s pure daydream. Let me know what you think. I’m also a sucker for platonic hand holding, cuddles, spooning and kisses (perhaps naively). That’s why it’s indulgent.

Having a front row seat at the Saturday night special was great – it meant you got the best view of the stage, you got to see your good friends performing in all their glory and you could hear every word. You got to see rockstar Robbie close-up, and you could catch his eye every now and then when he sought you out in the crowd. A few times he gave you a little nod or a wink, which made you feel special. You were here on your own, so you needed to be reminded you weren’t actually alone.

Rob was great at that. He was the best friend you could ask for right now. He was so supportive about everything and he knew it was tough on you being away from your husband.

The only thing you hadn’t thought of was how uncomfortable the vibrations would be through your protruding belly. It was like shockwaves through your body. You got used to it after a bit, but wouldn’t do it again. Not until after the baby was born.

She seemed to like it, though. Maybe it was the music she recognised, or even Rob’s voice as he sang the beautiful, emotive words to ‘She Waits.’ You could feel her shifting, like she was responding to the raw emotion pouring out of the man. Or maybe that was you. She always knew when you were emotional.

You placed a hand on your belly, over her tiny foot where it pushed against you from the inside. Tears spilled down your face as you watched Rob’s shaking hands, his eyes closed against the memories that the song stirred up.

As you embarked on this journey of parenthood, you had many anxieties and hopes rattling around your brain. Having got closer to Rob and heard him speak about his father and the pain it still caused him made you determined that your child would never have to go through that level of disappointment and abandonment. With your loyal husband and your friends surrounding you, you were confident she would always feel loved and safe.

The song drew to a close and Rob opened his eyes, looking out across the crowd.

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice still shaky. ‘I love you.’ Then his eyes searched the front row and fell on you. He noticed your hand and the tears and furrowed his brow.

‘You ok?’ he mouthed.

You smiled and nodded, wiping your tears away. The pregnancy hormones meant you were over-emotional. It wasn’t unusual for you to be crying, but he still made sure you were ok every time.

You readjusted in your seat, straightening your back. It was beginning to hurt, and you were glad it was a seated event.

‘Matt,’ Rob called from the stage. ‘Will you come back onstage to help me with this next one?’

The crowd cheered and Matt appeared with a big smile on his face and that crazy energy he always seemed to bring with him.

‘Matt Cohen, everybody,’ Rob continued, holding his hands out to present him.

Rob took a few steps closer to Matt and put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned in and said something in his ear, nodding over in your direction. Matt fixed his eyes on you and nodded understanding.

You smiled, but couldn’t help blushing a little. Did they have to make such a fuss? You could look after yourself.

‘This song is called ‘Mama’s Jam!’’ Rob yelled into the microphone, and the kick drum began to beat while Billy started up the guitar riff.

Again, the shockwaves went right through you, but this time it made you feel a little nauseous. You had to close your eyes and hold onto your stomach again. The baby writhed and kicked, almost like she was dancing.

You held her for a minute, concentrating on your breathing. The nausea passed and you opened your eyes, smiling. She really was dancing.

You kept your hand on your belly and swayed to the music.

Matt was running through the central aisle and circled round, making his way to you. He crouched down in front of you with his hand on your arm.

‘You ok, sweetheart? Robbie’s worried,’ he said into your ear. You laughed.

‘Yeah. I’m ok.’

He looked at your hand on your stomach. ‘She kickin’?’

‘She’s dancing,’ you smiled. You took his hand and placed it on your belly where she was kicking.

His face broke out in a broad smile.

You leaned in to speak into his ear.

‘I think I’m gonna go wait in the green room. The vibrations are getting a bit too much. Tell him don’t worry.’

Matt nodded and pulled you in, planting a kiss on your forehead. He then turned and took a run up, jumping back onto the stage. As you stood and started to walk away, he turned and blew a kiss to you. You blew one back with a smile.

Rob continued singing, but watched as you left.

You sighed relief as you slipped into the green room and enjoyed the quiet for the remainder of the show. You text your husband and told him how your little girl had been dancing and enjoying the music. He was moved and text you back straight away, wishing he didn’t have to work and could have been there with you.

The doors burst open and Matt came in first, walking over to you straight away.

‘That was fuckin’ beautiful,’ he said, hopping up to sit on the table beside you. He put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into an awkwardly positioned hug. ‘You feeling better?’

‘Yeah,’ you said simply. ‘Sorry. I hate missing out, but I thought I might actually throw up at one point.’ You shivered.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Matt answered, one hand on your shoulder, one scrolling through his phone.

You both looked up as the doors opened again and Rob came in followed by Stephen, Mike and Billy.

Rob jogged over to you.

‘Hey, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ you said, though you felt your throat tighten for some reason. You had to really try not to cry again.

He knew, though. His face softened into a smile and he rubbed your arm.

‘Hey,’ he said, then kissed you on the cheek. ‘Matt said the vibrations were a bit uncomfortable?’ You nodded. ‘Sorry,’ he added, pulling you into a hug.

Matt slid his phone in his pocket and joined in, hugging you from the other side.

Billy closed the gap in front of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You laughed. ‘I love you guys,’ you said. ‘But I can’t breathe.’

They let you go, Billy messing up your hair with a smirk, then bounding off to join the others.

The doors opened again and Rich announced his entrance by saying ‘Party time!’

Everybody laughed and Matt hopped down from the table.

‘Everybody in? I know a place,’ Rich continued.

Rob still held onto your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. He knew as well as you did what would come next.

Rich looked at you. ‘Comin’?’

You raised an eyebrow at him. Every time, you went over this. You looked down and indicated your belly. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

‘Well obviously you’re not drinking,’ he said. ‘You can have pepsi. Come! Hang out with us. It’s not the same without you.’

‘Rich,’ Rob tried.

‘I can’t have pepsi,’ you said, trying to keep your voice level. ‘Caffeine.’

‘Oh,’ Rich said. ‘Water then. Whatever, just come and hang out. We love you.’

You sighed. I his own special way he was trying to be nice and make you feel included. But hormones and Rich’s ‘own special way’ didn’t mix all too well.

‘Rich,’ Matt said. ‘If she doesn’t wanna come, she doesn’t. Don’t be a dick,’ he added, shoving him by the shoulder.

Rich laughed. ‘Can’t help it. It’s my name.’

Unfortunately the hormones stirred up in your chest and you felt suddenly very angry. Why was it such a difficult concept to understand? They all had wives who’d been pregnant. They should get it.

‘I DO want to come,’ you said through gritted teeth. ‘But I’m fucking pregnant. I’ll probably vomit on your shoes.’

Rich held his hands up as if in surrender. ‘Hey, woah. Ok, hormones. Keep a safe distance everybody,’ he laughed.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ you said under your breath.

Rob moved in closer to you. ‘Rich, come on. Do you have to?’

He shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

‘Come on, give her some space,’ Matt added and the two of them went to join the others on the other side of the room. You could hear their laughter and loud chatter and made you even more sad you couldn’t go out with them.

‘Sorry,’ Rob said, sitting down on the chair next to you and rubbing your arm again. ‘You ok?’

You sighed. ‘Stop asking me that, I’m fine,’ you snapped and instantly felt bad.

‘So, she was kicking?’ Rob said, apparently unphased by your tone.

You nodded. You couldn’t help but smile. ‘She likes your voice, Rob.’

He beamed. ‘You’ve taught her well already. You’re gonna be an awesome mom.’

The tears streamed down your face and you rolled your eyes.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ you said, angry at your over-emotional state.

Rob chuckled. ‘You wanna head up to bed? You must be exhausted.’

You shook your head.

‘No?’ Rob tilted his head in question.

‘I wanna hang out with you guys.’

‘I thought you said…’ he started, but tailed off.

You huffed. ‘Whatever. It’s fine. You go on. I’ll just be in my room being boring.’ He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued. ‘Go on. I’m keeping you from your friends.’

He frowned at you. ‘How about I stay and take care of you?’

You groaned. ‘I don’t need you to take care of me!’ you blurted out, louder than you had intended. Harsher too. You wanted to cry again. He was being kind and sweet and you were yelling at him. Fuck hormones.

Maybe it was better for you to be alone.

He exhaled sharply. ‘No, I know you don’t need…’

Rich interrupted by calling over. ‘You coming Bobbo? Car’s here.’

‘One second,’ Rob murmered to you and sprang up, dashing over to Rich. You stood up too and started to head in the other direction towards your room. You glanced back, a pang of guilt making your step waver.

Rob had a hand on Rich’s shoulder, saying something quietly to him. He glanced back over at you.

You continued to walk away. Whatever happened, you were gonna feel upset, you thought. That’s how it worked now. It pissed you off you seemed to have no control over how you felt.

So when you heard his footsteps jogging up to you and him calling your name softly, you turned and snapped. ‘What?’

‘I’m staying with you.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘I know. You don’t need me. It’s purely selfish. I wanna spend time with you. I feel like we haven’t had the chance for a proper catch up.’

‘Well, I’m a hormonal mess so it won’t be much fun,’ you said, starting to walk away from him.

He followed. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I’ve been through this twice, remember? You can yell at me and I’ll still give you a back rub. So bring it.’ You turned to look at him. His piercing blue eyes held such sincerity in them that you thought you might cry again. He smiled softly and shrugged. ‘I’m that kind of guy.’

‘Someone already wrote that song,’ you mumbled. He laughed. You looked down at his hand and he slipped it into yours.

You carried on towards your room hand in hand. He let you lead and didn’t force conversation. He just let you be.

When you got to the door, you fumbled a bit with the key, dropping it and struggling to slot it in the keyhole for a few minutes. He didn’t offer to help, which would have frustrated you more. He just waited patiently.

Eventually you got in. Rob went straight to the coffee maker and put the water on for camomile tea.

You sank down onto the bed and checked your phone. Your husband had text again saying he missed you. You burst into tears.

Rob came rushing over and sat beside you on the bed, throwing his arms around you.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘I miss him,’ you sobbed. You groaned at how pathetic you felt.

‘I know. Call him,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

You wiped your tears and nodded. ‘I wanna get comfy first.’

‘Of course,’ he said.

You got changed into your pyjamas in the bathroom and came back through to find a steaming cup of camomile tea on the bedside unit. Rob stood holding your pregnancy pillows. He nodded to the bed wordlessly.

You lay down on your side and he gently wrapped the pillows around you. You adjusted them accordingly and he pulled a blanket over you. Then he settled on the bed next to you and handed you your phone.

‘Thank you,’ you smiled.

As you dialled to facetime your husband, Rob pulled the blanket down a bit and your pyjama top up slightly. Warm hands connected with your sore lower back and he gently massaged.

There were very few people you would let touch you this intimately, especially with all the stretch marks on your exposed skin. But Rob, you trusted. His thumbs rubbed in gentle circles, soothing the aches and pains.

‘Hi, honey,’ you said, warmth flooding through you when you saw your husband’s face.

‘You look comfy,’ he said with a smile.

‘Yeah. Rob’s here,’ you said, lifting the phone over your head to get him in shot. He paused his backrub briefly to wave.

‘Good, I’m glad you’ve got someone with you. Thanks Rob,’ he continued.

‘Hey, any time,’ Rob said.

‘How was the show?’

‘Great,’ you answered.

‘Awesome,’ Rob agreed.

‘Robbie was awesome, as ever. The kid liked it.’

‘That’s so cute,’ your husband beamed. As if on cue, she kicked at the sound of her Daddy’s voice. You giggled.

‘She says hi,’ you smiled. Rob placed his hand on your belly to feel her. She kicked him and he laughed.

‘You guys have got a strong character here,’ he beamed.

‘She takes after her mother,’ your husband said. ‘Hey, can I have a word with Rob?’ he added.

You passed him the phone and he took it off face time and loudspeaker.

‘Hey,’ he said.

While they chatted, probably having the ‘please take care of her’ conversation, you drank down some of your drink. The warmth pooled in your belly and felt soothing. Except then you needed to pee. You got up and went to the bathroom. When you were done, you padded back to the bed, rubbing at your lower back. It was feeling better, but still ached.

You climbed back into position amongst the pillows and Rob automatically helped arrange them how you had them as he finished up his conversation.

‘Yeah, of course. You got it. I’ll put her back on.’

He handed you the phone back.

‘You get some rest, now honey,’ your husband said. Rob resumed his back massage and you relaxed into position.

‘mmm-hmmm. I miss you.’

‘I miss you too,’ he added. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too. Night night.’ You hung up.

Rob lay on his side behind you, his hand resting gently on your hip now. You finished the rest of your tea and lay down properly on your side.

‘Thank you Rob. I’m sorry I was horrible to you. You’re such a sweetheart.’

‘You weren’t. It’s fine. Are you kidding? It’s a pleasure.’

Your eyelids began to droop. The baby shifted and pushed against where Rob’s hand was resting. You both giggled and he rubbed your belly, playing with your daughter.

He moved his hand to the front of your belly, where she kicked him again.

You sighed happily. Rob reached up and moved a strand of hair out of your face, running his fingers softly down your cheek. He began to sing ‘Honeybee’, his hand softly stroking over your belly.

The soothing sound of his song was beautiful. Your daughter stilled, calming and settling down to the lullaby.

Surrounded by warmth, love and joy, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, Rob cuddled up to your back. After a while, he kissed your cheek and went to stand up.

‘I’ll come see you first thing,’ he whispered.

You groaned. ‘Stay,’ you muttered.

He paused. ‘Sure,’ he added, then resumed his position at your back. He reached over and turned the lamp off.

‘Goodnight, beautiful,’ he whispered.

‘Night,’ you mumbled into the pillow.

Everything: @afanofmanystuffs @trashforwinchesters @quixoticcat @greenappleeyes @yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend @ironiccasifer @natasha-cole

Rob/Chuck: @tas898 @destielschild @girl-next-door-writes @nekodresden85 @winchestergirl-13 @a-banana-for-your-thoughts @jelly-beans-and-gstrings

#rob benedict #rob benedict x reader #rob benedict x pregnant!reader #rob benedict rpf #rpf #pregnant!reader #pregnancy #fluff #rob x reader #rob x you #rob benedict x you #rob x pregnant!reader #supernatural rpf

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babyshawwn · 7 years ago

Text

Bad Temper

MASTERLIST

Requested: Jealous Shawn. I exaggerated to write the story.

Word count: 3k.

“I think this might actually be it!” I said, folding the last box together. I ran my fingers through my unwashed hair while breathing out heavily in exhaustion.

To be honest, I thought this would never end. No matter where I looked or what door in the house I opened, there had always been more boxes to start on.

More things for the kitchen, clothes I didn’t know where to put and tons of guitar pecks I highly doubted Shawn needed.

But at last, after what seemed like an eternity, I had finally unpacked the last one. We were done.

“What?” Shawn yelled from another room, fumbling around with his precious guitars as always.

Shawn swayed through the door and into the living room shortly after, curious to what I was saying just a second ago. His smile was wide and his curls falling into his eyes. Standing behind me, he let his chin rest on my shoulder while gently pressing his warm lips against my steamy neck.

“The last box.” I told him. “We’re officially moved in.”

“Well, that only took around four months.” He laughed warmly, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my back further against his broad chest.

“And whose fault is that?” I fired back jokingly, tilting my head to the side to catch Shawn’s stare. Shawn chewed on his bottom lip as I raised my eyebrow at him.

Shawn had barely been home since we moved in and I practically had to do most of the unpacking, decorating and furniture assembling all by myself.

To be fair, Brian had been a great help too. Coming over several times a week to help me get this place looking like somewhat of a home, dropping by with short notice whenever I needed help to hang up a shelf or carry something heavy up the stairs.

“Hey…” Shawn pouted, his mouth nipping to my neck. “I’ve helped out too.”

“Laughing over facetime doesn’t count.”

“In my world it does.” He protested, placing a kiss or two on my skin. “I was cheering you on.”

“You were mocking me!”

“Well, you did have an awfully hard time putting together a freaking table.” He laughed, his lips vibrating against my tender skin.

“Excuse me.” I began while raising my eyebrow at him. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

I tried to keep a straight face, pretending to be annoyed with him, but as soon as the familiar and rather cheeky smirk spread on Shawn’s lips, I couldn’t hold back the laughter.

Shawn’s hands slid down to my hips as he turned me to face him. He lowered his eyes to get a proper look at me while his hands caressed my back.

“You love me.” He smiled, tilting his head to the side while his puppy eyes fell on me. I rolled my eyes at him, giggling slightly at his childish behaviour.

“Well…”

“You love me.” He pouted once again. “Say it.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked him, raising my eyebrow.

Shawn’s tongue slipped across his pink lips in a rather teasing way while his eyes glued onto mine. He leaned forward to reach my ear while his thumb slid down my neck.

“Oh, you know what.” He breathed, his lips brushing slightly against my earlobe.

His hands moved down my body while reaching the curve of my hips and I knew he was going to tickle me if I gave him a chance to.

“Don’t you dare, Mendes.” I warned him, gabbing for his hands to remove them. Quickly, Shawn intertwined our fingers together, letting his thumb stroke my knuckles.

“Then say it.”

“I love you.” I whispered back, giving in to his request quite easily.

“Good girl.” He laughed, his thumb lifting my chin to expose my lips fully to his.

Shawn’s loving eyes met mine as he leaned forward to close the gap between our lips. While attaching his lips to mine, my fingers tugged into his messy curls to deepen our kiss.

It felt strange to me on some level. We lived together now but I rarely got to see him. Shawn’s tour was much longer this time and I only got to see him a few days before he had to leave again. Most of the time, he was gone and I was alone. At times, it felt like I was living with a ghost.

To be completely honest, I had been spending more time with his friends than him lately. Shawn had asked his boys to help me out with the move and I’d been grateful for that, no doubt. I wasn’t really aware of how much work went into moving and getting properly settle and I definitely didn’t know moving into a house would be such a pain in the ass. Especially not when you’re doing it alone.

I was lucky to have had Brian around as much as he had been. The other boys went to university rather far away, but Brian had cleared his schedule most times to help out. Driving from store to store with me to pick up the furniture, endless nights of painting and being the middle man whenever Shawn and I couldn’t agree what colour the lamp in the living room should be.

It felt sad that Shawn couldn’t be here to help out with these things, that we couldn’t do them together as a couple, but I was grateful Brian had been there for parts of it, otherwise I would have never been able to finish.

It had been hard work and sometimes I had been ready to throw in the towel and call it quits, but the house was finally coming together and it started to feel like a proper home. A home Shawn and I was going to share with each other, a place we belonged.

Shawn pulled back from our kiss and let his forehead rest against mine while giving my hands a little squeeze. He rubbed his nose against the tip of mine as a warmth spread in my stomach from feeling him close to me.

“I did tell you Andrew was coming later, right?” His hands folded around mine. “I know it’s going to be pretty late, but it’s the only time we could find.”

“Yeah, you did.” I mumbled, planting a small peck on his lips. “Helping you pack for the European part of the tour, right?”

“Yes, he’s strangely good at packing.” Shawn laughed, shaking his head lightly.

“And you wouldn’t be able to get through without him.” I joking, sticking my tongue out at him.

If only Andrew knew how much I had his back when he wasn’t around.

“I’d be pretty doomed, wouldn’t I?” Shawn admitted with a laughter. The warmth in his eyes forced chills down my body as tip toed to kiss his forehead tenderly.

“Probably.”

I untangled myself from Shawn’s arms, kissing his cheeks before reaching for the car keys on the counter next to us.

“You’re going out now?” Shawn asked, wrinkling his forehead. His eyes fell on the watch on his wrist. “It’s like nine.”

I was already putting my shoes on and tying the laces while gazing over my shoulder to nod at his question. I began looking for my favourite blue jacket, still not entirely sure where I had put our coats.

“Yeah, I told you.” I said, putting the jacket on. “Brian needs help with his exam.”

“Again?” Shawn asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “He needs help this late?”

Oh god, here we go again with the attitude.

Sure, Shawn could get jealous at times. I wasn’t a saint either when it came to that, but he had never made such a fuss about me going to Brian’s. It had never been an issue before but now he seemed to question me whenever I went to see Brian.

“Is that suddenly a problem?” I responded, a bit confused about his reaction.

Shawn shrugged his shoulders carelessly as if it didn’t matter, but he barely looked me in the eyes. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, letting out a silent sigh at his behaviour.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Shawn mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “I just feel like you would rather spend your time with Brian than with me.” Shawn stated sourly, allowing his eyes to fall on mine.

“Well, that’s partly your own fault, isn’t it?” I hissed back at him, fuming with anger. “It’s not my fault you’re always gone. Brian is one of the only people I know here.”

The heated words that blurred from my mouth wasn’t entirely fair and I knew that, I even regretted them as soon as I’d said them aloud. Sometimes, I got upset with how little he seemed to trust, not only me, but his best friend as well.

And to be honest, I had no clue why he was freaking out over this. It had never been a problem in the past.

“Oh okay…” Shawn replied, rolling his eyes at me. “That was a pretty low blow.”

The tension in the room had already gotten sour and maybe it was because I felt rather exhausted from these past few months of stressing around but I couldn’t control the frustration that began pumping in my veins.

“What is your fucking problem, Shawn?” I yelled frustrated at him. “I’m helping your best friend with his exam. Because he spent all this time helping me out with our house. You know, since you weren’t here to do it. The least I can fucking do is help him with an exam that’s freaking him out.”

“And you’ve just hated spending time with him, haven’t you?” Shawn shouted back, throwing his hands in the air to cope with the anger. “You two sure did look extremely cosy when I facetimed you.”

“Oh come on, Shawn! Of course, I enjoy hanging out with Brian, he’s your best friend. If I remember correctly, you wanted us to be close. You wanted us to be friends.” I exclaimed, rubbing my palms angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“

“I know what you meant and that thought is disgusting.” I fired back, completely shooting down his accusations.

Shawn was really getting to me right now and I had to watch out that I didn’t let myself go too far. I tended to have a habit of saying things I didn’t mean whenever I was angry, I didn’t want to go there with him.

And Shawn, well. Shawn had always had a bad temper.

“But is it true?” Shawn asked, raising his sour voice at me.

His question was beyond ridiculous and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing sarcastically at his stupid claim. Frustrated with him, I rolled my eyes while shaking my head.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Shawn yelled, smashing his palm into the counter of our kitchen.

“Hey!” I screamed back at him. “Calm down, will you?” I felt the heat raise in my cheeks while the anger continued to pump around in my veins.

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He warned, pointing his finger towards me.

Shawn and I were pretty good at winding each other up at times. Our temper, especially Shawn’s temper, sometimes blew up over nothing and sadly, we let it get the best of us.

We rarely got into fights, but when we did, a wallet or a phone charger might get thrown across the room. Never to hurt or hit one another, but as an escape for our anger. I had become better at walking away when I knew I’d say something that might hurt him, Shawn was still working on that part.

“This is ridiculous, Shawn!”

“Well, I’m glad my feelings are stupid to you.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth, please.” I replied quickly. “I hate when you do that.”

In compartment to Shawn’s, my voice was too calm for a heated conversation like this. I wasn’t really sure how I had calmed myself down as much. That being said, my body was still vibrating with anger.

“I don’t want you to see Brian now.” Shawn stated, taking the keys out of my hands.

“Too bad.” I took back the keys before Shawn could push be off. “Because I’m going.”

“If you leave then don’t bother coming back.”

“Grow up, Shawn. How is it fair that you’re having Andrew over now and I can’t go help out Brian?”

“Because I’m not fucking into Andrew!”

“I’m not fucking into Brian either for fuck sake!” I screamed back at him.

Our faces were only inches apart and we could feel the air on each other’s lips when we were screamed at one another. Shawn’s fists were shut and his jaw clenched to cope with the anger he was feeling.

“I can’t believe you’re going to pick Brian over me!” Shawn snapped, his body tense as ever.

“Why can’t you just trust me?!”

“Why can’t you just be fucking faithful and not go fuck one of my best friends?” Shawn shouted with full force at my face.

I folded my hands, allowing my nails to dig into my palms as I tried the best I could to not punch Shawn in the fucking face. The words he was throwing at my face was really crossing a line and I wasn’t sure I could prevent myself from blowing up in his face right about now.

“You are seriously not accusing me of fooling around with Brian, are you?” I hissed back at him, my eyes narrowing him down.

I felt an uncomfortable cold rush down my spine as I chewed on the inside of my cheek just by the thought of cheating on Shawn. I honestly didn’t understand how Shawn had convinced himself that I could ever be anything but faithful to him. How he could possibly believe that Brian would ever fuck him over like that.

I had promised Shawn over and over again that I would never fool his heart nor would tool with his feelings. I had promised him that I would never take advantage of his love like I knew others had done before. I had always, and on our first date years ago, promised him that I would never leave him burnt. I always made sure his heart was nothing but safe in my hands and I had never given him a reason to doubt that.

Shawn throwing lame accuses like this towards me? It was massively insulting to both Brian and I.

We would never go behind his back like that, we would never string him along. I didn’t understand how he could even have these thoughts in his mind? Brian and I were mates, nothing else.

But being mates meant helping each other out whenever it’s needed and with all that Brian had done these past couple of months, not only for me but for Shawn as well, the fucking least I could do was help him get through his exams.

Brian was dreading them. Having full-on anxiety about studying because he feared failing and maybe if Shawn had paid more attention to his friend rather than using all his energy on seeing things that weren’t there, he might have noticed how much Brian was struggling.

“You know what?” “I told Shawn, hardening my tone towards him. “I’m not even going to comment on that. If that’s what you think, fine. I’m not going to stay here and listen to this a second longer.”

“You’re going to Brian’s, then?”

“Yes, Shawn. I’m going to Brian’s.” I snapped, turning my back towards Shawn. “At least he doesn’t scream at my face.”

“Fucking hell, y/n.” Shawn shouted after me, but I continued walking towards the door with the car keys in my hand.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded from behind. I looked over my shoulder and my jaw dropped as I stared blank at Shawn.

He had punched the wall.

Shawn had punched a hole in the fucking wall. The bloody idiot punched the wall.

Shawn was muttering swearwords under his breath, shaking his hand in bare pain from the knock. This thumb was rubbing his sore knuckles, his nose wrinkling in pain. I hurried back into the room, my mouth gaping wide open.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, pulling an expression filled with pain every other second.

“You fucking idiot.” I told him, taking his hand in mine. “What the hell was that for?”

Shawn’s hand had already begun swelling and certain spots were already turning purple. I allowed my thumb to run across his sore knuckles as soft as possible while he groaned in pain. His fingers flickered in pain as I took a better look at his hand.

“That fucking hurts.”

“Oh really?” I gave him, moving my head to meet his hard stare.

We both stared at each other for a couple of seconds, full-on anger in our eyes but then, we both burst into laughter. It was unexpected but it forced the frustration to leave our tense bodies. We knew it wasn’t funny but either of us could control it.

For a moment, we just laughed. We laughed all the anger away until we finally breathed out properly and locked our eyes together again.

“You’re a bloody idiot.” I whispered, my fingers brushing softly against Shawn’s hurting hand. “You know that, don’t you?”

Shawn didn’t reply but he nodded shamefully at my words.

I hurried to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, wrapping a towel around it and then, swaying back to put it on Shawn’s hand. He made a face as I pressed the ice against his fingers.

Shawn tilted his head to meet my eyes while his free fingers brushing softly against my heated cheeks. I looked up to find him staring as I shook my head at him.

“Honestly Shawn, what the hell were you thinking?” I whispered, holding his hand with the ice on. It probably wasn’t going to help the swelling much, but maybe it would prevent it from bruising too much.

Shawn stayed silent for a second, his eyes darting to the floor while forcing a deep breath into his lungs. It didn’t take long for his cheeks to become heavily flushed. He was embarrassed, I could tell.

“I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have acted like that and I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” He whispered, his fragile voice cracking slightly at the end. I sighed deeply and shut my eyes for a second.

“I just don’t understand, Shawn.” I told him, shaking my head at the situation. “You know I love you. I would never-“

“I know, I know. I’m sorry I even said things like that. I just… I feel so guilty sometimes. Leaving you to yourself most of the time, having to do everything on your own. It feels like all I’m doing is leaving you behind or saying goodbye or missing out on your life and…” Shawn’s words blurred from his mouth and he struggled to breathe properly. “It scares me. It really scares me.” He admitted, his eyes darting around the room.

“But why? I’ve told you a million times that I’m okay with it. As long as I get to be with you, we’ll always figure all of that out.”

“Because what if you suddenly change your mind?” He asked me, fear floating his face. “What if you wake up one day and decide it’s not enough anymore? Then you have all of these wonderful people like Brian around you who’s there all the time. Who doesn’t have to leave you or say goodbye. Who can give you attention whenever you want it and who’s there on a daily basis. Who is always here when something good or bad happens to get you through. It scares me. It scares to a point where I can’t breathe.”

As tears began filling his vulnerable eyes, Shawn’s voice died over and he wasn’t able to finish his sentence. My heart dropped to my stomach as I felt an uncomfortable lump growing in my throat.

To be honest, his confession felt like a punch to my guts. I embraced his sore hand while using the other to remove a tear stuck on his bottom lip.

“Baby, look at me.” I said, finding his upset eyes. “I want you, Shawn. I could never find anyone who loves me better than you do. And I could never love anyone the way I love you. You own my heart in all ways possible, you know that. I’m yours entirely and I always will be.”

“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He cried silently, his tongue licking teardrops from his lips. “I really hope you know how much I love you.”

“I know, Shawn. I do.” I assured him, pressing my forehead against his burning forehead. “I love you just as much.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“I know, baby. I know. I think you should save your apologies to the wall.” I joked, my eyes popping to the hole in the newly painted, white wall. Shawn cracked up and a little smile ran across his lips.

“Guess we’ll add another month until we’re officially moved in, hun?”

“And whose fault is that?” I teased him, laughing at his heated face.

“Well… Maybe we can get Brian to help us fix it.” He shrugged, laughing towards me.

“I’ll ask him about that. Just promise me you won’t hit him too.” I said, rolling my eyes.

Shawn forced a laughter at my playful words but his laughter didn’t reach his eyes. He was ashamed of the way he acted, I saw it in his dark eyes. What he did wasn’t okay but I knew he was aware of that. The regret was written all over his pale face.

Shawn tilted my chin up to expose my lips to his. I didn’t take him long to close the gap between our bodies and kiss me. I kept pressing the frozen bag of peas against his knuckles, making sure it was iced properly.

“Don’t leave me, okay? I know I have a bad temper and things can get heated, but it’s only because I love you. I’ll work on not losing it, I promise. No more punching walls.” He breathed against my lips. “I won’t let my jealousy get the best of me again.”

“I know, Shawn. But you can’t act like this.” I whispered back, feeling his hand tug into my hair.

“I know. This is the first and last time, I promise. No more.”

Shawn was a stupid, at times jealous and frustrating into that jumped to conclusions at times. But he was mine and I wouldn’t trade him for anyone in the entire world.

“Maybe we should get you a punching bag for the next time you need to blow off some steam?” I mocked him, sweetly. “I mean, if we want to keep our house intact.”

I was convinced Shawn knew, he was going to hear about this for a very long time. He wasn’t getting off that easy and I was sure as hell going to tell his mouther.

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

“Just trying to keep the peace at home.” I said, sticking my tongue out at him. “You know what we could do? We could frame it! Put a spotlight on, an arrow pointing at the hole and stuff. So other guys would know not to mess with my big, bad boyfriend!”

“Seriously, you’re killing me here.”

“Good, because you’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know, I know.” He muttered, placing a kiss on my lips. Shawn reached for the car keys I had thrown on the table and handed them to me. “I think Brian is waiting for you.”

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