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css1992 · 3 years ago

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Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies – and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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fragmentedink-archived · 3 years ago

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Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Six

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV, LV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Biela was in one of the cities of Assyra, helping provide some form of comfort and support to the many grieving families left without their young. The cities of her kingdom were slowly building their way back to their former glory thanks to the war ending, but there was still much, much work to be done.

And she would not rest until it was.

She was still half tempted to take her frustrations out on that angel and his foolish cousin who decided to defy nature in her lands, leaving her people to pay the consequences. But she held back, if only so they could live with what they had done.

Dacia and Caius both were with her to provide as much light and warmth in this time, something she had always lacked the ability to provide. Dacia stood by her side while combing the streets for a period of respite.

“I do hope this haunts them,” Biela said, darkly, letting Dacia link their arms together.

“I am sure it will,” Dacia replied. “Levant and Amara both.”

“Hmph.”

They let silence fall for a bit longer when she felt a tugging at her skirt. She nearly thought it was some mangy animal, but stopped moving when she realized it was a child that was clinging to her skirts, clearly trying to keep herself from tumbling to the ground.

“Who’s child is this?” Biela demanded, looking around.

Dacia was already moving to scooping her up when Biela locked eyes on a violet eyed child that had a hand half reaching for the toddler in Dacia’s arms. She nearly went after them had it not been for their bolting like a rabbit, likely to get as far away from Biela as physically possible.

Of course it ran. Biela never had much luck with children capable of forming their own opinions. They more often than not were best left silent. But for some reason, this particular toddler decided to demand her attention.

Dacia seemed to be looking the child over, checking for cuts or bruises, though she couldn’t find any. She gave Biela a look that had Biela frowning at her. “What.”

“Well, clearly she had a home.”

“Oh really?” Biela asked. “From the looks of it I’d say she was missing a few requirements for that, considering her very dirty skin on top of her very dirty clothes.”

“Well all the more reason to take her with us,” Dacia replied. “Children are dying. We cannot let another fall through the cracks.”

“I suppose,” Biela said, eyeing the child staring right back at her. She squinted.

When the child removed her hand from her mouth, as soaked with slobber as it was, she still reached out for Biela. Biela frowned in distaste. She had been soaked in blood once, but she still was not a fan of fluids from infants. “I will not take you,” Biela retorted to the baby. “But fine, we will bring her with us.”

Biela thought back to the last thing Raziel had said to her the day before. That ‘Congratulations’ stuck out in Biela’s mind and she had half a thought to go wring that old bird’s neck.

She hated seers.

---

Lev was closing the door to Eden's nursery oh so carefully when Ash found him. And by found him, Lev meant Ash smacked the side of his leg with his cane. Lev stifled a yelp, so he didn’t wake Eden, and glared at Ash. It was safe to do so because Ash couldn’t see him.

“Ow,” Lev mumbled, sidestepping another sweep of the cane. “I- can I help you?” He paused, and quickly corrected himself. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm. Pick a new tone,” Ash said, flippantly. “I want you to make yourself useful and take me to Cameron’s library.”

Lev sighed softly, and started walking. “It’s this way,” he said, just to get Ash started. “Though I don’t think he’s got any books in braille.”

“Well lucky for me I’m not going to be the one doing the reading,” Ash replied, following after him.

“Am I-” Lev bit off his questions, and instead said, “It’s up these stairs, and then we’re gonna take a left.”

Ash slowly followed after him, taking one step at a time, clearly not quite used to climbing the stairs without the morsels of eyesight he once had.

Lev quietly narrated the path he took to one of the tables he liked to frequent during the few times he’d had the time to sequester himself away in the library. It was near the very meager collection of fiction Cameron had; most everything else in here seemed to be non-fiction of all sorts.

“I’m sure there’s a system,” Ash said, side stepping the things in his way. “Knowing Cameron it’s bound to be just as elaborate as his many personalities.” At Lev’s confusion Ash sighed. “A catalogue. Something to classify the books to keep them separate by title or genre or subject or something.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah. There is. Do- do you need me to find you a book?”

“I want you to find every book in Cameron’s library about the gods,” Ash said, leaning against one of the shelves. “You’re going to actually learn something about well, something aside from whatever romance novel you are currently gurgitating.”

“Gurgitating,” Lev mumbled to himself, trying not to sound annoyed. He puffed out a breath, and then, “I’ll see if I can find a few. There’s a table next to you if you want to sit.” Though Ash might prefer to stand, so he could complain about that too.

He could feel Ash’s glare against his back. “I’m coming with you, genius,” Ash said. “How about you knock the attitude off. I can feel your passive aggressive puffiness from here.”

Lev considered that, and then decided honesty was the best policy. “I’m just a little cranky,” he said, and then added, “And so are you. I’m sorry if I’ve been snapping at you, though. Shouldn’t take crankiness out on someone else. Not their fault.”

“Duly noted,” Ash said. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to someone who cares. Now take me to the books.”

Lev led the way, gathering every book Ash told him to, up until his arms started to get tired, and then he very firmly insisted they go back to the table. “I can’t carry any more,” he said, “And I certainly can’t read all of these in one sitting. The rest aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s fine,” Ash said, taking a few books from him to tuck under his arm. “You won’t be able to retain all of what you need to know if you do that.”

Lev sighed, loud enough for Ash to definitely hear this time, but just settled down at his table, spreading the books out. Ash took the chair across from Lev and had him pull out the first book.

“Do you want me to read out loud?” Lev asked after a moment of staring at the introduction.

“Tell me what you know about the gods,” Ash said. “The angels should have given you a rudimentary understanding of each god in school, but angelic teachings tend… to embellish a little and make Asmi seem more important than the others. Which is not to say they’re not important,” Ash added, hastily. “As they are the god to the angels, but each is important and I want to figure out how much work you’re going to need to understand.”

Lev paused, trying to dig up memories well over a century old. “I knew of Asmi,” Lev confirmed. “And they said that demons split their worship between... Five? Five gods? I think? I know demonic magic is tied to specific gods. I think. Or- there’s a choosing?”

“There is Kaveh, the oldest- twin to Asmi, who is the one who created both the other gods and the demons. Demons were pulled from the earth as angels were the stars. Kaveh’s magic is one of the most powerful, bestowed as they are the oldest god in the pantheon,” Ash said. “They rule magic such as telepathy and forms of telekinesis and other mental based magics.”

Ash took a breath. “Asmi, as Kaveh’s twin, was born at the same time. It was just them alone in the universe, right? Asmi created the angels so of course they would become the patron to all angels. As they are tied to the natural balance, all our abilities come from nature.”

“Third,” Ash said, “Is Mizra. Mizra is the seer. Knows all that is, was and all that could be. They’re known for being relatively… prickly, I guess. Just like Kaveh, but a different flavor. Next is Ruya. Ruya is the god of echos and reigns over the illusion workers. And lastly is Basim who rules over empathy based magics. Anything having to do with the emotional spectrum. Each god has access to the rawest magic, but only demons can access the designated power that each god rules over.” He paused, took another breath and leaned back. “Does any of that make sense?”

Lev blinked several times. “I...” he trailed off. “That was a lot. But.. I think so?” Even though Ash couldn’t see, Lev ticked them off on his fingers, “Kaveh is the oldest, and rules mental magics. Asmi is balance, Mizra is the Sight, Ruya is echoes and illusions. And- Um. Bas- Basim is empaths?”

“Yes,” Ash said, satisfied. “They’re each patron to a particular person they find interesting, so a person can have two gods bugging them, but only hold power for one, if that makes sense? They might just… be a little more enhanced. Kaveh: the cunning and resourceful; Asmi: the natural order and witches; Mizra: survivors; Ruya: the wild and unchained, and Basim: patron to the merciful.”

“I... I think so?” Lev said hesitantly. “Does everyone have a god who is their patron? Or only specific people?”

Ash rose a shoulder. “I think it’s just certain people that the gods have taken a liking to. I haven’t read anything about every single demon having a patron on top of their god.”

Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said out loud after a moment. “I think that makes sense.” He tapped his thumb on the book, and then asked thoughtfully, “Do gods favor bloodlines? I never really paid much attention to if demons’ magic was genetic or not...”

“I do think sometimes it’s through bloodlines, unless a god has deliberately chosen the child. Their magic usually comes in around five to seven years old; just like an angel’s,” Ash said. “The gods wait to see what the child will grow into and go from there.”

“That makes sense,” Lev mumbled, more to himself than anything, and then said, “So there’s no real way to know what kind of magic Eden will have, then?”

“Not until she’s close to five, no.”

Lev gave a small hum. “Does Asmi ever choose demons?” He asked, just out of sheer curiosity.

“If they find a liking to a person, sure,” Ash said. “They’ll most likely bless that bloodline. Isn’t Sorin a demon with fire magic anyways? Also, Asmi likely is responsible for the few powerful bloodlines of demonic healers. They’re very rare, just like elemental demonic users.”

Lev gave a few blinks. “I didn’t-” He thought again. “Right. Fax’s cousin.” After another awkward pause, he added, “I forgot. Fax had fire magic too. He just so rarely used it. Mostly to light his cigarettes or the fireplace.”

Ash looked vaguely disapproving with the mention of cigarettes, but said nothing about it. “Sazra’s bloodline is most likely one blessed by Asmi. She’s one of the very few demonic healers I have met. And she’s a very strong one at that. Probably why she was in this house for so long. Demons were never very kind to their healers- always enslaved them.”

Oh. Lev looked down. “I’m guessing she wouldn’t want my pity,” he said slowly.

“Probably not,” Ash said. “But back to what I was saying. Power and magic are tied to the gods and the gods are tied to us. Sometimes even the gods walk among the people, though Asmi is somewhat trapped in their realm whereas the other gods are not.” Ash grimaced. “Instead they get to use me as their mouthpiece.”

“They’re trapped?” Lev asked, his concern getting dragged away from Sazra. “That sounds awful.”

“Less trapped and more they don’t have a physical form,” Ash admitted. “If they want company from us mere mortals they are very capable of yanking us to them.”

“Oh,” Lev said, considering that. “Do they do that often?”

“I’m not sure with other people besides me,” Ash said, “but they sure do like my company. Maybe a little too much.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said honestly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s fine,” Ash said. “I’ll manage.”

Lev frowned, but Ash couldn’t see. He tapped the book with his thumb. “Do the gods talk directly to their followers often? Like when... when Asmi spoke to me, before I came back? Or did they only do so because I was... partly dead.”

“I think… they were curious and infuriated. Not many people show up on the gods' radar. When they do, they take notice.”

Lev nodded. “So they don’t visit people often. And that’s true for all the gods?”

Ash lifted a shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, yeah. Maybe us mere mortals aren’t all that interesting in the grand scheme of things, though I’m sure they do find our little lives absolutely hilarious sometimes.”

“Ah,” Lev said, rubbing his face. “I suppose bastardizing nature would put me on their radar,” he sighed.

“And now we don’t have magic,” Ash said, sardonically. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Asmi soon.”

---

Cameron was seated in the chair while Darius napped. He had been working on the backed up paperwork from the last several days. He had a solid chunk of paperwork from both the club and further Obsidian Court workings when there was a feather light knock on the door.

He bit back his irritable sigh and looked up to see one of the sentries standing stiffly in the doorway. Cameron flicked Darius a look, to make sure he was still sleeping before fixing his attention on the sentry. “What do you want?”

“There’s an angel here,” they said.

“I am aware there are several angels here,” Cameron said, crossly. “Be more specific.”

“Raziel,” he rushed out. “Um, she said her name was Raziel.”

Oh brilliant. “And what does that overcooked chicken want?” Cameron said, flatly. “Lev is unable to speak with his family for the next several decades.”

“She’s here for you, sir.”

“You can tell Raziel to fly her carcass back to her roost,” Cameron said, turning his focus back to his work, dismissing the sentry to do his bidding.

Cameron had but a few moments of peace before the sentry returned, looking rather ashened. “I’m afraid she was rather insistent, sir.”

Cameron sighed sharply out of his nose and got to his feet. The sentry stiffened slightly as Cameron walked past him, ordering him to not take his eyes off Darius while Cameron dealt with the ancient angel.

“And to what do I owe this displeasure,” Cameron said, eyeing Raziel, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Mizra sent me,” Raziel said, irritatingly calm as always. “So unfortunately, I am not able to leave until I’ve passed their message along.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I haven’t been to a temple in well over five hundred years.” In fact, he had never stepped foot inside one to begin with. “Why would they bother themselves with my presence now?”

“Both kingdoms are healing,” Raziel said. “And they’re tired of waiting for you to come to them. I’m sure if I hadn’t reached out to them for my own reasons they would have found another way to reach out to you and demand you listen.”

Cameron fixed his jaw. “We’ll speak in my office,” he said, walking past her.

Raziel followed him, staying a good three paces behind him until they reached the office. She even settled in the chair without prompting, hooking one knee over the other.

Cameron took his place behind his desk and leaned back. He eyed her for a few seconds, trying to figure the best approach to handle both Mizra and Raziel. “I have not participated in the Rite,” Cameron said, evenly. “I am not able to, so I do not have any connections with Mizra.”

Every demon born had their god and had their own coming of age where they cemented their connection to their god. Every demon, legitimate or not, was supposed to form the connections with their god in order to fully claim their abilities. Cameron never had, his mother had forbade it, so his magic was barely a whisper of anything- calling it a magic felt like too grand of a word. He had never spoken to a priestess, of any god. Cameron had no Rite to claim.

Raziel didn’t even blink. “Then complete it. Before Mizra starts meddling more personally.”

“I do not have the time,” Cameron said. “And I am now much too old. Have been for well over five hundred years.”

“Make time. Your god demands it.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Your household doesn’t need a second god looking at it with ire. Nothing I remember of the Rite says you can’t complete it later in life.” Her silver eyes tracked his every minute move. “I’m sure you’re not the only one with subpar parents.”

“I suggest you do not speak ill of my parents,” Cameron said, flippantly. “They’re my problem and they’re also dead. No need for you to make judgements that do not pertain to you. Besides, the Rite is a demonic passage. Perhaps you should keep to your own lane in that matter. I will make time, but it will have to wait.” Cameron rubbed his temples, alleviating the growing pressure. “As I said, I am busy.”

“I did not mean offense,” Raziel said mildly. “I spoke only of what Mizra told me. And on top of what they’ve said of your parents, ill or otherwise, they have insisted you speak to them.”

“What part of ‘I am busy’ seems to get lost in your decrepit mind?” Cameron snapped.

It was then that Cameron felt himself be… pulled somewhere; he and Raziel both. Cameron went very still when a very pale… being was standing in front of him. Mizra, he presumed, with their pale skin and white hair, almost a similar likeness to himself. They looked less than pleased to drag him here into their realm. “When I request you,” they said, coolly. “I do not mean to be put off for something you consider more important. There is nothing more important than I, do you understand me?”

“My apologies,” Cameron said. “I did not mean any disrespect.”

Mizra’s eyes narrowed. “There is not an ounce of respect in your frail little body, Cameron Luain.”

“Mizra,” Raziel said. “It would make pulling us here rather pointless if you lose your temper now.” And then she smiled at the god.

Mizra fixed their mouth into a thin line. “Your mother,” they said, turning back to face Cameron, “defied my wishes when she decided to keep you from me in attempt to keep you powerless.” Cold washed down Cameron’s skin. “She is now rotting in the ground and no longer an obstacle, therefore, I am very kindly requesting you have the Rite performed.”

Cameron flicked Raziel a glance before tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I suppose I will make the time,” he bit out, bowing his head slightly.

He could feel their very smug faint smile directed his way. “Very good,” they said. “It seems when I told Raziel to fix you, I had not accounted for how foolishly bullheaded you male creatures are.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Raziel interjected. “I apologize I was not able to successfully pass along your message on my own.”

Mizra frowned at her. “Yes, I do suppose you did fail in your one task, Raziel. I had expected far better from someone I had blessed.”

“I suppose I’m out of practice,” Raziel replied. “I’ll do better next time.” If Cameron didn’t know better he’d say Raziel’s silver eyes, so eerily similar to Mizra’s, crinkled with affection at the god.

“As you should,” Mizra said, primly. “Failure is unacceptable and I would so hate to find someone else to keep me company. Most of you mortals are rather boring.”

Cameron was rapidly growing all the more irritable with these too ancient beings and found the phantom pain in his head to be growing steadily behind his eye.

Mizra cut their focus to Cameron. “And while I have you here,” they said, “I expect you to start eating something. You’re too thin and disgusting. You need to eat more.”

Cameron stared blankly at the god. “You want me to eat more?” he echoed.

Why would a god care about his eating habits?

“Oh please,” Mizra huffed, “I do detest repeating myself.”

“I could always check in on him,” Raziel offered.

Cameron cut her a withering glare. The last thing he needed was Raziel to babysit him. “Last I checked,” Cameron said, “you were barred from Lev’s presence.”

Mizra waved a dismissive hand. “You make it sound like I care what your little king wants,” Mizra said. “Raziel will do my bidding and hold your hand if need be.”

Cameron felt rage boil under his skin, but promptly kept his mouth shut.

“I highly doubt I’ll need to go that far,” Raziel said, amused.

“Was there anything else you required of me,” Cameron bit out.

“Oh very well, very well,” Mizra said, “If you’re going to act like a child I will send you back. Raziel, I will speak to you soon.”

With that, Cameron felt himself be dropped into his body.

Raziel looked annoyingly unruffled. “So I’ll see you next week?” She said lightly.

Cameron got to his feet and leaned over his desk. “Get the hell out of my house right now,” he snapped. “If you are not off of my property in the next five minutes I will not be so pleasant. Get out now.”

Raziel lifted a single brow, but stood gracefully. “I’ll let you know before I come over next time,” she said on her way out. “Do not make Mizra wait much longer. They have much less patience than I.”

Cameron let the door shut behind her before he nearly collapsed in his chair. He grabbed his head, tight, hoping to alleviate the pressure building, but it did very little.

---

Nik woke from his nap, still angry and irritable. The last twenty-four hours had not done much for his temper so he had taken a nap. And that did not help either. He wandered the house and found a rather beautiful man in the bedroom, sitting up in the bed. “Well you must be Darius,” Nik said, crossly.

The man gave him a rather mild smile and nodded.

Nik’s eyes narrowed. “So are you crippled and can’t talk or are you being annoying on purpose.” When Darius didn’t say anything, because of course he didn’t, Nik said, “Right, whatever. So I guess you’re Cameron’s boyfriend or something? And you were dead, so why didn’t you stay dead? Nevermind, that’s stupid. I guess if you were going to defy nature, you might as well do it for Cameron.”

Darius cocked his head and reached for a pad of paper only to scribble a ‘It’s nice to meet you, Nik.’

“Oh please,” Nik said, “I’m being a dickhead to you. You don’t need to lie to me.”

‘I’m not lying,’ Darius wrote. ‘I’m rather used to crass language when people are upset.”

“I’m being crass?” Nik demanded. “I think you being alive is rather inconvenient for me since everyone in this damned house knows who the hell you are besides me.”

‘I apologize for Cameron not telling you,’ Darius said. ‘It was all rather sudden. I do hope we can be friends, Nik.’

Nik rolled his eyes. “Do I look like someone who has friends?”

‘Ash and Amara seem rather fond of you,’ Darius observed.

Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, Ash and Amara make bad choices daily, so I wouldn’t hold either of them to a high standard. Case in point: bringing people back from the dead and killing a million kids, but hey, what do I know?”

And now he’s in the line of fire.

Sympathy shone in Darius’ eyes and it took tremendous effort to not wipe that infuriating look off his face. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not Cameron and I’m sure as hell not Lev. Puppy eyes don’t work on me.”

‘Well, I’m actually a cat.’

“Oh great,” Nik said. “You’re a cat.”

Darius gave him a dry, feline smile. ‘Not a fan of cats?’

“Not this particular one.”

‘If it helps,’ Darius wrote. ‘Cameron loathes cats as well.”

“Well he clearly likes you,” Nik said, frowning. “If you claw up my clothes, I’ll cut your hair off.”

‘Well, I will make a note to leave your clothes alone,’ Darius replied.

“I think you enjoy mocking me,” Nik said. “You get to waltz in and drop into my relationship because Cameron killed you or something. I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic.”

That was the moment Lev chose to poke his head in. His brows furrowed in his usual expression of worry, and he was quick to cross the room. Nik folded his arms as he watched Lev kiss Darius on the cheek.

Traitor.

Lev was just as quick to tuck himself into Nik’s side, however, insistently tugging at Nik’s arms until he could pull it around his shoulders. Against his will, Nik felt himself loosening as Lev scented him, a low soothing purr coming from Lev as he did.

“Is everything okay?” Lev asked.

“I mean I guess,” Nik said, crossly. “I wake up to him in my bed that I can’t even sleep in because I guess it was his bed first, or something.”

Lev nosed at Nik’s jaw lightly. “It was,” Lev said unhelpfully, and then, with irritating optimism, Lev added, “We can pick another room. Any room. I doubt Cameron will make you stay in the rooms he’s moved us to right now. And I also doubt he’d say no about much of anything when it comes to decorating your new room. Not right now, anyway. The opportunities are almost endless.”

“Whatever,” Nik said. “I have to move around my life because Cameron felt bad for killing the guy.” He glared at Darius frowning at him. “You’re not special,” he said. “Just because you’re some pretty face doesn’t mean shit. We’re all pretty faces. Don’t expect me to get in line to kiss your ass like everyone else.”

Darius blinked at him, seemingly bewildered, but he just nodded at him.

“Nikolas,” Lev chastised, but even his scolding was tempered by worry. “Darius hasn’t done anything. And I was the one that asked for him; I’m the one that told Cameron he was still there.” Lev hesitated, and then added gently, “Darius helped me while I was dead. He kept me steady, kept me sane. He deserves another chance as much as I do. More. He’s a kind person, Nik. That’s all.”

Nik sighed through his nose. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Is Cameron home or is he going to resurrect some other not-boyfriend?”

Lev shrugged. “Last I saw he was in here with Darius, so I don’t know.”

‘I think he’s in his office,’ Darius offered.

“I’m hungry,” Nik mumbled, pathetically.

“I can go get Cameron,” Lev offered, oh-so-helpfully. “With everything going on I don't think it’s a good idea for us to touch anything in his kitchen. Besides, Eden should wake up from her nap soon, and she’ll need a snack too.”

“Okay.”

---

Lev knocked on Cameron’s office door lightly, but didn’t wait to open it. The room was dark, and Lev almost assumed it was empty, but he heard a quiet, “Shut the door,” from the direction of Cameron’s desk, so he slipped inside, closing it obediently.

After letting his eyes adjust, Lev realized Cameron was bent over the desk, head in his arms. Lev chose to approach slowly, hovering his hand over Cameron’s shoulder before ultimately letting it drop back to his side instead. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine,” Cameron said, stiffly. “Just a headache.”

Right. Lev worried his lip between his teeth. “Nik’s hungry,” he finally said. “I can make him something, if you’d like.”

“Fine,” Cameron said, dismissively. “Just clean up after yourself.”

Lev nodded, but didn’t move. “I had something else to ask,” he finally said. “If that’s okay?”

“Alright.”

“I should probably get back to training, if I can get Ash to sign off on it? Or Sazra?” Lev fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, and then grimaced. “Or- can I? I don't- it doesn’t have to be you, but- I had planned- without my magic- well, without my magic, I really am useless, aren’t I? And I don’t like feeling like I’m a vulnerability for Nik, especially when he’s pregnant.” He took a deep breath, hardened his tone. “I won’t let anything happen to my mate.”

“Probably,” Cameron agreed. “Get it okayed by Ash and Sazra and I will put it into my schedule. I’ll fit you in.”

“I- oh. Okay,” Lev said, trying not to be too enthusiastic. He put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder as he started to say, “Thank you,” but his voice died a little as he realized just how thin Cameron’s shoulder was.

Cameron carefully removed Lev’s hand from his shoulder. Even in the dark Lev could see Cameron giving him a slow once over, noting how clothes that had fit perfectly a month ago were just a little loose now. Lev hadn’t paid attention before, but Cameron’s shrewd gaze made him hyper aware.

“Make sure you eat too,” was all Cameron said in the end. “And close the door behind you when you leave.”

Lev swallowed. He ran his fingers through Cameron’s hair once, just to reassure himself that he could, that they were both still there and then backed for the door. “I’ll bring you something later,” he promised. “And some painkillers.”

He made sure that the door clicked shut as quietly as he could.

---

While Cyrus flipped through one of the several books he’d lain on the bed, Sorin napped sprawled on his lap. Sorin’s surprisingly strong tail wrapped around his wrist insistently, the prehensile appendage tugging every once and a while as the demon dreamed.

Cyrus had spent the last few hours reading up on the gods. While he was certainly more educated, he felt like it was only a surface level understanding of them. Which- understandable. There was a lot, and these were gods.

Rather than continue to stare blankly at the pages, Cyrus settled more deeply into the pillows he was propped up against. Sorin huffed at him, his tail tightening briefly, but when Cyrus made no move to get up, the demon fell asleep again pretty quickly.

Once the house was quiet, Cyrus closed his eyes and tried to remember how Darius had shown him how to reach out for Asmi. It’d certainly been more ritualistic than Cyrus was able to do right now, but even attempting without the words and candles and pomp and ceremony, when Cyrus opened his eyes, he was back in the warm room, Asmi seated before him.

“Asmi,” Cyrus said, dipping into a small bow. He looked up, offering a small smile. “Will it always be that easy to reach you?”

Asmi lifted a brow. “If you were aware of your studies, you would know,” they said, amused.

Cyrus gave a shrug in acquiescence. “True,” he said, “But who better to ask my questions than you? I’ve been reading, while my mate keeps me on bedrest. Trying to understand all of it. The sheer amount of literature to wade through is... overwhelming.”

Asmi brought their tea to their lips. “I imagine getting caught up on nearly forty years of spellwork will take you some time. I’m sure you will now have plenty of time to do so without your magic distracting you.”

“Was taking my magic an opportunity to learn or a punishment?” Cyrus asked, out of sheer curiosity.

Asmi merely gave Cyrus a slight smile.

Cyrus settled in the closest chair with a bit more weight than he usually would. It seemed even in this dimension he was weaker than usual. “Some things have to remain a secret, then?” He asked, mulling it over.

“I told you there will be a price to pay,” they said. “You will pay it tenfold. I do not like to be made weakened by anyone, and this time, my point will be made.”

“I understand,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t take this lightly, and I will work hard to learn what I can while without magic.”

“Excellent,” Asmi said, setting their mug of tea down. “You will not regain your magic until I am satisfied.” Asmi flicked a hand, and with a ripple of magic Ash, Lev and Darius appeared in the room with them.

Ash was quick to bow deeply before standing upright wearily. “You summoned me?”

Cyrus flicked a glance at the other two; Lev was quite bewildered, though he gave an echo of Ash’s movements after a beat. Darius gave his own slow bow before quietly buckling into the chair behind him.

Cyrus thought about moving to check on him, but Lev beat him to it, fussing quietly while keeping an eye on Asmi warily. As much as he hated to admit it, he was relieved. It would have taken a lot of energy to stand. Instead he fixed Asmi with another curious stare. “I assume you have a message for all four of us?”

“You should watch your assumptions,” Asmi said. “But yes, I do and I did not feel the need to repeat myself four different times.”

“Apologies,” Cyrus murmured, before falling silent expectantly.

“Apologies noted,” Asmi said, crossing their legs. “I have spoken to Levant already, about carrying a piece of the burden should you defy the natural balance once more. You have all felt its effects. There is and will be a void where your magic was and would be, and that void shall remain until you earn the right to your magic. I demand respect from the lot of you and for you to learn a lesson.”

Ash looked a mix of rage and submission but ultimately hung his head without a word.

“How do we earn it?” Lev asked, and then immediately looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up. Cyrus grimaced in sympathy, but he’d been wondering the same thing, and so he simply looked to Asmi again. Earning it could mean a thousand things, and they were all from different places and backgrounds in life.

A serpentine smile curled on Asmi’s lips. “I am glad you ask. You will all learn everything about the gods, you will worship and devote yourselves accordingly. You will become nearly as knowledgeable and devoted as a priestess and you will not have your magic returned to you until all of you satisfy me. Not one, not three. All four of you will satisfy me or none of you will satisfy me.”

“Understood,” Cyrus said. He’d honestly expected something worse, and judging by the surprise on Lev’s face, so had the angel. Ash and Darius were harder to read, but that was just fine.

Asmi’s eyes narrowed, seemingly reading his mind. “Be glad it is not Kaveh. Would you wish to want harsher punishments, I am sure they will be more than willing to provide.”

“Of course,” Cyrus murmured. Where faint enthusiasm had grown in Lev's expression, it’d quickly become ashen, and he’d reached for Darius’ hand silently.

Darius quietly squeezed Lev's hand. “Your mercy is much appreciated,” Darius murmured, hoarsely. “We will do all that you ask.”

Lev nodded vigorously, again simply echoing the sentiment.

“I will make sure to help in any way,” Ash said. “I already have Lev reading the old books on the various gods from Cameron’s library.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “I might reach out to you,” he said to Ash, before adding, “And Sorin can find resources for me in places I cannot go. Though it might be a few days; we’re going to be moving soon, before Biela’s mercy wanes. I won’t be welcome in demonic territory at all for the foreseeable future, if ever.”

“I can’t leave Cameron’s house,” Lev piped up nervously. “And Darius shouldn’t be moving around much yet either.”

“Well it’s not like your magic is going anywhere,” Asmi replied. “I’m sure you will figure out how to get to a temple. The lot of you are irritatingly creative.”

“Best see if Biela has any mercy left to spare,” Cyrus advised, even as he thought internally that they might not get their magic back in the next half century just from this.

“Better chance of draining the ocean with a straw,” Ash muttered.

Lev sighed softly, and looked down at Darius. “I can talk to Cameron,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

When Darius nodded tiredly, Asmi said, “If you all have nothing else interesting to say I am sending you back.” They didn’t give much room for Lev, Darius, or Ash to speak before they disappeared.

Cyrus blinked at where they had been. “Thank you,” he said, and then clarified, “For taking the time to explain. You could have left us to flounder.”

“I see no point wasting my time,” they said, dismissively. “You will likely have the most to learn, as you think you are above myself and had performed that heinous magic twice. You will find my mercy and my forgiveness is not easily won.”

Asmi waved a hand and sent Cyrus back to his body. Judging from how Sorin’s face was so close to his he could feel the demon’s whiskers tickling his face, it’d been obvious that Cyrus hadn’t been in bed with him in any way beyond physical. Sorin pressed a paw to Cyrus’ chest slowly, spreading his toes and digging his claws in. Five sharp points let Cyrus know just how pisssed Sorin was.

“Alright, alright,” Cyrus muttered. “I’ll rest.”

Sorin gave a pointed sniff, but backed off, nosing the books onto the floor before Cyrus could move them himself. He draped himself across Cyrus’ body, purring deep in his chest the moment Cyrus relaxed.

Point taken.

---

Nik found himself getting summoned to Cameron’s office. He couldn’t even come get him himself, instead he had one of his toadies come and fetch him. Nik did pause, though, when he realized Cameron’s office was pitch black. “Cameron?”

“Sit.”

“Well great to see you, too,” Nik muttered, plopping down on the chair across from him. “For what have you summoned me?”

Cameron looked up in his direction, his eyes glowing animal bright in the darkness. It was so leery; NIk kept forgetting demons could do that. “I want you to go stay with your brother,” he said.

“You’re seriously kicking me out?” Nik said. “Is it because I refused to kiss Darius’ ass?”

Cameron blinked slowly at him, clearly not aware of Nik and Darius’ previous conversation. “No,” he said, mildly. “And it’s not forever. You can come back, if you want, during the weekends or for a couple of days during the week, the choice is yours.”

“Is this because of the demon lands being poisoned?”

“Yes,” Cameron said. “And since you decided to keep the fetus, and you decided to mate with me, that makes you both my responsibility, and I’m not going to let your sentimentality cause a miscarriage or stillbirth because you wanted to be near Lev.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “So what, because you mated with me, so my dad couldn’t take me home, you now have control of me?”

“If you want to be so frank,” Cameron said, bluntly, “we can do that. Demonic customs and all of that. However, consider it me giving you the choice to come back a few days of the week. I’d rather keep you off demonic land all together if I had my way about it.”

“And you don’t?” Nik snapped.

“If I had my way about anything, your brother would be dragging you by your ear back to his house in the next thirty minutes,” Cameron said, sharply. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be back until the fetus was well past four months old when the likelihood of an infant death was not nearly so high. If you wish to act like a petulant child, do it on your own time.”

“I am not acting like a child.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “you are. You’re throwing hissy fits when you’re not getting your way and yelling at people for things they had nothing to do with. You are actively being a selfish little twat who refuses to not do what the hell is the right thing to do because you want to stay with Lev.”

Nik stared at him in shocked outrage. “Did you seriously call me a twat?”

“Is that all you got from that,” Cameron snapped. “So help me if I have to make the choice for you, you are not coming back to this house for the next eight months, you hear me? I will have your brother tie you to a fucking tree to make my godsdamned point.”

Nik opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. “...fine,” he said. “I’ll go. I just, I didn’t want to leave either of you, especially when you can’t follow.”

“We will be fine,” Cameron said, a shade calmer. “I’m sure Lev will facetime you or knit you some baby blanket to pass the time, or whatever it is angels do for their pregnant mates. I don’t really care as long as both of you stop pissing me off.”

Any other time the idea of Lev knitting would make him wheeze. “I’m sorry,” Nik said, leaning back into the chair, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m just- I feel like I can’t get my footing lately and all of us are spinning out.”

“Well this will be a good chance for you to get grounded then, isn’t it?”

“When am I going?” he said, defeatedly.

“Nate will be here within the hour.”

----

It was dark when Eden woke. It was dark and she did not like that. No one was there to pick her up, and she didn’t like that even more. Papi had left her again. She remembered him leaving, and then Da had put her to bed instead of the pale one later that night. That was too many alterations to what was right and she did not like it.

Not one bit.

A shrill shriek bubbled in her throat, and she banged her hands on the side of her crib the moment she pulled herself up.

No one came to pick her up, which really was unfair. Eden deserved to be picked up. She screeched again, but the house was silent other than her cries.

Filled with the determination of a child wronged by the world, Eden scrabbled her way over the side of the crib. She hit the floor with a solid thud, and almost began to cry from the shock of it all. After a few minutes of sniffling, Eden was on her way again, hooking her little fingers around the door. It took a few tries, and she got it stuck on her leg more than once, but she got it open.

One of the Big Talls stared down at her, seeming as startled to see her as she was to see them. Rather than wait to see what they’d do, Eden booked it, moving as fast as she could crawl on chubby baby legs.

Behind her, the Big Tall said something loudly, and unwelcome hands grabbed her around the waist. Eden wailed a toddler war cry and bit the nearest finger with her little fangs. That seemed to work, because very quickly she found herself on the ground, even if the Big Tall still had a grip on her, and had cushioned her fall.

---

Cameron had yet to go to bed. He was sitting it the dark in Darius’ room past midnight with a small light and his book. His head snapped up when he heard Eden’s telltale screech-crying right aside a grown demon’s screaming as well.

He quietly sat down his book, ignoring the pain pulsing behind his eye and wrapping around his head and headed for the sound in question.

He found Eden on the floor, sitting and crying and smacking the sentry’s face, perhaps to get him to stop screaming. Or maybe she just felt like hitting someone.

Cameron scooped her up off the floor and peered down at the sentry’s bleeding hand and back to Eden’s sharp little fangs. “I see your venom has come in,” he sighed. He toed the sentry’s face up in his direction. “I will make sure to add this inconvenience to your paycheck. When you get a hold of yourself, take the rest of the night off.”

With that, Cameron stepped around him and took Eden down the hall. She was sniffling and mouthing at Cameron’s shoulder. He lightly pinched her leg. “Bite me and I’ll bite back,” he warned.

She seemed intent on ignoring his threat.

Cameron opened the door of the bedroom Lev was sleeping in and flicked the lights on. “Wake up,” he said, even as Lev stirred awake.

Lev propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at them. “Eden?”

“You wanted to keep the baby,” Cameron said, irritably, tracking across the room. “Take her. Be careful, though, her venom came in.”

“Oh baby,” Lev said, reaching for her. He was sitting up by now, and once Eden was safely in his lap he started rubbing her back lightly. “She can stay in my bed tonight. Maybe she had a nightmare.”

“Maybe,” Cameron agreed, tiredly. “Just don’t roll on top of her, I guess.” He started for the doorway and flicked the lights off once more, at least giving himself some relief. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Cameron made his way back to his chair, rubbing his temples on the way. Unsurprisingly Darius was sitting up, waiting for him. He patted the bed on the side Cameron had always slept on, clearly offering him the spot.

“You should be asleep.”

Darius gave him a very long look that Cameron chose to interpret as he should be as well- and then promptly dismissed it. “I have work I need to be doing.”

A small crease formed between Darius’ brows and he patted the bed more insistently.

Cameron sighed sharply. “If I get in, will you stop being a nuisance and go to sleep?” When Darius nodded, pleased, Cameron sighed once more and began undressing slowly, doing his best to not further aggravate his headache.

He crawled into the bed and put his face in the pillow, all too aware of the coolness of Darius’ skin next to his.

tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: the gods #ch: ash #ch: darius #hell to pay

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #iris west #barry x iris #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

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The Last Night Part XXII

(Author’s Notes at the end)

Parts I-XXI:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

.XXII.

“Lucie!” Her father’s voice came from the other side of the door as it cracked open inviting in a warm light that chased away the darkness from inside Lucie’s bedroom. Lucie, being only five years old should have been asleep hours ago, but was sitting up in bed with her old stuffed rabbit in her lap, and both hands firmly clamped over her ears.

Will, dressed in his white stocking pajamas, his black hair a mess of tangled curls stepped into the room. “Lucie, I heard voices-- what’s the matter?”

Lucie uncovered her ears and slowly opened her eyes as her father walked into the hazy moonlight that came in through the oval window like a dramatic spotlight. “They won’t stop whispering at me, Papa.”

“Who?” Will looked around her room. “Is someone else in here?”

Lucie nodded.

“Where?” Will demanded.

“They’re not here now,” said Lucie. “You frightened them off, but they wouldn’t stop whispering to me.”

A strange recognition filled Will’s expression. He walked over to Lucie’s side of the bed and climbed in beside her. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “They can be so loud. I think they just want someone to talk to, and I don’t mind, but I want to sleep.”

Will smiled. “As you should be. What do these visitors say?”

Lucie played with the silk ear of her rabbit. “They mostly just say my name. Whisper it over and over again, like they can’t say anything more. Are they ghosts?”

Will nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“How come I can see them?”

“Because you’re a Herondale,” said Will, proudly. “All Herondales can see ghosts.”

Lucie contemplated this for a moment to the best ability of her still developing five year old brain. “So even James and Mam?”

“Only James, not Mam,” explained Will. “Mam was a Grey before she was a Herondale. It’s hard to understand, but you will.” He tilted her chin up with his finger. “Only born Herondales have this particular talent.”

“And devilishly good looks,” parroted Lucie.

Will barked a laugh. “Exactly.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “They’re nothing to be frightened of. They can’t hurt you. They’re just looking for a friend. Now, you go to sleep and if these ghosts visit you again, you remind them that your bedtime is seven-thirty and if they’d like to visit you it must be before then.”

Lucie nodded and slid down beneath the thick comforter. Will tucked Lucie in all around until she resembled a log underneath a fancy blanket. With his white slippers shuffling along the floor, Will left the room and closed the door behind him.

For a moment, her room was quiet and she thought her father might have chased the last of the voices away.

When she was almost asleep, she felt a cold breath of air against her cheek.

Lucie.

LUCIE!

The whispering could be heard even as she folded a pillow over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. They continued until finally she sat up and yelled into the void, “BE QUIET!”

The voices went out in a whoosh like a candle being snuffed. Nothing could be heard except for the grandfather clock’s ticking on the wall in the hall and the crickets chirping in the warm summer’s air outside. With a curt nod, Lucie closed her eyes and fell asleep.

“Good,” said Belial as he stood from the bed. “You received my message.”

Lucie’s eyes flickered to Grace cowering in the corner beside her mother. Tears stained Grace’s face and her chin shook with more to come as she looked apologetically at Lucie.

“What have you done?” Lucie whispered.

“I had no choice,” said Grace. “He was going to kill my Mum and he would never bring Jesse back. I wouldn’t be left alone— not again.”

Blood boiled in Lucie’s cheeks. “You really think he’ll uphold his promise? He’s about as reliable as a trained lion. He’ll get what he wants from you and then tear your face off.”

“What do you know of it?” Snapped Tatiana Blackthorn. “You’ve been handed things your whole life. Blessed. You’ve no idea what it means to lose something you love.” She turned her attention to Belial. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I killed seven innocent souls, I’ve released six demons from captivity using Shadowhunter blood, and I’ve brought you the girl. Now, return my son and we’ll be on our way. You can do what you wish with her.”

Belial blinked lazily.

Lucie hadn’t noticed before since her focus was entirely on the prince of hell lounging on Grace’s chiffon bed. The two women broke apart like curtains and resting behind them, on the bench beneath the window like he’d fallen asleep reading a book, was Jesse’s body.

Lucie gasped and took a marginal step closer to him, but stopped.

Death begets death begets death. You cannot take from death without giving to death first and sometimes it takes more than its share.

“Grace!” Lucie reached forward.

Belial snapped his fingers and Tatiana’s body crumpled to the floor with a sickening crack. Her neck lolled to the side like a broken stick. Grace screamed and fell back against the wall behind her just as Jesse gasped from the window seat.

Limbs flailed around as if he were trying to save himself from drowning until he fell to the floor on his hands and knees gasping for breath in lungs that haven’t been used in years. Lucie thought she could hear his heart beating until she realized it was her own. He sat up and clutched his chest, his blue, green eyes darted frantically around the room.

Grace fell to the floor beside him. “Jesse, it’s alright. It’s alright!”

Jesse wouldn’t look at her. His eyes locked on Lucie. “No, what have you done.”

“I haven’t done anything,” said Lucie.

“Then why are you here?” His face turned red in the cheeks. “I told you specifically not to come. Damn it, Lucie, why didn’t you listen.”

Lucie moved back a step. “I did listen. I came here to tell Grace that I no longer wanted to be a part of our agreement. I came here to tell her that I was giving up. I thought I was honoring your wishes. How was I to know that he was waiting here for me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn’t believe me,” groaned Jesse. “I thought you’d think I was bluffing to keep you from trying.”

Lucie scoffed. “And look how well your dishonesty worked out.”

Grace cried over their dead mother and clutched at her thick collar in a feeble attempt to wake her up.

“Enough,” said Belial, growing bored of the exchange in front of him. “I have upheld my bargain. It’s time for us to go.”

“No!” Jesse tried to stand. Belial cocked his head and Jesse fell back against Grace.

“Another move and I’ll kill you again, this time with no chance of return.” Belial’s eyes flickered over to Lucie. “I’ve realized I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I tried to capture the Carstairs girl thinking that she would get you to join me, but she’s far too much trouble. No, there was another pawn hiding right underneath my nose. The Blackthorn boy. It didn’t occur to me until you came to visit Grace and asked for her assistance in bringing him back. She was a good pet and delivered the message to Tatiana who in turn delivered the message to me.”

Lucie glared at Grace with her arms wrapped around Jesse’s shoulders. But how could she blame her? If the tables were reversed and it was James she was trying to revive, she might have done the same. No, she was positive she would have done the same. She’d allowed Jesse to give his last breath to her brother to save his life. In the end, she had been willing to give something up for the life of someone she loved. She could not fault Grace that.

“I’m not going with you,” she said. “The entire clave will be here shortly and you’ll be banished back to whatever level of hell you came from.”

Belial grinned. Despite herself, Lucie found it quite a charming smile. “Wonderful. A family reunion. It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to my daughter. I’ve wondered how she fared all these years.”

“She fared nicely without the likes of you,” said Lucie, cursing herself for not bringing a short blade or at least a couple of throwing knives. She’d left in such a rush, she didn’t find a need. Her uncle was notorious for hiding weapons about the manor. Her aunt was always cursing him about it when they were children and Christopher or Anna would somehow wander down the hallway with a curve blade in their chubby little hands.

The hallway, Lucie nearly gasped as she remembered the cross blades hanging in the hallway.

The door behind her remained open. Only a few steps back and she could make a break for it and at least have a chance at defending herself.

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” said Belial, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Not unless you want me to start breaking bones in their bodies starting with the smallest.” He raised on his hands and folded his fingers. The door slammed behind Lucie and she heard the faint sound of the lock. “We don’t have much time. I have a very short window back into my realm and we’ll need to be going now. That is if you want your friends to live.”

“Lucie.” Jesse fought against Grace’s hold. “Do not go with him. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be alive.”

“How rude,” said Belial. “Do you have any idea how hard your mother and sister worked to bring you back to life. The least you could do is be more grateful.”

“If I go with you,” said Lucie. “If I agree to do what you ask, you’ll promise to leave them alone?”

“You have my word,” grinned Belial and extended his hand towards Lucie.

Every instinct drove her to pull away, to run, but then some stronger instinct took control, and of their own free will her fingers closed round Belial’s. Heat seared down and through her, swift as wildfire chased by wind, and as it moved she felt something strong and heavy wrap around her waist.

Her connection broke with Belial as she was dragged back to the center of the room. She turned her neck and looked up.

“Thomas?”

His face was contorted in rage as he yelled over his shoulder to the hallway, “Now!”

A figure dressed in Shadowhunter gear stepped into the room. Lucie didn’t recognize him at first as his face was hidden behind a curtain of black hair. A spear flew from his hand towards Belial.

Before she could even blink, it’d somehow stopped inches from Belial’s chest, and shot back at the shadow hunter with blinding speed impaling the person in the chest and pinned them to the wall like a collected insect.

It wasn’t until then that Lucie caught a glimpse of the face against the wall. Mouth open and eyes glossy as he stared down at the stick protruding from his chest was Alastair.

A/N: Hope you all are well! Good news, next update is coming in just a short seven days, Dec 13. You know the drill: hit that like, share, leave me comment, and follow along for more updates. Stay safe and stay healthy!

#thelastnight #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #james and Cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie x Jesse #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #chain of gold #Chain of Iron #chain of gold fanfic #cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years ago

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Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter V)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word count: 2,659

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIIIChapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI

Warnings: Drinking, minor sexual harassment (a guy puts a hand on your leg)

Sundown approached quickly, but you made it to your destination before it became dark. Your heels once again sunk into the fabric of the velvet carpet of “HEAVEN”. Mama-san did not stand at the front podium today. Instead, in front of it sat the blonde bartender from the previous day. When she saw you, her visible excitement showed immediately as she bounded towards you.

“You must be Takeuchi-san!” she cried, her high pigtails bouncing behind her. “It is so nice to meet you! You are so pretty!” She grabbed your gloved hands. You could practically see sparkles in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Your eyebrows knit together as you crouched sheepishly, “And you are?” The blonde stumbled back with a gasp that made you jump. You looked about wildly as to find the source of such an extreme reaction, only finding yourself.

“I didn’t introduce myself!” She slapped herself across the cheek. Your eyes widened as wide as your jaw dropped. You probably could have heard the smack from across the room. How do you respond to that? She shook herself out of it before you could figure it out. She bowed deeply, “I am Chiasa Fuse! It is very nice to meet you!”

“Um… hello, Fus-”

“Please call me Chi-chan! Oh, I should have just told you that from the beginning… That’s what everyone else calls me!” She looked down, playing with the hem of her white, floral gown. Tears appeared in her waterline. You took a breath, you could definitely not get touched by this one.

“So… I’m guessing Daisuke-san arranged for you to show me the ropes?” Chiasa snapped up, tears near gone at this point as she exclaimed,

“Yes! Of course!” She took your hands again, leading you off and you silently thanked Kami for your thick gloves.

Only staff populated the main lounge between custodial workers who disinfected tables to the hostesses who were waiting for opening. Daisuke sat at the bar where you found Guy. Guy’s appearance did not differ much from the previous night. The black button up had been traded in for a white one and a bowtie sat between his collarbones. You pursed your lips. Your eyes meeting Guy’s, you gave him a playful look of approval. He winked in subtle response.

“Ah! Takeuchi-san!” Daisuke roared. He held up his drink. “This man makes the best daiquiri I’ve ever tasted! Why didn’t you tell me that I’d be in for the experience of a lifetime?!” He cackled, turning back to Guy who gave a humble chuckle. You returned the expression.

“Unfortunately, I did not know Aoki-san before coming here.” You told him politely. “Believe me, if I knew I would have told you!”

“Oooh, yes I heard you journeyed from the Leaf! I hear that place is full of savage ninja.” Chiasa gossiped.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in action next, my dear,” Daisuke told you. He hesitated. “You do know we have a room for the girls to prepare in, correct? You don’t have to make the trip here all dolled up.” Chiasa yelped again.

“I was just taking her there, Daisuke-san!”

“Wonderful, you are in exceptional hands then!” Chiasa tugged you towards the same entrance to the right of the bar.

“Always a pleasure, Daisuke-san.” You made one last smile at the two men before you were tugged down the hall.

Chiasa opened the first door. You glanced to your left at Daisuke’s office door at the end of the hall before you were pulled into the room. The walls were lined with vanities and they sat back to back in a row down the middle. There were only about 6 girls in the otherwise empty room.

“Hey ladies! We got someone new working with us!” Chiasa announced to the room. “This is Takeuchi Yume!” You couldn’t get a word in as Chiasa then dragged you over to a stool in front of a vanity against the right hand wall. The other girls hardly batted an eye. She sat down at the one next to it, looking at you expectantly with her hands under her chin. You slowly lowered yourself onto to sit.

“This is mine?” You asked.

“Yep! And it’s right next to mine!” Joy. You took in your new space. The table held three drawers: one on the top left, a long one in the middle, and one on the top right. A tri fold mirror sat in front of you, a ring light clipped onto the top and hanging down. The top had been cleaned off, but dust remained in the crevices where the mirror met the table. “You can store all your cosmetics here and I cleared you a space in the closet.” Chiasa motioned to the back of the room. “We share dresses here a lot, but if you don’t want anyone to touch something of yours, you can just put your name on it. You should bring your things in tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Chi-chan, I really appreciate it.” She reached out to give your hair a puff.

“It looks like you don’t need any of my help when it comes to the aesthetics! I can tell you’re that classy type… though I’ll tell you, you shouldn’t be afraid of going overboard a little, especially if you want to get into the back lounge.”

“Ugh, you gotta be lucky and damn popular to get into there. Don’t even try.” An exasperated sigh came from your right. You turned, watching the hostess wrestle with a large hairpiece. The brunette piece sat in a beehive on her head. Her hands tussled with the clips.

“What’s in the back lounge?” You wondered. The new hostess smoothed out her hair in the mirror before turning to you.

“It’s where the men talk their business of course.” The woman told you. She extended a hand, “Yuzuki, the girls call me Yu-Yu.” You took her hand graciously.

“They always order a lot of drinks. It’s one of the big reasons everyone wants back there. The commission is huge!” Chiasa explained, her lips scrunched. “There’s always so many of them!”

“And who doesn’t like a bit of gossip?” Yuzuki’s voice rang silkily in your ears. “Of course, you have to be invited and pray you won’t end up at the bottom of Lightning Bay.” You eyed her curiously.

“Why’s that?” You questioned. Yuzuki blinked at you, eyes widened in surprise. She gave out a small laugh. Reaching into one of her drawers, she took out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. Plucking one out, she lit it, taking a drag.

“Honey,” Amusement carried in her voice. She locked eyes with you. “This is the Hidden Sound. If Orochimaru’s boys want you, they’re going to take you and sure as hell won’t hesitate to kill you either, dear.”

“But you won’t have to deal with them, Takeuchi-san!” Chiasa reminded you quickly, leaning forward to hiss at Yuzuki. “You’re scaring her!”

“No,” You denied, turning back to Yuzuki, “I want to hear more about the back lounge.” Yuzuki took another long drag of her cigarette, blowing it out the side of her mouth. The door to the dressing room swung open.

“It’s almost time!” Another hostess announced into the room. “Thirty more minutes to opening!” She shut the door.

“Another time,” She sighed. Yuzuki hiked up her gown, maneuvering around her stool. “My regulars are an unsavory group of men, but they pay my rent. I want to get in a few drinks to prepare.”

“You drink on the job?” She huffed, taking one last puff.

“We’re drinking all night, dear. That’s what brings in the cash. I swear, it’s the only way to do this job.” Yuzuki put out her snout out in the ashtray on her vanity and quickly disappeared through the door.

“Oh, Takeuchi-san!” You turned towards Chiasa, who once again, gripped your hands tightly.

“Please, you can call me Yume, Chi-chan.” Chiasa’s eyes sparkled.

“Yume-san-”

“No need to be so formal, really, Chi-chan.” She took a trembling breath.

“Yume, I’m so happy to work with you! You’ll be rotating tables with me tonight.” Chiasa looked down at your gloves. “You’re going to take these off, right?” You hesitated.

“Yes, of course.” You slowly slipped them off your hands, placing them on the vanity. Chiasa stood abruptly.

“Alright! Let’s go!” She showed you out the door. “So you’re new here, so pretty much the goal for tonight is to get you out there! We get bonuses for bringing in regulars, so we’ll be rotating tables. A lot of groups get pretty rowdy so you’ll always have a few of us gals by your side! Now, the customers aren’t supposed to get too handsy… ” Chiasa’s voice faded in your ears as you caught sight of the bar. “Think of it all like a game! That’s how I think of it, like pretend!...”

The entire cast of hostesses must have been gathered around the bar and Guy was the center of their attention. A single cup sat on the counter as Guy juggled four liquor bottles. The containers bounced off his wrists and elbows. One landed on his forehead, two balanced on his left bicep, and the last he caught in a reverse grip, pouring the last of the drink. The women clapped as he pushed the drink to the woman at the center.

“Wow,” Chiasa exhaled. You realized that you stopped to watch and somewhere along the way, Chiasa had ceased talking. “Genki-san is amazing.”

“Okay, girls. You can all ogle at closing.” Mama-san walked briskly into the lounge, waving her arms. Her sleeves waved like butterfly wings as she motioned.

“Mama-san!” Guy greeted jovially. “Might I interest you in a drink?” The older woman adjusted herself.

“No thank you, Genki. While the offer is much appreciated, you are distracting my girls.” She told him sternly.

“Apologies ma’am, I’ll try not to let it happen again.” That answer seemed to satisfy Mama-san. She strutted down the hall to Daisuke’s office.

Not too long after opening, you had your first table. You and Chiasa sat down at a booth of Sound Ninja. You looked at the table, noticing a large laminated sheet. On it showed the faces of the groups of hostesses working with small descriptions by their faces. Just as demeaning as you imagined…

“Hiya boys!” Chiasa winked. “What are we drinking tonight?” She leaned seductively over the table and the ninja gave a rowdy cheer. She made it look effortless, wrapping each one around her finger one by one. Chiasa turned to you, pulling you close to her. “Yume-chan, let’s get a round of champagne for these gentlemen!” She went around, plopping herself in the middle of two.

You sighed in relief as you went off to grab the champagne. Something about locking eyes with Guy at the bar sent a wave of relief through your system. As the only familiar person in a hundred foot radius, it shouldn’t have surprised you. You relayed the order and in no time he had a tray prepared. Guy’s eyes met yours. With a small smile, he gave a slight nod of his head in encouragement. It settled your nerves, but not by much as you walked back to the booth. Setting the tray on the table, you plucked up one flute.

Following Chiasa’s lead, you sat between the two other men. She had the group laughing as the compliments kept rolling from her tongue.

“Evening… gentlemen.” You greeted stiffly. Chiasa remained in your peripheral and you attempted your best mimicry. “I’d imagine two… strapping young ninja such as yourselves would… um… want to be doing something much more dangerous…” You cringed inwardly. The ninja on your left chuckled.

“We’re here to blow off steam, sweetheart, not talk about work.” A hand made its way to your thigh, resting on the fabric of your dress. You looked down, the hand and your drink in your focus. You gulped and unlike last night, angry heat did not rise up your spine. Instead, inklings of fear spread throughout your system as you suddenly felt helplessness set in. You gripped your drink tightly, choosing to force a giggle as you quickly downed your beverage.

“Whoa there!” The ninja to your right exclaimed, an arm coming to sling over your shoulder. He flicked his sloppy black bangs to the side. “He said ‘blow off some steam’ not ‘black out’! You know you’re supposed to sip changaene, right?” Those words sounded familiar. You set the empty glass on the tray. You took in the man’s words and choppy black hair. You thought about Guy’s mini student. If he was older, he might end up looking like the ninja sitting next to you.

You were already feeling warmth from the burn on the back of your throat. Your lips puckered for a moment at the sourness. The heat gathered in your chest. You reached up, caressing his high cheekbones. You thought about Guy’s cheekbones, how easy talking to him was last night.

“Well, this is a party, isn’t it?” Your hand came to envelop the one on your thigh. With subtlety, you worked it down your leg. “What do we say? Are we ready for something stronger?” The table whooped in excitement and you made a swanky show of getting up to get the drinks.

You traveled to the bar once more, twice, three times. The more you drank, the looser you got. The more you drank, the more the ninja to your right looked like Might Guy. You sat happily between the two ninja, telling anecdotes. You weren’t sure if you were actually funny or if it was just the alcohol, but the anxiety slowly began to dissipate.

“You really pretended to be the daimyō’s daughter?” The ninja to the left of Chiasa questioned, nearly in tears.

“No one noticed for the whole day.” You held your hands up dramatically. The whole booth was in hysterics. You felt the rumble of the two men next to you. You looked up at the clock. Their time was up.

“Oh no!” Chiasa gasped. “It looks like we’ve run out of time!” She pouted. “Would you like a time extension?” The ninja began to shift in their seats and stood.

“No, thank you darling. We’ll be back soon to visit, don’t worry, beautiful.” One of the ninja slipped a few ryō into Chiasa’s dress. The whole lot of them paid the tab and left.

You and Chiasa cleared the table, taking to the trays to the small kitchen across from the dressing room and behind the bar. You got your second, third and fourth tables shortly after and the more tables, the drunker you became. The words slipped out of your mouth with ease: the flattery, the flirting.

You were at your fifth table when you saw it. In your peripheral came a small group of men walking into the door to the left of the bar. The back room, you assumed. A woman trailed behind them. The woman sat at the bar and stayed there until closing.

You watched as one by one, they disappeared through the entrance. You found yourself staring and a mask staring back at you. Silver tuffs peaked out behind it. The masked figure slowly brought up an arm. The holes in his mask were black, neverending. You suddenly felt more sober. His fingers folded, he pointed directly at you. When you blinked, he was gone. You took a drink.

You rid your mind of the masked mystery man. When you left, you saw the woman waiting outside. She didn’t acknowledge you. The men in the back room remained after closing, but you were urged by Chiasa to leave. Guy stayed behind to serve drinks so you walked home alone.

You made it back to your lodgings with no issue, but out of the corner of your eye, you thought that you saw silver.

#might guy #might guy x reader #might guy relationship #Maito Gai #maito gai x reader #maito guy #Maito guy relationship #x you #x reader #reader insert #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 5 years ago

Text

Imprisoned - Series

Chapter I

Story Rating: 14+

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Mentions of Murder, Language

Summary: Y/N is Andy and Laurie Barber’s 14-year-old daughter who is a high-grade student in Archer Middle School. Her best friend, Alice Miller had been gone for a while. They search for the lost student and find out that Alice Miller’s body has the prints of Andy and Laurie Barber’s daughter, Y/N.

Author’s Note: Not sure if I should make this a series, this is basically a daughter and dad situation. I DO NOT know what happens in DEFENDING JACOB. So don’t think I know it if I get these episodes correct. (Which I won’t)

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII

Spoiler free but will soon be spoiler alerts!

The song that reminds me about the readers character is Fitzpleasure by Alt-J Idk why

~~~

Going over the papers once again. This stress is getting to his head. Shoving the papers off to the side, he sighs. Needing to move on to some other case than that. His phone buzzes on the desk and he sees his wife’s name pop up. Taking the energy to take his phone, he looks at her message.

You busy?

He types in his phone with ‘a little bit’. He was curious was she needed so he replied with a ‘why?’.

Your daughter needs a ride.

The man looks at the time on his desk. It was 10 minutes after their last bell. He texts her back and picks up the papers, organizing them a little bit before grabbing his bag.

He walks out of his office and heads out, “Mr. Barber, you’re heading out?” The woman asks. The man turns around, “I gotta pick up my daughter. I’ll sure be back. If someone calls in for me, tell them to call me back.”

The woman nods, “All right. See ya, Mr. Barber.”

The man nods with a grin and pushes out the doors. He gets into his car and pulls out of the parking lot. He pulls out his phone and sees his daughter’s text.

I’m at the park :)

He drops his phone into the cup holder and drives towards the school. The students continuing to leave the building as he keeps driving up the street towards the park. The park he would take her sometimes as a little kid. There was a forest near that park and she would go back there and find some cool sticks she would bring home and play as if she was a knight in their backyard.

He sees the park come into view and two girls on the swings. He pulls up to the sidewalk and rolls his window down.

The two girls laughed as they swung back and forth. He smiled at them and a few seconds later, one of the girls brought their attention to him. “Oh, he’s here!” The girl says, she hops off the swing and grabs her bag.

Her friend follows her as they rushed up to the car. “Hey, dad!” The girl says, the man smiles at her. “Hey, champ.”

The girl grips on her backpack, “Is it okay if we take Alice to her mom’s house?” The girl asked. The dark-haired girl peaks over the other, “I’m sorry, Mr. Barber. It’s just my dad isn’t getting off work for another 3 hours and my mom is stuck at the store.” The man nods.

“Sure, I’m happy to drive you home. Hop in girls,” He says.

The girl smiles, “Thanks, dad.” The girl lets Alice hop in first and scoots over to the other side as the h/c girl sits next to her. “How was school?” The man asked.

“It was good. How was work?” His daughter asked.

He placed his hand on top of the wheel, glancing in the rear mirror to see them buckle their seat belts. “It was good. Your mother texted me to get you, so I might have to return back to work.”

“That’s okay. Mom was asking me to help her with some things around the house. We can finish the show tomorrow,” She says.

“That’s right, we’re both off. Spring break, right?” He asked.

“Yep,” She says. He grins and drives away from the park. He hears the two chatter in the back, laughing and pointing at their phones of funny or cute things on their devices. He tilts his head to the side to relief the pain in his neck. “How was practice, Y/N?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh, it was raining a little bit so the field was a bit too wet to play,” He looks back at his daughter Y/N who was rolling the soccer ball in her lap as she glanced at Alice’s phone. The two continued to laugh and chatter as he gotten closer to Alice’s neighborhood.

He pulls up to the light blue house and stops right behind her mother’s second car that was a dark van. “All right, Alice. It was nice seeing you again,” He says.

“Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

“Bye, Alice,” Y/N says, Alice grabs her bag and waves. “Bye!” She closes the door and she heads into her home, unlocking it herself and heads in. Y/N throws her backpack into the front and slides between the two front seats and sits in the passengers side.

“You got to stop doing that, Y/N.”

“What?” She smiles. He grins at her, “You’re too old now.”

“Says the old man, himself,” Y/N says, he shakes his head and pulls out of Alice’s neighborhood. “Did you get your test today?” He asked. Y/N shook her head, “No. Mrs. Lim wasn’t there today. Apparently, she left for her trip to Tokyo.”

“Tokyo? What’s over there?”

“Her family. Her mother’s birthday was coming up in a few days,” Y/N says, he hums, “And how do you know that?” He asked. Y/N looks at him, “Because me and Mrs. Lim always hang out during lunch! She likes me and Alice in the class.”

He nods, “All right, all right. What about that one kid? What’s his name again?”

“Henry?”

“Yeah, how’s his mom doing at the department? I haven’t seen her since the last pot luck,” He says, Y/N nods her head this time. “She’s good. His dad has to pick him up more because his mom is always taking late night shifts from 3 to 12.”

“Really? Nine hours of work?” He asked, Y/N nods, “It’s police work, you know?” His daughter was a student in Archer Middle. Top student and she has a big dream ahead of her. She wanted to be like her dad. A district attorney. He let her follow that and even filled her in with some of his cases he had been working on.

They were getting closer to the end of the school year and were glad to get it done. Y/N was their only child and couldn’t ask for a better daughter. She was kind, energetic and a good sense of humor.

He reached their house and stopped in front of the driveway, spotting his wife’s car. “You got yourself from here?” He asked, Y/N digs into her bag, “Yep!”

She pulls out her keys, “Thanks, dad.” She leans over and kisses his cheek. He smiled at her, “You behave yourself till I get back,” He says. She steps out and leans in to look at him.

“I will. Love you!” She closes the door and walks around to go up their lawn. “Love you too!” He shouts back, he sees the front door open to his wife and she kisses Y/N’s head before heading down over to him.

His wife smiles at him and leans into his window, kissing him. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“I still got stuff to do, I’ll try and make it for dinner.”

“Andy...” She says, he grins, “I’ll be here in time for dinner, I promise,” He says. Laurie gives him a nod and pulls away, “You should not work too hard, your daughter is insisting on finishing that show.” He slightly laughs, Y/N was into her crime drama shows.

“I’ll try not to.” She gives him a soft smile and walks back into the house. He rolls his window back up and drives off. His hand on top of the wheel, he drives back to his office.

Y/N drops her bag next to her desk and plops onto her bed with her phone in hand. Without knowing, something jumps on the bed and licks her face. “Aye! Milo!” Y/N says. She tries to push her Pointer hound who wagged his tail furiously.

Milo was from Andy’s friends a while back, the dog was a well-trained hunter and he needed a home.

Andy got the dog for Y/N and they became best buddies. Y/N watched as Milo sprawls out on her bed and begs for a belly rub. Y/N smiles and rubs his belly. “Y/N, sweetheart! Can you help me with the dishes?” Her mother calls.

“Coming! Come on, bubs,” She jumps up with her dog and they rush into the kitchen.

It was past 9 at night and Andy had returned. Opening his garage door, he parks his black small car into it. Closing the door afterwards, he walks into his home. The sound of the television going off and sound of the Live PD show played.

Andy walks into the kitchen to see his wife by the sink. Dropping his keys on the counter, that got his wife’s attention. “Hey,” He kisses her and turns to the table to see a plate that hadn’t been washed yet. It might’ve been Y/N’s.

He sighs, knowing he had missed dinner. Laurie scrubs the dishes as he looks at her, “I’m sorry, I tried to get as much done.”

“She’s more upset than I am,” Laurie said, Andy looks over to the living room and walks in the dark room only lit by the huge screen TV.

He walks around the couch to see Y/N and Milo spooning. Her eyes were closed as Andy kneels in front of her view of the TV. He gently pushes a strand behind her ear and that made her open her eyes up.

“Hey...” He says, softly, Y/N doesn’t say anything and closes her eyes again. He pierced his lips, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I tried to.” She doesn’t reply and he reaches over to pet Milo.

Sighing, he stands up and walks back into the kitchen. Laurie looks over her shoulder, “You hungry?” She asked. He shakes his head, “I’m okay. Thank you.” She grabs the plate off the table and brings it to the sink.

Scrubbing off the food, Andy walks away and tugs his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it in his bedroom on the chair. Pulling his tie off, he unbuttons his shirt and heads over to the drawer. He tossed his shirt and tie in the basket and grabbed a t-shirt. He slips that on and sits on the edge of his bed to take his dress shoes off.

Laurie came in and leaned on the door frame. “She still loves you.”

Andy slips out of his pants and throws them in the basket as well, “I know. But I just feel like a prick either way,” He says.

Laurie tilts her head, “Why do you think that?”

“A father should be there for their kid. She has games and everyone but me doesn’t go. I never went to one single game.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad parent, An,” She says, crossing her arms. He slips on sweats. “It makes me feel like one. The only thing we do is watch her favorite show and that’s it. I take her friend home and I don’t go out with you guys.”

“You don’t have to worry about us. We know you love us, but don’t let it get to you and make you feel like you can’t do much for us. We already know you are doing so much of it. We love you either way.” He sighs, dropping his head. Laurie comes over to the edge of the bed, pulling his head to her stomach.

Her hands caressing his head as he wraps his arms around her hips. Something they did when Laurie had a huge bump.

“Y/N loves you. She won’t ever hate you.”

“Ready?” Y/N asked, she holds the ball up to Milo, “Fetch!” She throws the ball out in the backyard and Milo runs after it. She watched as Milo jumps up and down at the ball’s movements before catching it into his mouth and returning it.

“Good boy!” She kneels down and takes the ball. “Wanna go again?” She shakes the ball in her hand, Milo barks. “Go get it!” She throws it and he runs off. Not knowing her father had walked out and watched her with a small grin.

Y/N knelt down for Milo but the hound runs past her and towards Andy. Begging Andy to throw it, he takes the ball. One swift throw, Milo runs for the ball across the backyard and Andy walks up to Y/N.

“Did you want to watch ‘Cage of the Past’?” He asked, the show was her favorite crime drama show on Netflix and they were on the third season out of eight. She gets the ball from Milo.

“Actually I was gonna ask if I can go to a party.”

“When? With who?” Andy asked. Y/N slightly shrugged, “Henry and Alice were gonna be there. It was at a girl’s house, named Emily. It’s her birthday,” Y/N said. Andy knew having his daughter out a lot, it worried him. He would have to make sure she had a ride home.

“Who’s gonna take you home?” He asked. “Alice’s dad was gonna take me home. I told them they can bring me back around nine.” Andy thought about this hard enough. Ride was given. Phone? Clothing? Right, what she said. Time.

“You promise to be back by 9?” He asked, Y/N nods. He sighs, “Okay. I trust you. You stay at that house.”

Y/N nods once again, “I’ll text you when we’re heading back over.” He nods at her and she throws the ball out to the yard one last time.

“You’re letting her go out to a party?” Laurie asked, she turns to lean on the counter, facing Andy. “It’s just a birthday party. Alice and Y/N were gonna come back after it ends.”

“Will she be back around 9?”

“I told her about coming home and she understands.” Laurie nods, “Okay, so we just keep an eye on our phones.” Andy nods in agreement. Y/N steps down into the kitchen from upstairs and she heads for the door. “Y/N, where’s your phone?” Laurie calls.

Y/N lifts up her phone, “It’s fully charged! I’ll text you guys, okay?” She says, Laurie smiles. “Okay, have fun.”

“Thanks mom. Love you both!” The two watched her leave that front door and stepped into Alice’s car with her father. Laurie watched the vehicle disappear and she sighs. “I hope they’re not having alcohol there.”

Andy smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be responsible.” Laurie looks at him and grins.

Let’s hope she is.

~~~

TAGS:

@jtargaryen18 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @chrisevans-imagines @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @elliee1497 @princess-evans-addict @chrisevans-source

#andy barber x daughter!reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #daughter!reader #chris evans #defending jacob #laurie barber #cevans #murder #novel #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers

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maraudererasmut · 5 years ago

Text

Black and White (Part XXXIII)

Remus followed his friends into Chez Bijou as James’ car was driven off by the valet out front. The restaurant was still a culture shock for the artist, but he was significantly more comfortable than the last time he was there. As they were escorted to their table, Sirius kept his hand protectively on Remus’ back, guiding him towards his seat.

Sirius pulled out Remus’ chair for him, the same way James pulled out his wife’s. Remus glanced over to Lily with a questioning look, but she simply smiled in return.

“Uh… thanks…” he mumbled to Sirius as he sat down. Sirius took the seat beside him, his eyes remaining focused on the artist. Remus felt like he was on display and he wasn’t sure if he loved the sensation or hated it.

“So!” James began, drawing the table’s attention to himself. “Sirius tells me you guys might have some news to share?”

Remus felt Sirius’ gaze on him, but he purposefully ignored it, glancing at Lily instead. Lily gave Remus an understanding nod before she answered her husband.

“Yeah! Dorcas and Marlene represent a film studio who’s looking for some paintings for a shoot. They asked Remus and I to produce three pieces each within the next two weeks!”

“That’s amazing!” James’ smile was so wide, it was almost as if he were the artist in question. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

Sirius was beaming proudly down at Remus, who couldn’t shake the sense of guilt that had settled in the pit of his stomach. The artist looked up at his boyfriend, trying to keep his face calm.

“You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus.

“Would it be a problem if I did?”

Remus’ stomach churned and he felt a lump forming in the back of his throat.

“Sirius…” He began quietly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t want you doing things for me just because we’re… you know…”

“Remus,” Sirius responded, loud enough for the entire table to hear. “You’re showing in my gallery. For the duration of this exhibition, I am representing you. You are one of my artists. When Dorcas and Marlene approached me and asked if I knew of any artists who fit their criteria, I recommended both you and Lily, because I felt that you were best suited for the job.”

“So… it wasn’t because of… anything else?” Remus asked, fiddling with the napkin that had been placed in his lap by a server.

“I did my job as your gallerist, Remus. It’s mutually beneficial. When you succeed in the art world, so do I. I would have done the same for any artist who I represent.”

Sirius’ statement gave Remus pause for a moment.

“How many artists do you represent?” He asked cautiously. It wasn’t a question he had thought to ask before.

Sirius responded with a shrug.

“Five or six. Why do you ask?”

“I just… it never crossed my mind that there were other artists. I just… didn’t think of that…”

Sirius let out a deep chuckle and reached for the bowl of bread in the center of the table. He casually took a bite out of a piece of focaccia before grinning at his boyfriend.

“You know, I wouldn’t be a very good gallery owner if I only ever showed two artists, Remus.”

He made a valid point. Remus glanced down at the empty plate in front of him. There was still so much he didn’t know about his boyfriend and the gallery business.

“Speaking of which…” Lily’s voice carried across the table, catching Remus’ attention. He looked up at his friend, who had her eyebrows raised. When Remus didn’t respond, she continued. “Dorcas had asked Remus and I if you were representing us, Sirius. Of course, I know that I’m signed on with you indefinitely, but as far as I know, Remus is only working with Black and White until the end of this show, right?”

“That’s true,” Sirius remarked, raising a brow. He turned to Remus, an expectant smile on his face. “What do you say, Remus? Interested in coming on as a permanent artist with us?”

Remus hesitated for a moment, remembering their conversation from the previous evening and the card that was slipped into his jacket pocket. He hadn’t mentioned his exchange with Caradoc to anyone yet. He also distinctly remembered one of Sirius’ ground rules explicitly stated that they would not let their personal lives get in the way of professional decisions.

“Well,” Remus admitted guiltily. “I was approached by someone at the show yesterday… He mentioned that his gallery would be interested in displaying some of my work, and I know Black and White requires exclusive ri—“

Remus cut himself off when he noticed the colour drain from every single face at the table. He kept his mouth shut for a moment, waiting for somebody to explain what he had done wrong, before three voices suddenly started shouting at him at once.

"Someone approached you at the show, Rem—"

"-- plan to sign on with another gallery?"

"--was their name? Was it Na— "

"--can't possibly think they're better than Si— "

"--fter everything we've been through you sti—"

"--bably another Black from the sounds of—"

"Stop!"

Remus thumped his fist on the table, directing everyone's attention towards himself. He glared firmly at his group of friends, making sure to make eye contact with each of them.

"For Christ's sake, I can't understand you when you all talk at once! One at a time! Jesus!" Remus turned to his left and looked at Lily. "You first."

Lily looked taken-aback. She blinked in surprise before gathering herself and starting.

"As one of Sirius' artists, I can honestly say, I don't think you'll find better representation in the city. I really mean that, Remus…"

Remus nodded at his friend.

"Understood. James? What were you saying?" Remus turned to look expectantly at the man across the table from him.

"Oh… uh… just that…" In all the time that Remus had known the man, he had never seen James at a loss for words before. "Who was it who approached you? Because if it was another member of the Black family—"

"His name was Caradoc Dearborn."

James furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Who's that?"

"Tall, dark and handsome? He has blonde hair? Anyway, this is his card."

Remus pulled the card out of his pants pocket and handed it to James, who was studying it so hard, he seemed to be trying to memorize it.

"You… brought it with you?"

Remus heard Sirius' voice to the right of him, but refused to look at the gallery owner. Why did he feel so guilty? Wasn't this something that he and Sirius had discussed?

Remus shrugged, trying to pretend he couldn't hear the hurt in Sirius' voice.

"I figured it would be easier to ask about him if I had the card with me," Remus lied. The artist was never particularly good at lying, but he was afraid the truth would make Sirius feel worse; Remus had brought the card with him because he was considering checking out the other gallery that day, just to see what it was like.

"...Do I get to voice my objections now?"

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and turning to Sirius.

"Yes. Go ahead, Sirius."

"After everything that's happened… after these past few weeks, you accept the business card of a stranger at the gallery show that I put on for you?"

Sirius' eyes were clouded with anger, but Remus could tell that he was trying to keep it at bay.

"I didn't accept his card. He put it into my pocket. I just… I figured there was no harm in bringing it up with you guys." Remus glanced around the table at the faces of his friends. "Clearly I was wrong."

Remus watched as Sirius' face darkened, his jaw hardening. He noticed Sirius tilt his chin up, the thin line of his mouth tightening. Remus knew what was coming before the words even left the gallery owner's mouth.

"If you want to switch to another gallery, go ahead." Sirius said, a tinge of malice in his voice. "It's fine by me."

Remus rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

"That's not what I said, Sirius, and you know it." The artist was beginning to tire of Sirius' games and the way he resorted to juvenile passive aggression. On the bright side, at least Sirius' behaviour was predictable.

"You're sitting here, the day after your opening night, with someone else's business card in our hand," Sirius growled, his fists tightening. "Is there another way that I should be interpreting this?"

"Sirius…" James began in a warning voice, but he was met with a glare from the gallery owner.

"Fuck off, James," he spat, before turning on Remus again. "I can't believe this, Remus. I thought you were better than that."

Remus straightened his posture and steeled his expression.

"Sirius, you said not to make any business decisions based on personal feelings. But more importantly, I haven't done anything yet. I told you about someone who gave me a card. Stop being a jealous prick."

Sirius was about to retort when the waiter came by to take their orders. Sirius closed his mouth and glued a fake smile to his face while he told the server what kind of steak he would like. Remus hated the way Sirius could turn his charm on and off; not only was it frustrating, but it made reading his boyfriend nearly impossible at times.

After the table had ordered their food and wine was poured, the conversation recommenced, albeit in hushed voices.

"Sirius," Lily chimed in after James and Sirius had a whispered row. "I think Remus just wanted to be open and honest with you, letting you know exactly what happened. You shouldn't fault him for that."

Sirius turned on Lily.

"Really? Is that why he brought up the fact that business decisions were separate from personal matters?"

"Stop it, Sirius!" Remus' voice was louder than he intended, but the desired effect was achieved. All three friends looked at the artist with mild surprise. "You said you would work on handling things more maturely! You're acting like a spoiled brat, Sirius. This is a terrible way to start a relationship."

Sirius' face went through several changes upon hearing Remus' words. He looked shocked, upset, dismayed, until he finally settled on a dejected pout. Remus felt a slight twinge of remorse for being so careless with his phrasing, but he knew Sirius needed to hear it.

The food arrived just in time to help ease the tension, but conversation was few and far between as the four friends sat and ate their meals. By the time everyone was finished, the heaviness that hung in the air was stifling, the tension palpable.

All four of them filed into James' car in silence, and Remus and Sirius faced opposite windows in the back seat, purposefully keeping their knees from touching. The ride back to Black and White was the most uncomfortable car ride that Remus had ever endured.

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rinrinp42 · 4 years ago

Note

For Time Traveling Husbands, how did Jango and Obi-wan meet? What made Jango go 'yep, that's the one, that's gonna be my riddur someday.' Or was that on Obi-wan's side of things?

Sorry it took a day - yesterday I had a migraine and to write would have made me stab my head istg. But! Here’s how they met! (plus I get to let everyone both know that Obi’s Finder was the Mandalorian Knight (he founded them - Tarre Vizsla most likely would have been later) and an OC who’ll show up later too). Right now there’s no “gonna be my riddur someday” because Obi’s 15 - that happens later when Obi comforts him after Cassus Fett/in 32480 TYA (3973 BBY)

32478 TYA (3975 BBY), Kiffu:

Jango grumbled as he moved through the city. He understood that Republic citizens might not enjoy going to war with Mando’ade[i], but you’d think hiring one would mean that you at least would treat them with respect. But no, as soon as he had arrived to deliver the bounty it had been badly veiled insults and pushing for him to leave. And without the full payment. Or taking the prisoner.

Ugh, and they called Mando’ade barbarians. At least they had honor.

By the Ka’ra[ii] he was going to plant himself like a varos[iii] vine on this planet until they paid him!

“Move!” a young voice called out, pulling Jango’s attention

That was all the warning he got before he got an armful of a teenage boy. Somehow, no doubt a combination of the inertia of the boy and Jango’s own surprise, they stumbled into an alley. The boy – still growing into himself, red hair in a short, spikey style – kept trying to push Jango along. He dug his heels in as he took in the cream-colored robe the boy was sporting. Jetii-ad[iv]. But what was one doing trying to herd Jango around? And where was the older one he’d have to be with?

The boy rolled his eyes with a huff, “Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur[v].”

“Me’ven[vi]?” Jango was so shocked by this Jetii’ad speaking Mando’a that he let himself be shoved a bit further along.

“We need to move verd[vii].”

This was just too bizarre.

“How do you know-”

Jango was cut off by blaster-fire hitting the wall next to them.

Well. That explained why the Jetii’ad wanted them to move. And Jango agreed with the notion – he didn’t want to start to shoot up a civilian market and get tossed from this planet before getting paid. Jango stopped resisting and moved forward, following the Jetii’ad – after all, his kind were known to have ori’jate[viii] instincts.

He was right. They turned the corner down one alley just as a woman – close to Jango’s age, darkish skin, dark hair long on top with shaved sides, yellow qukuuf[ix] cutting across her face under her eyes.

“In here, quick,” she hissed. They slid in behind her and the door closed. Moments later the sounds of whoever had been chasing them went past the door.

“Not sure why those Tentase sleemo are after you two, but best lay low for a while before heading back out,” she turned to them, brown eyes calculating.

“Much obliged mistress,” the Jetii’ad bowed.

The Kiffar scoffed, “’m no ‘mistress’ kid. The name’s Senni, Senni Vos. Just use my name.”

The Jetii’ad nodded gravely at that, “I am Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Jango Fett,” Jango added, removing his buy’ce[x] so he could eye the- so he could eye Kenobi.

“Not sure I’m really involved; the kid basically took me hostage.”

Jango pressed his lips together, trying not to grin as Kenobi huffed.

“They weren’t shooting before they saw you,” Kenobi said, “but overall, I think sleemo is far too accurate. I came here on a Mission regarding a Hutt Clan.”

Jango winced as Vos whistled low.

“I knew that they were up to some shady business, but didn’t realize they threw in with the Hutts,” she said, “Like I said before, you two can hole up here for a bit.”

With that she wandered off, going back to her own business for the time being.

“So,” Jango began, sitting on Vos’s couch, “where does a Jetii’ad learn Mando’a? I doubt the Republic has anyone fluent to teach.”

Kenobi blinked at him and sat next to him.

“They don’t, not really. My Finder knew it and, well, he’s probably the closest to a parent I have,” Kenobi saw the look on Jango’s face and huffed his own laugh, “my birth parent died when I was still a baby, and the rest of my family couldn’t take me in when he came.”

Jango felt a bit better – there were too many rumors about Jetiise[xi] being baby stealers. At least this one was more of an adoption, even if Jango wasn’t sure why his own family couldn’t take him.

“But how did your Finder,” Jango let the term roll around in his mouth as he asked, “know Mando’a?”

“My Finder was Dorjander Kace. He was caught during the Great Sith Wars and met a Mando’ad by the name of Varda. They married. But she died during a bombing raid. Dorjander went back to the Order after the War, but he took a while to do so and arrived with me. He kept track of me over the years and taught me some Mando’a.”

Jango nodded. A reasonable tale – many Mando’ade had found riduur[xii] across the battlefield. He’d have to figure out what Clan Varda had been part of – they’d want to know that in some way they had a second Jetii in their line.

But that’d have to wait. He still needed to get paid and now he had to deal with the Hutt henchmen. Speaking of which….

“If these Tentase don’t want you investigating, why would they shoot at me?” Jango wondered.

Kenobi blinked at him and then let out a string of curses that would have made a Corellian blush. Jango raised his eyebrows and noted a few for future use.

“Why are you here?” Kenobi asked.

“I’m here to deliver a bounty, but they won’t let me see the primary – Sheyfs Larin Vel.”

“Who’s your bounty?” the boy was intense, Jango could practically see him making connections as he gained more information.

“Normally I don’t talk bounties with anyone who’s not the client,” Jango said.

“I really think now’s the time to make an exception.”

“Some guy who was selling security information.”

Kenobi frowned, eyes unfocusing before his attention snapped back to Jango.

“I think your bounty, my mission about the Hutts trying to expand, and these Tentase are all the same.”

Jango stared at him, seeing the connections – a information seller being brought back before he was able to give the information he shouldn’t have to his buyers, the Hutts. The Tentase who couldn’t be working alone as the contact point on Kiffar who had sent the bounty off. But Jango had been hired to bring him in and they couldn’t let the seller tell the Sheyfs who got him the information, so they had done their best to delay him, maybe even hoping that he would get too frustrated and decide it was better to bring his bounty in cold as a statement.

“Well, Jetii’ad, looks like we should work together then.”

Kenobi grinned at him, sharp as a kal[xiii].

[i] Mandalorians – lit. Children of Mandalor

[ii] Stars (ancient Mandalorian Myth – Ruling Council of Fallen Kings)

[iii] Native Mandalorian fruit with a velvety aroma and one of many varied fruits that were used to distill tihaar

[iv] Child of the Jedi – basically Padawan

[v] Today is a good day for some else to die

[vi] Huh? What? Expression of bewilderment and confusion

[vii] Soldier

[viii] Excellent

[ix] Kiffar markings indicating Clan (passed Matrilineally)

[x] helmet

[xi] Jedi, plural

[xii] Spouse

[xiii] Blade, knife

#rinrinp42 answers #My writing #time traveling husbands au #jangoobi #pre jangoobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi

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nanasarea · 5 years ago

Text

Sucker I xix

Prompt: Y/N attends a school for the supernatural, specifically: werewolves, witches and vampires. The school might be magic, but so is love, right? Right?

Genre: angst, fluff, slight smut

Pairing: reader x 00 line

Inspired heavily by: Legacies (and The Vampire Diaries&The Originals)

a/n:

main m.list / sucker m.list / i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi xii xiii xiv xv xvi xvii xviii xix

(go to m.list for last parts)

“not to alarm anyone, but Haechan and y/n have been missing for quite some time now and we have made absolutely no progress in finding them, not to mention my dad isn’t even panicking, since, quote “y/n has a reputation of going missing with the witch boys, they’ll show up eventually”. Like, what’s that about?” Jisoo asked.

“She’s right. We’re the super squad, aren’t we?” Mark said, standing up from his seat.

“What can we do? Do a locator spell? We’ve tried that and it doesn’t work, it’s like there’s some stronger magic that doesn’t let us.” Jeno reminded.

“Dark magic.” Renjun corrected “It’s the only way, we won’t be able to block black magic unless we use it.” He added.

“No. We don’t allow dark magic. It gets inside your heart and it poisons your mind.” Jaemin said.

“You’d be playing fire with fire, and someone is gonna get burned if we do that.” He added.

“He has a point.” Chenle agreed.

“Guys, what if Richard kidnapped them? What if he thinks Haechan is the soulmate from the prophesy so he can’t save the day when Richard brings y/n for the killing spree?” Renjun asked.

“Haechan? That can’t be. If anyone is her soulmate, it’s Jae-”

“Think about it. Why else would Haechan be missing?” Chenle cut Mark off and looked at Jaemin.

“I’m sorry, but it’s the only logical explanation.” Renjun said, placing a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder.

“I’ve come to peace with it. If I’m not her soulmate, I’m just happy whoever is can stop this. I know I’m suppose to hate you and your kind, but I want all of you with me, for as long as possible.” Jaemin said, looking at Jeno and Jisung.

“Jaemin, we love you too. Besides, who’s to say Richard got it right? What if Haechan isn’t missing because of that? There’s still a chance that you’re her soulmate, a chance that any of us are.” Jeno reassured.

“And there’s a chance that none of us are, but that’s okay. If she isn’t your romantic soulmate, you bet I’m your platonic soulmate, so I’ll try my best to make sure you��re happy.” Jeno added.

“We are the super squad, we'll come up with something.” Jaemin said, smiling at Jeno.

And with that, the front door flew across all of their heads, causing them to turn their attention to the two people who caused it.

“Well, every super squad needs a super villian.” Haechan smirked.

There you two were, dressed in all black, the dark aura around you being hard to miss, smirking, hand in hand.

“Chenle, get Mr. Hwang and Jisung, go with him!” Mark yelled as Renjun tried to put a barrier spell in front of you two, but were quickly stopped by Haechan’s magic, which sent him flying across the room.

“Oh, please. I have a fully activated tribrid by my side, what chance do you really have?” Haechan asked as you chuckled, seeing everyone so scared.

“Y/N, you’re better than this!” Jaemin said, making both you and Haechan laugh.

“Oh please, sit down, blood sucker.” You said as you spelled him to the chair he was standing in front of.

“Kitten, you know the plan, I’ll go search for the rest.” Haechan said as he made his way to the hallway.

The plan was to get all the werewolves in one place, as Richard said and to eliminate them one by one while you stopped the so called “super squad”.

“So, here we are: the brother who loved me too much.” you said, looking at Jaemin, but then focusing your attention on Jeno “ and the only who didn't love me enough.”

“Enough?!” Jeno practically yelled, walking towards you.

“You don’t know what it’s like being in love with you.” he added.

“I don’t?” You asked “Do enlighten me then.” You added.

“You know, when you and I were together, every single atom in my body told me that it was the right thing, that we were a perfect fit.” he said, the tears already forming in his eyes and for a split second, he could have sworn he saw a little bit of hope in your eyes, but it could have just been wishful thinking or his tears blurring his vision.

“And that kind of love, it can change your whole life, so don’t tell me I didn’t love you enough. I gave you everything and you know it! Sure, I was the one who broke up with you, but I regret it every single day.” He added and at this point, he was practically fighting his tears more than anything.

“Oh, so sad, so tragic. Really wish I cared.” You laughed as Mark grabbed him by his shoulders to pull him away, knowing he won’t be able to walk away by himself.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be-” “Wait.” Renjun said.

“If you’re going to go and do what Richard says, go ahead. If you’re going to go and do what Haechan says, be my guest, but what do you think will happen to you? You’re part werewolf, do you think Richard will just let you go like that? And Haechan, he’s blinded by dark magic, he’s not genuine. I saw the way you looked at each other and despite your humanity being turned off and him being intoxicated by dark magic, I could tell there was something there. Sure, he’s hot, but you shouldn’t pick him because of that. You heard the prophesy, do you really want to be responsible for so many more deaths?” Renjun asked.

“My humanity is off, no guilt, remember?” You asked, smirking.

“Listen, y/n, this isn’t you. You have a chance to save a thousand lives here, don’t you think that would make up for one accidental death?” Jaemin asked.

“I might not be your soulmate, the knight in shining armor that saves the day, but I will say this. Everything I like about me, is you. You made me a better person, you made me believe in love again. I want to do the same for you, even if it’s not romantic love, because we met and we talked and it was epic, but then the sun came up and reality set in. I love you, more than you will ever know. I will always cherish our moments together, even if I’m not the one for you. And it's because I love you that I can't be selfish with you, so I need you to realize, there is someone out there that can not only save you, but help you save all of us.” He added, holding onto your hand.

“The school might be magic, but so is love, right? And anybody capable of love, is capable of being saved. True love will triumph in the end - which may or may not be a lie, but if it is a lie, then it's the most beautiful lie we have right now, so please, let true love save the day, and all of us, because without the werewolves, we’re all losing someone or something.” He added, trying to hold back the tears as he looked over at Jeno.

Maybe the tear that fell on the back of his hand was his, maybe he was just so emotional that he didn’t even realize he was crying...or maybe it was yours. Maybe the tear was yours, but he doubted it.

How can the tear be yours? No humanity, no feelings. Tears would indicate feelings, so it must have been his, right?

“Enough of the lovey dovey shit.” You all heard a voice say from the hallway.

“It’s time. I’ve gathered all the werewolves besides Jeno and Jisoo so I advise you to make your way to the gym, young lady.” Mr. Hwang said.

“Dad, you do-” “Minsoo, I told you I’ll spare Jisoo, now please, what more do you want?” Mr. Hwang said as the 3 people standing behind him stepped into the light.

On his left, Haechan, on his right, the girl you had killed to activate your blood curse, and behind him? Minsoo, on the verge of tears.

“Mr Hwang?” Hana asked.

“I prefer Richard.” He answered, smiling.

a/n: how many of you are shocked? one person? two? none? all? Norenmin be trying hard to flip the switch and all, but do you think any of them are endgame? I’m still deciding as I type this so the next/final chapter is a mystery to us all tbh, so tell me who you think is endgame and why, if you convince me that chenle is endgame, hell, i’ll even make chenle endgame. Here’s a link to where you can vote if you don’t feel like dropping an ask 👀

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bodytoflame-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

born for this // two

a series of moments in the life of one lyra jackson-chase

read from the beginning // AO3 Link

v //

“She’s crying again, Percy.” Annabeth yawns, refusing to open her eyes. No one told her she’d still be waking up in the middle of the night with a one year old.

He kisses her forehead, and rolls off the bed. “I got it.”

She thinks about how lucky she is — to have him; to have this beautiful part of both of them. The thoughts calm her — she’s almost back to sleep when she hears a thud, jolting upright and alert immediately. “What is it?”

“Sorry,” Percy rushes to her side, “I just stubbed my toe.”

“No monsters?”

“No monsters, Annabeth.” At least not tonight. “Everything’s okay.”

And it is, for a little while.

vi //

They do come. Once, twice; as she gets older, they lose count. Sometimes they’re real, sometimes they’re not.

“Daddy.” Percy can barely see Lyra rubbing her eyes in the shadow of the doorframe, tottering over to his side of the bed, only illuminated by the moonlight and light pollution.

He whispers, trying not to wake Annabeth (as he knows it’s hard enough for her to get to sleep once), “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Monsters.”

It’s silent, save for the ever-present hum of the city that his ears have learned to regard as background noise. There’s no monsters tonight.

“C’mere.” He scoops her up, tucking her in tight under the covers in the middle of their bed. “You just had a bad dream.”

vii //

Tonight, it’s gorgons. It’s nothing they haven’t dealt with before, and it won’t be the last time, but after he’s stowed Riptide back in his pocket, Percy feels an intense wave of exhaustion roll over him. It feels like he’s just going through the motions, fight after fight; living each day wondering if they’ll get any sleep.

“Annabeth.” Percy’s hand ghosts over her shoulder blade, seeing the rapidly forming bruise peeking out of her tank top. She winces. “Sorry.”

She turns to face him, taking his hand, “It’s okay. I love you.” It’s going to hurt, and she knows that — but it’s better than the pain she would feel seeing her daughter get hurt. She could get a paper cut, or a splinter, or some other normal kid injury, and Annabeth would have to hold back tears just to bandage her up. This pain is as familiar as her own skin, and she knows how to deal with it. So she will.

Percy squeezes her hand softly, and kisses her cheek. “I love you.” Just saying it brings a sense of peace to his tired body.

“I’m gonna go make sure she’s okay.” If they’re lucky, she’s fallen back asleep. If not...

Lyra runs straight to her, towing a blanket draped over her head, and clings to Annabeth’s leg, crying. She must’ve had a real scare.

“It’s okay. It’s gone.” Annabeth scoops her up, and holds her close, fingers threaded through soft brown curls. “You’re safe now.”

Lyra’s sniffles grow quieter; more infrequent as she calms in her mother’s arms. “Gone?”

“All gone, baby. I promise.” She lays her down into her bed, tucking her tightly into a sea of blankets.

Annabeth sings her to sleep, and as Percy stands in the doorway, still brushing dirt off his clothes, he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

She gets up, smiling when she notices him, and the awed look on his face, “What?”

“I never knew you could sing like that. Thirteen years and I never knew how beautiful your voice is.”

Annabeth has no idea how to respond. All she knows for sure is how eternally grateful she is for him, and the life they’ve built together; and they’re safe, and alive, and happy, most of the time, and that’s all that matters. So she wraps her arms around him, strong and tight, and tries to hold back the tears that threaten to come. They both cry for everything they still don’t know.

viii //

“I hope you realize, this is extremely unprecedented.”

“You’re telling me we’re the only demigod couples to ever have kids?” Piper raises an eyebrow.

“Not the only, but one of the few.” Chiron pauses, leaving it to them to come to a conclusion as to why. It’s not something they want to dwell on. “And certainly not any of such… heritage.” He glances toward Percy and Jason. “When you all were born you received half of each parent’s DNA — in your case, half god, half mortal. The same principles apply to your children. With the way we’ve seen their powers develop already, at such young ages, I believe Calliope and Lyra may have a greater percentage of godly blood. I can’t say with any certainty just how much or from who — I’m sure we’ll see their powers grow with time — but I fear this is going to put them in danger. There’s a prophecy—”

“No,” Percy says, firm, “I don’t want to hear about another fucking prophecy.”

Annabeth smooths her hand against his back. “Percy…”

“I won’t let her grow up the same way we did.” His voice cracks as he finishes his sentence, trying to hide how upset the idea makes him.

She holds him closer. “I know.”

Chiron continues, “I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you. It’s incredibly vague, as these things tend to be. A warning of descendants of powerful gods from two sides.”

“You thought it was us,” Jason says, “Percy and me. That’s why you wanted to see us.”

“Correct. It seems, though…”

“They shouldn’t see each other.” Annabeth juts in, quiet. “Lyra can already spill her sippy cups when she’s upset, and Piper’s seen Callie make people’s hair stand on end. That’s not a good combination.”

Piper looks like she’s about to speak up, but Jason takes her hand. “She’s probably right. It’s too dangerous.” She knows it is. It doesn’t make it any harder. When she found out Annabeth was pregnant all she could think about was how wonderful it would be to watch them grow up alongside each other.

“I want to hear it,” Piper says, loud and clear, demanding. “The prophecy.”

ix //

“Fuck,” Percy swears, wincing.

“Stay still.” She threads the needle between the edges of the laceration with a steady hand. It’s like her brain completely shuts off, its only directive to stitch him back together. “You wouldn’t be sitting here if you’d listened when I said to double back.” She know she sounds bitter, but her words are so disconnected from her thoughts, they feel foreign in her mouth.

“I thought I had enough time.”

“Percy,” she warns, “Don’t scare me like that. When you get overconfident you get reckless. You know that.” I know. I do too.

“I know, but— ow —if we get sloppy that’s just putting her in danger.”

Annabeth pauses, tying the last stitch off without another word. The silence doesn’t last long. “Maybe we should tell her.” It all feels selfish, like she's a bad mom just for thinking it. They’re her parents — it’s their job to protect her, not the other way around. But it’s painful to keep fighting, after so many years. “I wouldn’t have to worry about losing you like this. We could take her somewhere safe.”

“Annabeth… She’s 6. I don’t want her to have to carry that weight until it’s absolutely necessary.” This little girl is everything to him. He sees so much of himself in her, and every second they have to talk about the prophecy, it hurts him.

Annabeth stays silent; he’s right, even if she doesn’t want to say it out loud. And she hurts, too. So she nods — she never wanted to lie to her, ever. But this is too much to put on the shoulders of a child. One just as little as she was. She wishes someone would’ve considered that when she was young.

x //

“Are you two coming up for lunch anytime soon?” Annabeth rolls her eyes, standing at the edge of the lake. “It’s been half an hour.”

Percy surfaces, Lyra right behind him, giggling profusely.

“Did Daddy say something funny?” She raises an eyebrow, glaring at Percy.

“Daddy talks to the fish.” It sounds more like fith. She smiles wide, a toothy grin showing off her missing front teeth.

“Great,” she stares right into his soul, trying not to let on the slight bit of amusement it brings her, “She thinks you’re crazy.”

A tenet of her limited attention span, Lyra starts playing with her powers, splashing about, seemingly not paying any attention to their conversation.

He protests, “She just figured out the bubble thing, I had to show her something new!”

“And does she understand them, Percy?”

His face falls. “Uh. No. I see your point,” he laughs. It seemed she hadn’t inherited that particular power from him. “She’s pretty amused by this, though.”

Tens of tiny blobs of water circle her, weaving around Percy, up into the air, and back into the lake.

“It took you a long time to be able to do stuff that precise,” Annabeth notes, wading into the water up to her ankles and handing him a sandwich from her bag.

“Yeah. It did.”

xi //

“How come you never told me about this?”

“Because it’s scary.”

“I can handle scary.”

Annabeth sighs, “I heard the Great Prophecy for the first time when I was your age.” It kept her awake with nightmares far too often, knowing she’d eventually be a part of it — which is why she’s so reluctant to tell these things to Lyra, despite knowing how important it is that she knows. “I spent two years waiting for a sign until I finally got one. He was annoying, and dense, and the son of my mother’s biggest rival. And then he was my friend — my best friend. Someone who was loyal to me no matter what. I wouldn’t change that for the world.” Not when it’s brought her here. “But we had to make a lot of hard decisions. And I—” She shakes her head. “I know you don’t completely understand.” Annabeth never intended her to. “I need you to know that it’s not always going to be easy.”

xii //

“I’m 11 now,” Lyra states, with an air of unparalleled confidence, “I can keep secrets.”

“Hey,” Percy says, patting her back, “We trust you. It’s just a big change.”

She crosses her arms. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“That also means you can’t use your powers,” Annabeth says, handing Lyra her lunchbox.

“I know.” You told me. Many times.

Annabeth kisses her cheek, pretending she doesn’t see her dramatically wipe her face off with the back of her hand mere seconds later. “Okay. I love you. Tell me all about it later.”

Percy walks her out the door, and down to the subway stop. They stand, and wait. “So, middle school. Kind of a big deal?” He sure thought so.

“I guess,” she shrugs. “I’m excited to make friends.” It’s the one thing that sucked about being homeschooled. She knows, as they’ve told her so many times, it was for her protection, because she never was able to completely control her powers as a kid. But the only kids she’s ever really known otherwise are other demigods; and what fleeting interactions she had with them while visiting Camp. And they weren’t like her, not really.

Percy reaches out his arms as the car doors open, beckoning her for a hug. She wraps her arms as far as they’ll reach around him, as tight as she can. So he holds her close against his chest for as long as he knows the doors will remain open, “You got this.”

xiii //

“Keep your feet apart. Knees bent.” Annabeth instructs her, feet firmly planted in the grass, beckoning for Lyra to follow.

Lyra clutches the sword, an iron-clad grip Annabeth recognizes from when she was this age — still too young to fully understand the weight of what she was doing, but old enough to feel the fear that came with the inherent danger of every battle she fought. “Loosen your grip.” Lyra follows, feeling the handle bounce with her new stance. “There you go.”

“Now remember, be ready to move. Stay on the balls of your feet.” That got her last time. And it had plagued Annabeth many times — feeling frozen, for even with a plan, there were so many unpredictable variables within combat.

Lyra nods, and takes a tentative swing, blocked by Annabeth. She staggers back, preparing a counterattack. Her blade catches against Lyra’s before she even gets close. “Good. Nice block,” Annabeth says, directing Lyra’s sword away with her sheer strength. “Now try for a hit.”

“You’re too quick.” Lyra breathes heavily, clearly intensely focused and growing weary. She blocks again, against her advice.

“No, you’re doing great. Keep going.” Annabeth encourages her, gearing up to test her reflexes. “Find an opening.”

She almost takes Annabeth by surprise; going on the offensive with such short notice. Her swing aims low, and Annabeth has to think quick, readjusting her stance to block the incoming blow. “You’re getting really good at this.”

Lyra sighs, her sword swinging at her side. “Thanks.”

xiv //

“Zeph! Lemme in!” Lyra’s voice sounds over the intercom, and he buzzes her up.

“Why is it always my place?” Zephyr asks, opening the door right as she’s about to knock.

“Our apartment is tiny,” Lyra shrugs, squeezing past him in the doorway. And we have a truly impressive stash of weaponry in the coat closet which I’d rather not have to explain.

“So. Graduation’s only a few weeks away.” he says. “Are you excited? For high school?”

“I don’t know. I guess.” It doesn’t seem like that big of a change. Same kinds of classrooms, cinderblock hallways; the usual cliques and groups. The same tendencies of teachers to constantly breathe down her neck about assignments and paying attention, despite her accommodations. She sinks into the couch, feeling the relief of taking her backpack off.

“That doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.”

“I just hate the drama. Did you see what they did to Jenna Thompson the other day?”

“Jenna hates you, Ly,” he laughs.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to get gum stuck in her hair,” Lyra mumbles, hugging her knees into a ball. Sure, she’s a menace and has never said a single nice word to Lyra, but she doesn’t wish ill on her for it. Everyone’s got their own shit, bullies included, and she’s trying her best to ignore it. Plus, she already got what she deserved.

“She called you—”

Her head snaps up to stare at him. “I know what she called me, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“Sorry. I just… I don’t understand how you can…” he sighs, “It just makes me so angry I—”

“Let’s just. Talk about something else.” She takes a deep breath, shifting the topic. “How’d you do on your finals?”

“Pretty good. Got straight B’s. Bombed the English essay though. And you know I killed that science project. So yeah, average all around.”

“As if you would ever get anything less than an A+. How’s the tomato plants?” He’s always liked gardening. Especially to bring a cold, industrial apartment to life. And of course it’d earn him an A — he knew how to take care of them, even in such a cramped space.

“Just picked ‘em yesterday. You ever had homemade ketchup?”

Her eyes widen. “No. You better have some left!”

“Of course I do. Meanwhile, I’m guessing you aced everything—”

“Except math,” they say, at the same time, bursting into laughter.

“Yeah. You know me.”

“Sure do.” He grabs a plate from the kitchen, setting it down on the coffee table. “All homegrown. I present to you, gourmet french fries and ketchup.”

She tastes it. “That’s… amazing.”

“You know you only like me for the food.”

“You’re gonna be on some Top Chef shit, or something,” she chuckles, imagining it. “And not true!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna miss me this summer. But especially the food.”

“I wish you didn’t have to visit your mom all summer.”

Zeph sighs. “I know. But it’ll be over before you know it.”

xv //

“I can’t do this, Percy. I can’t keep pretending this is okay. It’s getting worse. They’re getting stronger. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Annabeth,” he sighs, and she can hear the sheer exhaustion in his voice. “We have to.”

“And what happens if we get seriously hurt?” I can’t lose you. Her body aches, scrapes and bruises staining a fair amount of her skin, even with the ambrosia. She feels defeated, and battered. And there’s only so much she can hide with long sleeves and pants. It’s been a week of fending off monsters everywhere she goes, sometimes without their help; it hurts them to see the marks on her body from fighting.

“Better us than her.”

She doesn’t disagree, but it’s more than that. She can’t lose us. “Percy, look at me.” He does. “You know what we have to do.”

He sighs, staring out the window to study the city skyline. “I just thought we had more time.”

“It’s longer than either of us had,” Annabeth reminds him.

Percy lets the concept of two more years sink in, and it hits him hard. Two more years of normalcy. Of not fighting for his life. “Okay. But... let her have her birthday.” It’s the least he can do when there’s so much anxiety centered around his own. She deserves a day for herself.

“Okay.” Annabeth echoes, quieter. “Come here?” He slides into bed and wraps his arms tightly around her; stubble pricking at her neck as he curls up closer. She fits so perfectly into his embrace, like the curves of her body were made to fit against him. Like he was made to hold her.

“She’ll be alright.” She has to be.

Part Three

#fic #percabeth #annabeth chase #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fic #made #born for this

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Two

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Hey everybody!!! It’s been a hot minute. We’ve been busy lately between work and life and all that fun stuff but here’s a new chapter <3

A/N: So we’re changing a lil bit up, and adding more characters, specifically the gods as we’ve been doing more world building lately. These Gods are also from my own WIP, but have also found their way here!

“I just don’t understand why you need specific wood from a specific place for the crib,” Lev muttered, splashing the water with his foot as he watched Nik paddle around. Nik still wore a large shirt even in the pool, as if Lev and Cameron didn’t know he was pregnant.

"Well, Lev," Nik said. "Not all of us are okay with using hand-me-downs from four hundred years ago. Some of us like new shiny things for new shiny parasites- I say with love- and besides, its native to Tullum. It's home; at least as close to home as I'll likely get."

Lev huffed. “I didn’t mean that you had to get hand-me-downs, if you don’t want to. But I figured asking for wood specific to a region of angel territory when neither of us can go to retrieve it... It’s just a big fuss to make, I guess.” He braced his hands on the side of the pool, leaning forward a bit. “I don’t- Cameron had lots of very pretty options, is all, I guess.”

Nik arched a brow, eyeing him dryly. "And where, exactly, do you think some of those woods come from, Levant?"

Lev hesitated. “I assumed demonic territory?” he finally said, very unsure of the answer now.

Nik splashed Lev with enough force Lev was drenched, spluttering. Before he could think of how to respond, Cameron popped Lev gently on the back of his head. Lev hadn’t even noticed Cameron approach.

As Lev looked up, Cameron simply said, “Come inside. Biela requires your presence. Both of you.”

Lev stood, looking back to Nik, who was hauling himself out of the pool. Since Nik had already soaked him, Lev tucked himself against Nik’s side as they went inside.

Biela was standing in the kitchen. Without looking at them, she simply said, “Take a seat.”

Lev peeled away and settled in a chair, but Nik folded his arms over his stomach, which was beginning to show by that point, and said, "And why should-"

Cameron sliced Nik a look. "Nikolas, sit the fuck down."

At those cold words, Nik promptly sat on the nearest stool without another word.

Lev reached for Nik’s hand. Something told him he would not like whatever Biela had to say. Nik’s fingers tightened around his briefly as they waited for Biela to speak.

Biela fixed her dark gaze on Nik first. “I’m assuming you are keeping the fetus.”

It wasn’t a brief squeeze this time. “Why?” Nik asked sharply.

“Nik,” Lev said softly.

Biela held up a hand in Lev’s direction. “Because I'm also assuming you'd want to know the magic used to bring your boyfriend back from the dead poisoned my lands and is killing countless children. That's why."

Cold washed over Lev, colder than the death that he knew still tugged at his bones. “What?” he blurted, barely a whisper.

"You," Biela said, squarely looking Lev in the eye, "And your cousin and that witch played with forces beyond your control and decided to poison my lands with your greed because you just couldn't leave death well enough alone. I figured since your mate is currently pregnant, that you might want to know what is happening to the infants being born. Much like Nik's infant soon enough."

Lev risked swinging his attention to Cameron, eyes wide. He knew he was digging his nails into Nik’s hand as he searched Cameron’s expression, but for the most part it was unreadable, the usual shrouded calculation flickering in his eyes. Lev looked back to Biela after a moment.

“I didn’t know,” he finally said, voice small.

“Clearly not. You seem to know nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said, finally shifting his attention to Nik. “I’m sorry.”

The blood had drained from Nik’s face. “You’re lying,” he said, the words a harsh counterpoint to Lev’s whispered apology.

"And why would I lie about such a thing?"

"Because you despise me, and you loathe Lev and want any excuse to put Lev back in the ground."

Biela’s mouth curled in a non-smile. "If I was going to put your precious Lev back where he belonged, I'd do so without needing such a cruel lie. I'd just do it."

Lev tugged on Nik’s hand. “Nik,” he said, a warning in his tone this time. “She’s right.”

Tears of anger welled in Nik's eyes. "This is bullshit. This is absolute bullshit. I just decided to keep the thing. Now you're telling me it'll die anyways?"

Greif coiled alongside the fear and guilt. “You didn’t have to tell us,” Lev said to Biela. “Thank you,” he added, before tugging at Nik again. “We’ll figure it out, Nik. You- you could stay with Nate, couldn’t you?”

Nik's mouth pressed into a thin line. "But this is my home," he said, voice breaking.

Steadily, Biela said, "Not every child has been born dead or scarred. Perhaps your blood will… protect it in some way. Healing it."

Lev pressed his face to Nik’s shoulder. “You should talk to Ash. Or Sazra. Both of them.”

Nik stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, as if it wasn’t midafternoon. Lev watched him go in silence, his heart aching.

Only once he was gone did Lev look back to Biela. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Is there anything I can do?” He meant it, knew she’d read that in his mind, and hoped it meant... something. Though he doubted it did.

Biela leaned against her palms, black hair slipping over her shoulder. "What do you think you can do? You and your cousin offer your pretty apologies while countless are dead like a few well placed 'sorries' will give parents their young once more. I highly doubt putting you back where you belong would solve it, and as I promised your cousin, I wouldn't. You will live with your actions and you will think about how this has affected my kingdom. And you will think about how my mercy has been the only thing keeping you with a home. Not even your own people want you. And now, you're a mass murderer to my people. That is what you can do."

Her words hurt, as they were meant to, he was sure, but he heard no untruth. “I would never assume that an apology would fix anything,” he promised carefully. “I will never forget the cost; I promise. But-” He hesitated. “I know most demons don’t appreciate an angels healing. I have the magic to spare, if it is ever useful. I understand that- it’s not- it’s all I can offer.”

Biela arched a brow. "I'll keep it in mind. If there's something to make you useful, I'll look into it. It's the least you can do."

“It is,” Lev agreed, grief leaking into his tone despite himself. “Thank you,” he added again, before lowering his gaze to the ground. Any more, he thought, and he might say too much.

"And you're not even crying," Biela noted. "An improvement." She straightened, readying to leave. "I'll return for our check up. I expect you to behave in the meantime."

On her way out, Cameron dipped his head in a reverent bow.

Lev waited until her footsteps faded before he looked to Cameron. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

All Cameron said was, "Survive."

-----

After nearly a week of Amara seemingly dodging every appointment Ash tried setting up with her, Ash decidedly went to see Nik so he didn't hunt her down and wring her neck. It seemed like the better alternative.

It was Lev who answered the door. Hesitantly, Lev asked, "Am I allowed to talk to you?"

"Well," Ash said, looking over Lev’s head, "if you weren't, you'd be a little too late now. Where's Nik?"

Lev flushed, cheeks going a blotchy gold. “In bed,” he said, sounding sad. “I’m assuming you heard, then.”

Ash blinked. "Heard what? I just needed to check on him. Did something happen to Nik?" He asked, shouldering his way past Lev. "Is he alright?"

“Oh.” Lev seemed to hesitate. “Fine. Nik is. I think. I mean, he is, but-” His voice got smaller and smaller. “Whatever Cyrus did to bring me back- the magic- infants are dying. Not making it to birth. Biela told us a few days ago. I assumed that’s why you were here. I thought Nik had taken my advice.”

At that Ash halted in place and whirled on him, face leeched white with horror and rage. "Wanna run that by me again?"

Lev flinched away. “The magic poisoned the lands,” he whispered. “The children are dying because I came back."

"I-." Ash inhaled sharply. "I told you. I told every single one of you not to do it. I hope you're fucking happy with yourself," he snapped, jabbing him in the chest. "None of you selfish assholes would listen to me and children are dead for it." Ash whirled back around and stormed his way to Nik's bedroom. "And now I need to make sure another one doesn't die because of everyone's bad choices."

Nik jolted up when Ash burned the door in place to stalk inside. He didn't give Nik a moment to speak before he started doing what he did best. "Have you been keeping everything down? Any fevers or anything beyond the usual normal pregnancy stuff?"

Nik blinked blankly at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know? Because I'm an omega? I-"

"My mistake," Ash said. "I shouldn't have asked you. Lev, has everything been normal with Niks pregnancy so far?"

Lev hovered in the charred doorway. “Other than morning sickness that Cameron and I have been keeping an eye on, everything seems fine. I didn’t think to ask Biela how the- what was happening to the parents. I was- it was a shock.”

"Oh I'm sure," he said, shortly. He turned his full focus back on Nik. "Is there any way I can convince you to come home at least until the baby is born?" When Nik shook his head, Ash sighed. "Right. Well, at least meet me for appointments every few days in Liwen. That way you get exposure outside of Demonic Lands as well as getting a better look in my office?"

Nik sat up on his elbow and watched him warily. “Papi doesn’t want me coming home, Ash.”

Ash rolled his eyes and eyed the bruising still fading from Nik’s neck. “Hm. Well. I don’t think your father is going to get to say much of anything when I hold just as much, if not more power and sway than he does. Besides, you’re not stepping foot anywhere near him, especially when you’re pregnant. I’m sure Nate would have my head. Or at the very least try.”

Nik didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I don’t want to go home.”

Ash sighed loudly. “Alright, fine then.” When Lev tried scooting his way past to Nik, Ash shoved his face away. “Move it, I’m dealing with my patient, Lev.” When Lev huffed Ash looked pointedly at him. “If that’s too much to ask,” he suggested, “then perhaps you can see yourself outside while we talk.”

Lev’s only response was making a face. “I think I’m going to go see what Cameron’s making for dinner.”

When Lev left, Ash turned his sole focus back to Nik who was still looking rather tired. “You gotta let me help,” he said. “We both know I’m the best you’re going to get when it comes to your health.”

“Dunno. Sazra seems to know plenty.”

“Sazra hasn’t seen the light of day in well over a thousand years. That,” he said, “and from what you’ve told me, Sazra also wants to string you up by your balls. Your physiology is different from demons and as great as a healer I’m sure she is, I am your healer and I’m not trusting a demon to take care of you when I’ve known you for the last nineteen years.”

Nik waved him off. “Figure it out, Ash. I don’t want to leave.”

“Because of Lev?” Ash asked, pointedly.

“And if it is?” Nik shot back.

“Then you’re making stupid choices for your baby.”

Nik almost looked like Ash hit him. Ash tried to reel back from that very poor choice of words, but even if he was successful at it, he still didn’t regret them. It was the truth especially when there were millions of infants dead because Ash didn’t stop Amara or Cyrus and now Nik was in the line of fire for his own inactions. “Look,” Ash warned, “if you won’t come back then I’m moving in here and I will make everyone who lives in this house as miserable as physically possible.”

“Like Cameron would let you.“

Ash scoffed. “You think I’m afraid of Wonder Bread Cameron? I get what I want and what I currently want won’t come back with me.”

Nik’s brows shot up at that, but before he could say anything Lev came slinking his way back into the room. “Mami’s actually in charge of dinner tonight so Cameron’s in his office. He looks kinda grumpy.”

“Surprise of surprises, I’m sure,” Ash said. He looked back to Nik. “So what is it, you coming with me voluntarily or am I moving in here against all of your wills?” When Nik stared at him in stony silence, Ash took that as answer enough. He got up from the bed and shouldered his way past Lev.

----

Ash was still being cranky, and Nik was still in bed. Lev wasn’t stupid enough enough to bother Cameron again, and so when he heard Eden waking up from her afternoon nap he decided to go pick her up before she upset the whole house with her fussing.

Even if he was supposed to be limiting how much he picked her up.

After some well placed smacks for not getting to her soon enough, Eden buried her face in his shoulder with a half-awake growl. Lev gave her a little bounce and settled in the rocking chair, toy in hand to offer her when she bothered to lift her head.

Only when several minutes had passed did Eden finish her little sniffle-growls and take the stuffed bear. Within seconds the ear was detached.

Lev sighed as he fished it out of her mouth. Eden took the chance to sink her little teeth into his finger, hard enough to draw blood. Before Lev could pull away, Eden gave a pleased shriek, little nails digging into his hand to keep him there. Despite the surprising amount of strength the toddler had, he managed to get free, in time for Ash to stick his head in the room, eyes glowing enough of a bright green that Lev was quite sure Ash was seeing just fine.

“I just can't seem to leave you alone for five minutes without you nearly getting killed by demons,” Ash grumbled.

Lev shrugged, catching Eden’s little hand before she could smack him again. “Hitting isn’t nice, bitty girl.”

She simply screeched in his face, and then thunked her forehead on his shoulder, giggling.

Lev looked up at Ash. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said as Eden took her bear back and began the gruesome work of beheading it. “Well, I mean- I wasn’t sure how to because I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to talk, and then you needed to check on Nik, and-” He paused, blinking hard. “Rambling. Sorry. I’m trying to work on that. I remembered things, about when I was dead.” He pressed a kiss to Eden’s head to buy himself some time to order his thoughts, and then went on. “I met Nature. During that time I was hesitating. And they talked to me.”

“Oh? And you didn’t bother to tell me this sooner?”

Lev winced. From what he’d gathered from the conversation with Nature, the link between Ash and the god ran deeper than Lev had ever realized. Not that Lev had ever really paid attention to it. He’d never been particularly close to Nature himself; he was starting to regret not trying to forge a connection with the only god the angels had. Maybe his magic would have been easier to access, stronger even, if he had.

“I didn’t remember for a long time,” he finally said to Ash. “But I do now, so I’m telling you.”

It’d been an intense conversation, for sure. He could see a lot of Ash in Nature. Or maybe there was a lot of Nature in Ash. Lev wasn’t too sure how the mechanics of it worked. Nature had all but berated him for dragging his feet. Just from past experience they knew if the spell failed it’d have unimaginable consequences, and Lev now knew just how bad it could have been.

“I promised them I would be the last resurrection,” he told Ash. “And I said if that failed, that I’d help take some of the- the punishment you suffered. It’s not fair for you to be in that much pain on your own.”

“Ya think?” Ash snipped.

Lev took a small breath, and then replied calmly, “I really am sorry, Ash. It was the least I could do, I thought.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Tell me everything you talked about.”

“A lot of it was... kind of scolding. About trying to come back,” Lev admitted. “And telling me there were going to be consequences either way. They laid out exactly what you went through while not stopping us.” Lev cleared his throat. “I- that's when I offered. To help shoulder the pain.” After tucking his cheek against Edens hair, he held up a hand, weaving his shadows through his fingers with ease. “I think that might be why my magic is stronger. I was going to try to- to find more ways to connect with them, but I’ll have to wait until I can go back to angelic territory now, I think.”

“Why? There’s temples here.”

“Oh. I didn’t-” He stopped, frowned. “I don’t know much about demons and the gods-” He sighed this time. “I’m still on house arrest. I’m not allowed to leave until Biela deems me not a security risk.”

Ash lifted a brow. “Aren’t you in a relationship with a demon?”

“We’ve never had a conversation about religion, Ash,” Lev said with an even deeper frown. “I don’t think Cameron’s particularly religious. I guess I could ask him about the demonic gods. All I know is that they’re where demons get their magic, like we do from Nature.”

“They have a name, you know,” Ash said. Lev couldn’t figure out if he sounded irritated or tired. “It’s Asmi.”

Lev flushed. “I- I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He cleared his throat, and said more firmly, “No one really calls them by their name, but I should- I should have asked.”

“Probably,” Ash said drily. “And technically they’re not even the god of nature.”

Lev stood up, bouncing Eden on his hip. “They aren’t?” He asked. “That’s what we were taught in primary school, I’m sorry.”

“Primary school?” Ash said. If Lev didn’t know better, he was teasing him now. Crankily, sure, but still.

Rather than dignify that with an answer, Lev gave up and let a very wiggly Eden down to crawl around the nursery.

“Asmi is the god of balance,” Ash finally said. “They’re tied to the earth. Anything falls out of balance, and we’re all affected. That’s probably where the angels got nature from.”

“Makes sense why the teachers simplified it like that, I suppose,” Lev replied. “If it’s- if it’s not too much trouble, could you teach me more, whenever you get the chance?”

“Sure. Looks like I’m rooming with you for the foreseeable future anyway.”

“Thank you,” Lev said, smiling at Ash. He didn’t get one in return, but considering the amount of pain Ash had gone through in the past several months because of Lev, he didn’t blame Ash. Not one bit.

~~~

There was only so much of Nik’s day being spent in bed Lev could stand before he felt restless himself. Even taking care of Eden couldn’t shake his inherent need to be a busy body. So when it occurred to him that Nik had not yet actually celebrated his pregnancy, he decided it was high time something good be associated with Nik’s pregnancy.

After all, it was tradition.

Lev waited until Eden was down for her nap to corner Cameron and Ash in the kitchen. “I think Nik deserves a baby shower,” he said without preamble. “And I think we should throw him one.”

“Of course you do,” Cameron said, not even looking up from the meat he was searing in a skillet.

Lev looked expectantly at Ash, who just gave a shrug. “Might as well get him out of that foul mood of his.”

“He’s no reason to be happy about what’s going on,” Lev replied reasonably. When Ash narrowed his eyes at Lev, the lack of a glow to his green gaze letting Lev know he wasn’t actually able to see him right now, Lev was quick to add, “So I want to... give him some happier memories about this pregnancy. He’s so miserable right now and all he’s gotten is bad news. A party will cheer him up and maybe give him something to look forward to.”

“Are you suggesting he isn’t looking forward to the several horrendous hours of labor to push that fetus out?” Cameron asked, flicking a look Lev’s way.

Lev blinked. “Well. No, I doubt that. But. The after? Holding the baby? I don’t think he’s thought that far. He’s just stressed and worried.”

“That was sarcasm, Levant,” Ash pointed out.

“Oh.” Lev rubbed his nose. “Um. Well. I do think it’s a good idea.”

“Alright. Fine. I’m sure we can have something set up this weekend.”

“Thank you,” Lev said to Cameron, looking pleased. Up until he realized... “Who can we invite”?”

“Well, that is indeed the question, isn’t it?” Ash mused.

“Can Nate be invited?”

“I sure hope so, Nate practically raised him,” Ash said dryly.

Lev grimaced at him, knowing very well he couldn’t see it. “Yes, but- am I allowed to be there if he is?”

“I think it’ll be fine, especially if Bay is with him.”

After considering that, Lev gave a small nod. “Okay. Can I help plan for it, Cameron?”

“I suppose,” Cameron said.

Lev gave a small hum. “Ocean themed? To match the nursery?”

“Sure,” Cameron said, with the same amount of indifference as before.

This time Lev huffed at Cameron. “I’m going to go see if Mami wants to help,” he said, knowing it was a little petty.

“You do that,” Cameron said.

As Lev... well, even he could admit he was flouncing off a bit, Ash followed. Lev took that as a silent agreement to actually participate in the planning.

---

Darius found himself in Cyrus’ office with a mug of tea in front of him and Cyrus across from him with his own coffee. Even if Darius couldn’t drink the tea, he did appreciate the gesture. It would be nice to be able to drink tea once more.

“Why Cameron?” Cyrus asked, not in an accusatory way, but genuine curiosity.

“Why not Cameron?” Darius asked, splaying his brown fingers along the desk.

Cyrus gave a shrug as he continued to flip through his notes, coffee seemingly forgotten. “He’s not exactly the sort most people seem to be attached to. Outside yourself, Nikolas, and Levant, of course. Most others seem frightened more than anything.”

“I don’t see why,” Darius said. “Cameron’s never been frightening to me.”

“Perhaps it's the amount of people he’s tortured and killed,” Cyrus pointed out mildly. He looked up briefly. “I mean no offense, I simply want to understand.”

Darius thought on that, and he thought on the boy he had known when he was alive. And he thought on the hell that was unleashed upon Cameron once it was found that Darius had died at Cameron’s own hand. And then he said, “Perhaps. Though, I do not judge a person by their occupation. One could say Sorin has killed his own fair share of people, no?”

Cyrus looked over at Sorin, who was curled up as a cat on a pile of papers, orange tail twitching against his white flank as he dozed. “He did,” Cyrus agreed. “And he retired. But you made your point. I see where you’re coming from.” He looked back to Darius. “The war made a monster out of many people. But something tells me the war is not what happened to Cameron.”

“Just a different kind of war,” Darius sighed. He traced along one of his rings. “Have you come up with a solution that would not let Cameron die in the process?” Even if Darius was quite sure Cameron wouldn’t blink at the idea of giving his own life to right this particular wrong- even when the last five hundred years had Cameron’s story of survival written in betrayal and blood.

“I considered just... any life. But- that doesn’t seem a fair trade,” Cyrus sighed, running his own ringed fingers over his face. “I’m not willing to attempt the spell without certainty. The cost of failure is too high, and it’s your only chance.”

“Of course,” Darius said. “I do not take any of this lightly. I am very grateful to you, Cyrus.”

Cyrus gave a small smile, though his face was tired. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Not until after I guarantee this will work.” He propped his chin in his hand. “It’s starting to look like there’s no way for me to be sure what is an acceptable trade, unless I speak with Nature themself.” Cyrus paused. “Which would be difficult, because I’ve never tried to form any sort of connection with Nature before. I didn’t get the education most witches do from their covens, and I was learning so much about the practical side that it slipped my mind.”

“Well,” Darius said, “I am sure there is no time like the present to get acquainted with your god.” Something Cameron, too, was unable to do. “Asmi seems… sturdy.”

Cyrus hummed. “Sturdy. Concrete. Something like that. I think.” He tapped his cheek. “I have no idea how to go about it, though.”

“I could reach out,” Darius offered. “Seeing as how I’m in the same realm as they are. And there’s less risk to you if I were to approach them first.”

Cyrus considered that. “That would... be very helpful, actually,” he mused. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Though perhaps after I take a nap.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #hell to pay #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: darius #ch: nik #ch: biela

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intricate-oeuvre · 5 years ago

Text

say it before you run out of time || B. Hardy || part VI

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Ben and the reader have been friends since childhood. And along the way reader falls in love with him. But it might be too late when another girl shows up claiming that she’s his girlfriend.

Warnings: indicating towards adult content, drinking, smoking, probably highly inappropriate

A/n: hmu if you want to be tagged in future chapters, CHEERS!

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI part VII part VIII part IX part X part XI part XII part XIII

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***gif- courtesy of google // if it’s yours hit me up so I can credit you

Ben’s hand was still wrapped gently around your wrist. You glanced at it every five seconds, unsure why he asked you to follow him.

“Wait, I need to find keys.” Ben let go of your hand and wandered to the front door, where his keys were. Grabbing ring with all the keys, he made his way to doors, briefly stopping to look back at you:

“Coming?” he asked. You stood there, doubtful, looking at doors. Did you really want to go back out there? You were called wet rat after all.

You probably still would be looking outside if movement from Ben wouldn’t had bought your attention back:

“Hey.” He called and stretched his hand out for you to take. You turned to him with questioning look on your face.

“You are fine. Come now.” Ben urged. You nodded and reached out to take his hand. As your hand slid into his, he used his chance and yanked his hand back, pulling you to him. Making you stumble in his chest.

“Shit, sorry.” You hissed, other hand now resting on his chest. Ben only laughed tilting his head. You took a step back. Feeling your movement, Ben in seconds let go of your hand and wrapping it around your waist pulled you back closer.

“Don’t think of running, I will catch you.” Ben smirked, looking down at you.

“Okay.” You let out weakly. Ben looked at you, not taking his eyes away from your face. Taking in every little detail that adored your face. Starting from your eyebrows till your lips. So kissable. His green eyes that seemed suddenly so impossibly darker, jumped up to your eyes. Ben let out deep breath through his nose, his chest moving against yours, his fingers digging harder into your side.

If only he knew how you felt about him. And all these emotions rapidly came back, in stronger waves. You needed him as much as air and ground itself. For a moment you even didn’t know how it would feel without him.

“We need to talk.” He suddenly said, his expression changing drastically. Thus, making you take a step back and let out a small ‘shit’.

And you are running again, and my hands fall down at my sides, Ben though briefly, looking away.

“Alright.” You said louder and followed Ben as he walked out.

You almost run into his back when Ben abruptly stopped outside. Glancing around him you noticed that he was looking at Nina and Dom.

“Go.” Ben said quietly, moving his hand behind himself to give you the keys. You took the them and slowly walked in the direction of pool-house. You still glanced behind yourself, seeing Ben walk closer to both and saying something to Dom. As Nina was ready to interrupt Ben, he pointed at her and said something to make her shut up. But she didn’t stay in place, named girl jumped up and was now face to face with Ben. You didn’t stay for any longer and made your way to the pool-house.

Unlocking the doors, you opened them and turning the light on, looked around, not much was actually in here. Couple of counter tops, lonely football, Frankie’s toys that she had somehow managed to sneak in here.

Leaving small gap in the doors you walked in and sat upon one of the counter tops.

For a moment you were sitting alone. There was a sound near the doors and you looked up. Frankie’s nose in the doors.

“Hey, Franksta…” you said softly and tried to coax the dog in. The pup did come in but was more interested in her toys that were on the floor than you.

“Okay…” you trailed off with a sigh. Part of you was dreading whatever Ben was about to tell you. You weren’t sure what you are going to say to him. What if something so stupid as pouring out your heart about your feeling towards him, come out of your mouth as soon as you opened it? Gripping tighter the edge of the counter you leaned back against the wall.

“Shit…” was it too late to leave and run away? You slid off the counter and made your way toward the door. As soon as you reached out for the handle, Ben opened it from other side.

“Are you running?” he asked raising an eyebrow at you.

“No.” you swallowed. You could see he was annoyed with something. The look not only slightly scaring you, but making you feel things that you didn’t think you should be feeling.

“Ben, are you alright?” you dared to asked, letting him step in.

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and walked across the room. Little house was built in way that no actual windows were low enough to see through them. They were placed up in the wall near the roof, to bring sunlight from above. So, he climbed up on the counter and peered out of the window.

“Just peachy.” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“You wanted to talk.” You started, still standing near the closed door if you needed to leave. Turning around, standing on the counter, Ben noticed your position in the room. With tilt of his head, he motioned with two fingers for you to come closer.

“Get up.” Ben gave you his hand and pulled you on the counter.

“Why are we standing on the counter, Ben?” you asked confused.

“Why wouldn’t we.” He answered and turned back towards the window.

“What do you see?” he asked, clearly talking about the outside. But you only stared at him.

The longer you stared at him, more you realized you both were like:

Fire & water; hot & cold; spring & autumn; day & night; dark & light.

Ben turned to glance at you, making you look away and stare out of the window.

Nina was sitting next to her friends, her eyes full with tears.

“What happened?” you asked.

“I think I’m drunk.” Ben said as an answer. You furrowed your brows and looked at him.

“What?” you chuckled.

“I am not sure on what, but I am drunk.” Ben furrowed his brows in thought.

“Alright? Why is Nina crying?” You asked unsurely.

“That’s part of what I wanted to talk about.” He said sitting down on the counter and leaning against the wall.

“Okay. I’m listening.” You said sitting down with crossed legs next to him.

“She’s crying because I haven’t asked her to be my girlfriend.” Ben explained. That didn’t make sense.

“I think I am not following.” You were confused.

“She thinks that if we don’t have label, it means she still can go around kissing other guys. And when I point that out, she feels offended.” Ben sighed and rolled his eyes.

“How about trust, huh? Must be wild concept for her.” Ben said rubbing his eyes.

“And why don’t you label it if you want it so much?” you asked.

“Want it? I didn’t say that.”

��But Nina told me…” you trailed off.

“She talks a lot…” Ben used that as an explanation to her words.

“Then why is she… here...?” you asked.

“When I met her, she seemed different. Now it feels like she’s all over the place and not with me.” Ben said, head leaned back against the wall, but his eyes glued to Frankie who was still chewing on her toy.

“So, friends with benefits for her?” you rationalized.

“Something along those lines.” He said uninterested.

“I know you don’t like her.” His eyes suddenly were on you.

“Why do you think that?”

“I might be drunk, but I am not blind, love.” Ben gave you a crooked smile.

“She’s really… possessive. I get it, you’re dating-“ you started.

“We aren’t dating.” Ben corrected. “It’s just hanging out at the moment.”

“Okay. But if she loves you then it’s understandable…”

“If she loves me. That’s really funny.” Ben chuckled bitterly.

“Well, then it would explain why she is so possessive that she even doesn’t like the fact that we are… friends.” You said, staring straight ahead as that last word left bitter taste in your mouth.

Part of you hoped that Ben’s drunken state won’t register your change of tone.

“Friends…” Ben repeated quietly. You held your breath, waiting on what he’s going to say next.

“Why haven’t we ever… you know…” Ben was searching for a word.

“Ben. You are drunk.” You warned him. You didn’t want him to call it a hook up, because you were never looking for a hook up with him. You wanted something more than a simple hook up. You got too many feelings invested in him that you weren’t sure if your heart could take an unmeaningful hook up.

“I am not that drunk.” He dismissed you.

“We are busy people, Ben. I have my degree to finish and your carrier is just now taking off.” You said. Ben didn’t answer. For a moment you though that you had made him think that you don’t want him.

“Can I kiss you?” Ben asked, his eyes glued to the back of your head.

You stiffened. Feeling as if your back was a tense rod.

“Why?” you asked, your mouth going dry.

“To know how you taste.” Ben murmured and run one single finger down your spine.

Causing a shiver run down your back, setting something aflame in you.

“My clothes look really good on you…” he said as his eyes took in the yellow fabric. His eyes slid further down, stopping at the shorts you were wearing.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in your back. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your feet. Would it hurt too much if you only took a taste? And never be able to do so again?

“You are wearing those panties that you left at my place, aren’t you?”

Your eyes grew big, heat rushing to your cheeks and neck. Letting out a shuddering breath, you looked over your shoulder at Ben. He was sitting there with his hands in lap and head still tilted against the wall, looking at you down his nose as wicked smirk adored his face. That was not supposed to look as erotic as it did.

“What? Am I wrong?” he bit his lower lip, trying to stop himself from smirking.

“No.” you swallowed and watched how his eyes traveled down to your shorts.

“I quite liked those.” He said, letting his tongue slide across his bottom lip for a second.

“Ben?” you questioned, unconsciously squeezing your legs more together.

“Yeah…?” He let out an airy breath and looked in your eyes. That same dark look in his eyes like earlier. Ben was about to reach out for you when someone’s voice rung from outside:

“Ben!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @brianandthemays @queen-turtle-boiii @rogahloveshiscar @radiob-l-a-hblah @scarsout @sara-1705 @babydazz @mercurycrowley @drowse13 @ironicallyrog @moe-jazzello @forbbidensunlust @virtualsheepeat @vanitysfairr @luvborhap @loveandbeloved29 @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy x female reader #bohemian rhapsody #woman in white #xmen #Warren Worthington III #mary shelley #eastenders #friends to lovers #sibyroot series

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drnucleus · 5 years ago

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We get down every Friday night Dancin' and grindin' in the pale moonlight Grand Ole Opry, feelin' alright Mary prays the rosary for my broken mindI sing the body electric I sing the body electric, baby I sing the body electric I sing the body electric Sing the body electric Sing the body electric I'm on fire I sing the body electric

Body Electric - Lana Del Rey

Bedroom Hymns - A Reylo Fic by drnucleus

Author: drnucleus Rating: E Genre: Modern AU, Romance, Mild Angst, Semi-slow burn Pairing: Ben Solo | Rey, Minor character pairings Warnings: Healthy BDSM, D/s relationship, Male submissive, FemDomme Summary: For much of his life, hotshot architect, Ben Solo, lived a life full of privilege and entitlement. Son of a Senator and Admiral, the world was his oyster. He slid easily into the alpha male persona that was expected of him. Yet, running his own architecture firm by his late twenties he’d never expected to be saddled with the control behind every single decision. And underneath that façade lay a man, yearning to lay it all down at the foot of a powerful woman. What happens when he uncovers that side of himself and that leads him right to Rey Erso; a psychologist and domme who decides to help him navigate the world of dominance and submission in the local scene. That is until they find they’re more compatible with one another than either of them previously thought.

Chapter playlist: Amber – Vitamin String Quartet (Originally 311); The Sinner in Me – Depeche Mode; Push – Madonna; Everybody’s Got a Family – Massive Attack; Body Electric – Lana Del Rey; Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode; #1 Crush – Garbage; Strict Machine – Goldfrapp

Chapter Sneak Peek

“And hold that for five breaths. Slowly inhale through your diaphragm, and hold for three… two… one… and exhale.” Mirax instructed out to the class in front of her as she moved around the room, correcting postures and praising those with perfect technique.

Towards the back Ben pushed his hips to the ceiling in pūrvottānāsana an upward plank pose in the primary series Asanas. The muscles of his arms and shoulders burned worse than any set of pushups or weights had ever pushed him before. To his right Poe huffed as his arms shook.

Mirax came over to Poe, directing his attention to his core. “Poe, try shifting your weight to your center, here,” she stated, with a hand flat to his naval just hovering above it. She did that often. Correcting her student’s postures but never touching them.

Ben supposed it was her way of allowing the student to self-correct, and grow. If there was one thing he’d learned in beginning yoga classes as per Rey’s instructions, it was a process. You started at one place and through each subsequent session you grew – you learned.

Poe huffed again and tried to shift his weight but his arms only grew shakier as Mirax walked away and he collapsed to the floor.

“Good technique, Ben, keep breathing,” she added with a gentle grin cast in his direction.

Annoyed, Poe leaned over towards Ben. “What does that even mean? Direct my weight to my center? What bullshit did you convince me to do?” Poe snarked with a loud whisper.

Ben rolled his eyes and sat down, bringing one knee in and bending at his waist, one hand around his back and the other reaching for his foot in Ardha Baddha Padma Paścimottānāsana, a seated half-bound lotus pose. Grasping it wasn’t the problem here. His flexibility had improved in the last three weeks he’d been attending Mirax’s classes. However, he still needed a strap for most flexibility things, and a block at times but he was getting better at it. Could feel his hips and thighs loosen a little more each class letting him stretch further for longer each time.

That had been Rey’s intention all along. Get him centered, limber. When she’d tried teaching him once he was back from New Zealand they’d gotten half way through Sūrya Namaskāra or the sun salutation series before they’d given up and ended up roughly fucking, half-clothed on her living room floor. He’d been the aggressor. Distracted by the way her body bent so easily and then her hands on his as he tried to mirror her example. Then, in the afterglow she’d declared that he needed to go to a real studio to learn Ashtanga yoga from a professional. It so happened that Mirax Horn had a studio that specialized in Ashtanga yoga. Meant for increasing endurance, strength, stamina and flexibility.

The first two classes had kicked his ass. Barely able to make it through the fundamental asanas after eight sun salutation series before he was gasping and his muscles giving up. Mirax had been kind, and aided him in getting set with a wheel, block and strap to help him through much of the rest of the ninety-minute class. She’d helped him afterwards, giving him direction on what to do as a morning and evening routine to increase his flexibility between classes. Simple stretches to loosen up his muscles that relaxed him before bed every night, and got him focused and ready for the day every morning. Rey had been encouraging, joining him in those stretches when they spent the night together, which often led to more aerobic activities on the closest surface.

Mirax gave the boys a disapproving glance at Poe’s continued belligerence. Ben sighed and gave her a reassuring smile before leaning back over to his best friend and silencing him. “Will you shut the fuck up? This is supposed to be quiet.”