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plasticfangtastic · 1 year

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American Royalty. Ch. 6

A Homelander x F!Reader and Dadlander fanfic

A/N: sorry for the wait lads, sadly I've had to put my other fic on hiatus (bcuz am overwhelmed irl from work and writing) but bcuz of that I'll be able to post this with more frequency. If you're interested in being in the taglist plz drop a comment with a request! Thanks to everybody who reads this work, you guys are awesome! also my masterlist doesn't have anymore space so I'll be making a list for this series soon, here's the previous chapter:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship.

Chapter Six

Loaded weapon.

Heavy puddles splashed all accross the floor under hundreds of steps, people panicked and yelled in fear as water burst in violent streams and the foundation of the wall eager to crumble. The dog had lost its professional cool barking madly as his owner tried to leave fast enough. Water pushing people and bodies crashing against the ground, Homelander was the first to notice the strain on her face as she tried to contain another sneeze, he looked at the mutt.

“GET THAT FUCKING RAT AWAY FROM HERE!!” He screamed, his eyes a bright red as he puffed his chest, the woman panicked picking her dog in a single swoop rushing out, splashing loudy and crying.

Behind him Helena held the flood, her arms held before her, creating a thick translucennt blue lit wall separating the thousands of gallons and the room, her body pushed back but she kept pushing forward, glass, debris and fish floating in front of her, the wall rippling around individual points, her face ready to sneeze, she was hurting, growing hot and red.

“Stop that! I'll get you out of here! Ryan!” He looks around trying to find his son in the diminishing crowd.

“The fishies!! I won’t kill the fishies!!” She cried.

“Fuck!” He cursed deciding between picking her by force and letting the chaos worsen or allowing her to continue– Y/N get Ryan, I’ll evacuate these people… can’t fucking believe I have to call Deep!!” He looked at Helena then back at you as you ran fidgeting with your bag– can… can she?”

You ignored him, splashing past him with a prescription blister.

“Is okay Helena, baby… open your mouth.”

She swallowed dried.

“She can hold it! Now do your hero shit!” You shouted at him.

The police and Vought came down, your schedule had been overridden and made irrelevant but you were glad both kids were okay, you both stayed there until the aquarium’s staff and the Deep had taken care of the fish as Helena refused to let the surviving fishes get injured, Homelander had been left in awe watching her eyes blinked a dozen shades of blue as she built stairs out of her own psionic wall for the rescuers to work with ease, getting an idea of how her powers functioned.

Smaller fishes and debri floated under the stairs, she adjusted the height of the wall to let people in, modifying for every request the teams had, as specialist vacuums pumped the water out, the outside was so loud with news vans, police and fire department doing their work, but she never broke concentration.

He had forced Deep to reassure her that the fishes were okay and weren’t angry at her, and Kevin wasn’t stupid enough to question anything about what was happening, he looked at the little girl and talked to her, turning to his freshwater friends to exchanged messages as the girl was filled with guilt and remorse, trying not to cry as to not lose her concentration.

Homelander felt prideful as he watched her work, until the moon was out and she could finally rest.

She passed out the moment the wall came down, after most of the water had been drained, she dropped instantly– Homelander caught her, his sight softening as he lifted her closely.

Ryan watched him with confusion as he carried this stranger in one arm so carefully, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, letting his chin drop against her head, to catch a whiff of her coconut shampoo.

“Is she alright?” Ryan asked, pushing her draping arm towards her stomach.

“I don’t know.” He looked at you, not wanting to hand her back– care to explain.”

“She must’ve turned off her radar… Helena is severely allergic to dogs. She can sneeze no problem” You lifted her sleeves not caring about how close you were to Homelander, her arm was covered in old darkened spots, from years of scratching, fresh hives and red streaks had settled even with the medication– but she can’t be around dogs… thank god she didn’t have an asthma attack.”

You stroke her hair checking for hives, around her neck.

“That’s why I couldn’t stay at friends for long…” You took her from him, he tried not to protest as you tore him apart– her babysitter had a mini poodle… and that was fine even if it gave her hives from time to time… she was getting better… it's my fault I didn’t check if she took her meds today.”

Homelander absorbed the information.

Some fish died and hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages had been incurred but Vought would covered it all, his only nuisance was Ashley that had come down to the scene, she tucked her chin down as she approached him wearily, she had never expected to get such a call from Homelander earlier in the day, making her panic that this had been serious and maybe news worthy.

Seeing him in human clothes was a first, he didn’t look any more approachable than before, Homelander looked at her with annoyance demanding her to ‘spit it out already’ without words.

“Everything is under control as you asked! The aquarium holds no ill-will, and Deep has reassured me… multiple times.” She signed– minimal fish lives were lost and all the fish are not holding any grudges. There’s just one probl—

“What!!?” he yelled.

“The kid!” she jumped trying to hide behind thin air– We… for insurance purposes we need her information.”

Ashley gave you and Homelander a second look, looking at his display of stealth wealth, at Ryan and the ketchup stain on his collar, at your tired look, how severely underdressed compared to him yet still trying to look stylish in your turtleneck, skinny jeans and indoor sneakers then finally at the little girl whom he had made such strange demands for, that her mouth made an ‘O’ shape.

This was a date.

A date she was interrupting.

“You know what, sir. I’ll handle it all… you can just go and escort these civilians, we can talk about the details tomorrow when everything has calmed down.” She said knowing that a migraine was incoming– is that okay?”

She looked at you instead, trying to decipher who you were.

“I work for Homelander. Am one of his personal cooks… all my contact information– you blurted.

You looked down holding Helena tightly.

“Is okay darling! Just swing by when you come back from work and we can do all the ugly paperwork then. Is that okay?” If she squinted any harder she might go blind as she interrupted you, she smiled stroking your shoulder– just make sure this little bundle is feeling better in the morning. You know where my office is?”

“Yes, Ms. Barrett… I don’t have to go to HR? or CM?” Your cheeks reddened, yet feeling somewhat relieved.

She gives Homelander a nervous look then back at you with plastic confidence.

“Is fine! We deal with so many little kids… lots of parents have gone thru the same thing.”

“I broke Ashley’s door the other week,” said Ryan nervously.

She nodded with half closed eyes, already stroking the kid’s hair to reassure him it was fine.

“Go get some rest, will you– am just gonna go over there and see what the Deep’s doing”

She could really speed up in those heels, not wanting to persue this any further just glad everything seemed fine.

You expected to part from him at this point, but he escorted you back to your car. His excuse was to keep the reporter or police from harassing you. The long walk was filled with awkward silence, interrupted by Ryan here and there who realized that he could never quite get that dog, if Helena was around.

The kid wasn’t stupid, he had catched his father kissing you earlier, nervous to ask the little girl if she knew what was taking place behind them, and even if he hadn’t he could see in the way he looked at you– that there was something different about you, and in the way he clung to her that made a knot in his throat grow bigger.

Ashley stared at her computer screen as other members of Crisis Management delivered the news, Analytics had removed the videos but they were still circulating, Homelander couldn’t catch a break as he sat in Ashley’s couch looking at the scene, some chump had been recording his trip when it all took place, the accidental power release and Homelander’s violent outburst. It was all too fresh since the sham trial, even if he had left the courtroom with clean hands, there were people waiting for bones to tear him apart, especially when nobody understood why he had lost his cool and nearly lasered down an emotional support dog.

“She’s severely allergic… takes arbinoxa and clarinex for it, even gets asthma on the worse times.” He rested his eyes under his glove, he had skipped sleep and gotten her medical files instead– she couldn’t control her powers– fuck I might need to get her immunotheraphy…” He mumbled.

Homelander had spent the night researching how to help her, reading countless websites and pestering the lab rats downstairs for information. He could in theory provide Helena with help but her skin proved problematic.

“Y’all get the fuck out I need to speak to this idiot!” He hit his arm rest.

The team left without question, Ashley crying after them internally as she foound herself in the same room with a predator.

“Everything okay? The videos we can–

“Tell the media that it was a fucking allergic reaction, keep her ‘anonymous’ understand!! I don’t want anybody knowing who the fuck she is” He snapped– It was an accident!”

He stood up heading straight for her shiny new desk.

“... Helena L/N is my daughter. You know our little issue downstairs in the writer’s room?” She nodded absentmindedly trying to process his revelation– I want her mother to pretend to be Ryan’s… they are both siblings so it's an easy sell.”

“She looks nothing like you.” Ashley’s voice was so low it was barely a peep.

“She’s mine… I triple checked… we can just say genetics are weird– god I already had this conversation! I just need to smooth some things here and there, but she cannot get in trouble! Not my daughter!-- and if the people wanna guess why I reacted like that… well tell them that that fucking mutt being there could’ve hurt people! There were tanks all around us...” Homelander sat across from her, his whole body exhausted a rare sight admittedly, somethign that intrigued Ashley– give that to the team but keep it on a waterproof seal, capiche?”

Ashley bit her lips nervously as she began to process his revelations, this was the odd 2nd penny she received from Homelander, already wondering if this promiscuous bastard had more children spread around, she made a mental note to double check any surviving laids to make sure Vought wouldn’t be hit with an embarrassing child support suit out of the blue.

“And the mom…?” She looked at her notes– Y/N is she going to be a problem?”

“Look at you all serious.” Her sober expression gained some color, she might now sit higher on the ladder but he was still top dog, maybe it was the brand new plaque on her door or the view on 82 giving her attitude but she was no Edgar or Stillwell– careful with that tone.”

Ryan was a sweet boy, she had grown fond of him, the boy was as if all of his father’s humanity had been spat out and condensed into one innocent child, she had grown to like being called ‘miss Ashley’ and ‘auntie’– she was also aware that the kid had kept her alive on the occasion without noticing… so all those good things came with a price and that was that Homelander now had nothing left to give to mortals like her. She stiffen her back as her skin grew blotchy.

“I’ll have a team do a background check just to be cautious… I’m sure she’ll be a team player.” She forces a confident expression– she looks perfect for the role.”

He got up with a grin.

You headed downstairs to pick up your kid, as Ashley had promised nothing big had come out of it, you were given a business card and a registration application package-- you had missed a lot of paperwork by skirting on the edge of their radars, it seems. You walked mindlessly, your back aching and your feet sore, you couldn’t wait to get takeout and have some mocktails with your kid, when you were spotted.

A man you had never seen before pulled your shoulder gently, he had the nicest shoes you ever seen, you looked at his clothes and it was all sharp and smart casual and probably expensive.

“Hi. You must be Helena’s mom, right?” he asked far too casually to not feel threatening– I'm Nigel, Elmo’s dad.”

You turned pale.

“Nice to meet you… I’m Y/N… our kids are friends!" Your voice slightly shaky-- Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier!” You stretched your hand, forcing the best customer service voice you could muster– how may I help you?”

“Well… my little prince is finally showing interest in being a supe and he drew this yesterday” He took a folded drawing from his jacket– It seems our kids are making big plans together. I work in hero management so if this is something you’re interested in, give me a call.”

He wasn’t actually pleased, he sounded as if Helena had thwarted some grand vision– at least this wasn’t about your kids' numerous crimes together, with yours as the mastermind.

You took the page seeing a crude drawing of a little asian boy and what you assumed was Helena, their names drawn in crayon “Phantasma and Poltergeist” wearing matching black, white and red suits, your daughter in a mostly black-red suit with red gloves and boots and him in the white-red suit with black gloves and boots. It was crude but you could see the vision.

“We had some names but… it's catchy” He said mildly annoyed– your daughter is very cute, they could make a great tag-team, there is actually not that much competition at the moment.”

“I’ll talk to her and see what she wants but I can take your business card… I actually don’t have a caseworker for Helena, we weren’t really going to pursue this but she seems to be warming up to the idea.”

“Your husband wasn’t down for it?” He seemed to want to coax information out of you.

“I am single… it's complicated.” He cringed but joined you as you walked towards the daycare entrance– Is it expensive to make a suit?”

He spoke to you of the basics, of the initial investment costs, and the importance of design and branding, he was over the moon that Elmo understood color theory. He told you about how he and his husband Sven adopted Elmo from Korea when he was five months old and you told him how you been a single mom since the start. You both shared bite-sized throwaway stories of dealing with kids with powers and all the broken stuff one had to clean up over the years.

The usually manic carer looked at you with horror as she spoke with two security officers with tears in her eyes, as you opened the doors.

“What did she do now?” You said already drained, already preparing yourself for asking Homelander to help you keep her in OSCH.

“Are you Mr. Cripple and Ms. L/N?” Asked the security officer– "you need to come with us.”

You both panicked but the people gave you no answers, as you were forcible escourted to an area that only Nigel seemed to be familiar with, the thick cement walls of the lower floors made you more than uneasy, even the air tasted stale, both of your kids had been locked in 42D, had those guns not been loaded you would’ve made a scene.

A man neither of you had met before, awaited you in a separate room– A prison cell with a unwelcoming little set-up.

The man looked up from his files offering you both to sit, obeying purely out of fear without protest or sound.

“Ms. L/N how much do you think a vial of compound V cost?” he asked with a menacing tone.

You looked at Nigel who had no reply.

“Did my daughter do something…?”

“She did something indeed” The man in his serious black clothes who was probably one of the heads of security played you both normal and thermal camera CCTV footage, they didn’t look to be in the room at first until the filter was on, she kept to the corner and only moved to touch stuff after making them invisible.

You could see Helena scribbling on a notepad while fidgeting with the hi-tech equipment in the meantime Elmo sat keeping eye out or just bored out of his mind, exploiting his powers to go in and out at random hours during her care times, the footage compilations of at least one week’s worth of this nonsense.

The scene culminating with her taking a whole dozen bottles.

“You think my daughter is selling V in the playground!?” You shouted.

“My son has nothing to do with that miscreant!”

“I will have to agree. I doubt he knows what’s happening” You squeezed your fist– I understand she’s done something wrong, but did you just put my seven year old and her friend in jail!?”

“Your daughter is a super. We are just taking the necessary precautions.” He defended his actions.

“My daughter could break out of that cell and she choses not to… you are overreacting!” Your nails dig into your skin, your legs jittery.

“I would argue that makes her more dangerous…” The man looked serious– We are waiting for some people from legal–

The door was ripped apart from its hinges, scrunched and folded, as he tried to speak.

You jumped under the table.

Homelander stood in the wreckage, concrete dust covering his hair and like thunder in a storm his eyes glowed violently like lighting, he lifted his hand and demanded the man’s attention with a wag of his finger, the man stumbled out of his seat as you and Nigel cowered inside.

There was no screaming, just an unbearable silence and faraway steps approaching-- then the sound of a skipping pebble echoing across the hall.

“Congratulations on the promotion, wank stain” Homelander spoke to one of the men that had come– you better pray that my Helena doesn’t have a single scratch.” He growled quite literally growled.

You emerged from beneath, taking meek weary steps towards the exit.

You were on the other side of those eyes, your chest palpitating, your skin tight, it felt as if you could be suffocating on clean air.

As you saw the rage in his face, a part of you that had been left abandoned clench, to see him irate on your behalf, for him to have hurt somebody for your child, it made you blush.

Just how fucked up were you? You shouldn’t find him handsome as he licked a callous splatter of blood off his lip.

But there he was looking at you with those piercing eyes, that you remembered he never was anything but a beautiful and untouchable beast you once tamed.

taglist-- @immyowndefender @fromforeigntofamiliarity @demodemo909

#personal #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys oc #my fic tag #homelander fanfic #i am esl so sorry for grammar #dadlander #the boys fanfic #hopefully i can post chapter 7 in the next few days

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serennedyweek2024 · 10 months

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Serennedy Week 2024 - Valentine's Day edition!

Hey serennedy community! I am hosting a Serennedy week from Sunday, February 18th to Sunday, February 25th, 2024, in honour of Valentine's Day <3

This event will not occur during the actual week of Valentine's Day, as another event for Winterfield is happening that week and I don't want to infringe on their event! So we're doing this event a week late.

Also, as a note, I am in no way associated with the previous Serennedy Week event runners. I have no idea who ran that event and I have no correlation to them. I'm just doing my own thing separately! So the rules will be slightly different. Just bear with me.

Rules:

There's no sign up process! Just show up during the week of the event, post your works, and tag "#serennedy week 2024" and/or "#serennedyweek2024". Both tags will be used and monitored by this account.

Content for this event can be ANYTHING you create! Fanfics, fanart, video edits, picture edits, gif sets, collages, moodboards, audio edits, 3D renders, whatever!

No ai art or ai-generated content of any kind. AI art is NOT real art and will not be tolerated. It is also just unfair to the other artists who actually put time and effort into what they make!

The prompts are all SFW, BUT you are welcome to make NSFW content for any prompt you'd like. I don't want anyone to feel like they're missing out, and it's easier to just have the prompts under one category. However, please have NSFW tagged in your post! And use the appropriate Community Labels.

Prompts can also be completed on any of the days, not just the assigned days, AND you are welcome to mix up prompts and do more than one on any day, from any day. Do as many as you like!

No proshippers allowed. This includes "dark romance" themes such as SA, or "dub con" content. None of that is allowed in this event. You can do that on your own; you will not bring it here.

There will not be a discord, and if a discord is made in the name of this event, it is not official and should be ignored. Discord is not a safe space for many people, and I do not use it.

We are a community of creators and artists, of all different kinds of identities, and any hatred, bigotry, or discrimination of ANY kind will not be tolerated. (Also, any whitewashing of Luis will not be tolerated.)

Be polite, and be kind! Support your fellow artists and creators.

The prompts will be posted separately, so keep an eye out for those! If you have any more questions, please feel free to reach out to me either through DMs or asks. I'm happy to help!

#Serennedy #Serennedy Week 2024 #SerennedyWeek2024 #Leon S Kennedy #Luis Serra #Luis Serra Navarro #Leon Kennedy #Serrenedy #Serrennedy #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 4 Remake #Resident Evil 4 #RE4 #RE4 Remake #Leonluis #RE4R

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thecomfywriter · 2 months

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🤠Nine Lines, Nine People🤠

Heyyo! Finally getting around to my tags oopsies. Thank you to the wonderful @harps-for-days for tagging me in this game!

Rules: Post 9 lines of your wip, then tag 9 people to do the same.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

This is a paragraph from my book, Throne of Vengeance, from chapter III. Alan and the Incident. I added in brackets the sentence that precedes it just to give some context, but technically that makes it 10 lines so sorry :(

[I needed not ask him what had occurred, only to bear with unparalleled dread the unfolding of historical events before me, as Mother Dragon’s previous attacks paled against the horror of the Incident.] Her grief poisoned to bloodlust as a raging rampage terrorized the land, demanding penance for the attempt made upon her life. Red downpoured in endless streams. A ruthless silence rung clearer than the curdling screams of fleeing Cairoyas, who tripped over the hundreds of dead bodies that already scattered the land. Corpses covered in blistering black patches of leathered skin and unhealable burns floated unnaturally atop the lava before setting afire and washing downstream. Lava rushed into the kingdom like waves of a tsunami crashed over a stormy sea, and fireballs of scarlet speared the sky like tragic shooting stars. The memory sped faster, towards Hilbert of Young panting as he himself fled, first towards the ruins of promised security. I watched him as he stared at the caves open mouth, which continued to cramp bodies into the small space. Without enough space nor a boulder in place to secure their safety, their promised sanctuary was nothing but another graveyard. Still, they ran in, pushing each other for a spot inside, tossing others out, turning the caves into a cannibalistic ring for survival.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

I'll be tagging: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @paeliae-occasionally @mysticstarlightduck @wiltingwxrds @winterandwords @zackprincebooks @did-i-do-this-write @frostedlemonwriter

if you've already done this challenge, feel free to skip, or share another excerpt. i'll be reading either way :)

P.S. i'm editing ToV right now and my god i do love this book so much. i can't wait to publish it

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 months

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In Her Eyes

Chapter Twenty

Master List / Bucky Barnes Master List / Series Master List

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Lana Perez

Warnings: talk of human trafficking, mentions of sex trafficking, black market underworld, Steve's mouth.

A/N: Thank you, Mea C, for your patience in getting this chapter out and for your support through Coffee Requests!

Previous Chapter

Steve smirked slightly to himself as Bucky snatched his girl and ran. Honestly, he couldn't blame the guy. The sexual tension between the two had been ratcheting up all evening. That they made it this long showed a serious amount of willpower he hadn't known Bucky possessed. At least not when it came to Lana.

Isla chuckled when she glanced at the empty seats and rubbed Baz's ears. The dogs curled between them, Drugi claiming Steve's lap while Baz sprawled across Isla.

"You don't object, do you?" Steve asked quietly.

They were sharing the loveseat one forward from Bucky and Lana's. There was enough space for quiet conversation, especially as the kids sprawled on the floor in front of the television or the sectional, as close to the TV as possible, which took up most of the wall.

Lana shot him a smirk and shook her head. "Considering Barnes looks at her like she hung the moon? Hell no. That girl deserves all the love in his little super soldier heart."

Keep Reading on AO3

I do not tag. For notifications on the story, please follow it on AO3. An account is required to access my work. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.

#in her eyes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #avengers au

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veronicaphoenix · 1 year

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Chapter tags & trigger warnings: angst, ptsd, anxiety, references to sexual content, references to alcohol consumption, references to childhood trauma and abusive relationships. | Word count: 5.6k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

I felt a tingling in my nose, and I had some difficulty breathing. When I opened my eyes, my vision was clouded by a curtain of brown hair. I perceived the scent of vanilla, and then my nerve endings realized that what was pressed against me was a body.

Lia’s body.

I almost jumped off the bed. I jerked upright, wide-eyed, staring at the figure on the pull-out sofa.

Lia was sleeping with her back on the mattress, one hand on her chest, her head cocked to the opposite side where I had been. My face had been sunk in her hair, and there, I had spent my sleeping hours, in a vanilla-scented, silky-smooth paradise, my arm around Lia’s stomach, which was exposed because the T-shirt had ridden up to just below her breasts. A blanket had covered her until I stood up with a start, and although she had her panties on, I was very aware of what had happened.

Of what we had done.

I touched my forehead. My head began to ache.

She looked so serene, so lost in her dreams, and I couldn’t believe the mistake we had made. I didn’t have my t-shirt on, and my sweatpants were unlaced.

Faint rays of sunlight were streaming in from the sides of the curtains on the window, indicating that the clouds of the previous night had dissipated after dropping a downpour that had accompanied us in the background during the night.

I got to my feet and ran to the trash can in search of a used condom. A wave of relief poured through my chest as I realized it was there, only to be overcome with guilt and despair. As much as it was between the two of us, Lia wasn’t going to forgive me for what had happened, and I wasn’t going to forgive myself either.

For a few minutes, I lay still at the end of the bed, not knowing what to do. I looked around me. Empty beer bottles, cans and bags of chips were on the desk, spread out in what little space was left between computer screens, keyboards, speakers and so on. There was a bottle of water lying on the floor, unopened. My t-shirt had ended up on the floor, and was half hidden under the couch. I bent down to pick it up, almost afraid, because picking up the pieces of the night before meant making every single thing that had happened even more real. The memory of Lia’s hands removing my shirt, tracing my tattoos with her fingertips...

It must have been the effect of the alcohol that had her so calm and collected. I could see her chest rise and fall slowly, nothing like the agitated movement of when we had been fucking.

I was aware that this was the calm before the storm. The hurricane I had imagined the night before had nothing to do with the one that was about to come.

I grabbed the sheets and covered Lia with them, and without looking back, I left the studio, my head aching horribly and my heart heavy in my chest.

I ran a hand through my hair as I made my way down the hall and pulled my t-shirt over my head. I needed a coffee and an ibuprofen. What I didn’t need was to find Jolly in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island with the MacBook in front of him and next to it an empty cup of coffee.

“When the hell did you get here?” It was the first thing I managed to say to him, my voice hoarse. I wasn’t expecting him there after he had left to spend the night with Emery, and my state didn’t agree with having to deal with my friend now, when I needed to deal with myself and my actions first.

Jolly looked at the watch on his wrist with raised eyebrows. Some of his hair was tied up in a bun at the back of his head and he was wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans. His backpack lay on the floor by the front door.

“An hour ago, exactly.” He raised his eyes to look at me, and a smile began to creep across his face. “Did you sleep well?” He asked with well-meaning boldness.

He fucking knew.

“When I crossed the hallway I saw that your bedroom door was open and neither you nor Lia were inside. I knocked several times on the studio door and when no one answered I opened it. I was ecstatic when I came back home because I myself had a great night with emery, but man, you’ve finally...”

“Shut up,” I ordered, ignoring him and resuming my walk, heading for the cabinet where we kept the medicines Lia had brought the last time I had been sick.

Behind me, Jolly closed his mouth and followed me with his eyes and his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, tempted to let out a sardonic laugh. I took the pill out of the blister pack and popped it into my mouth. I poured myself a glass of water and turned away as I took a single gulp and swallowed the ibuprofen. “What’s wrong is that Lia was drunk.”

Jolly’s expression fell. He stood upright on the stool. All his attention shifted to me. I saw the concern and disappointment on his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What have you done?”

“I was drunk too, okay?” I tried to justify myself, knowing it was in vain. “Not as much as she was, but... I...” My gaze fell.

Jolly knew exactly what I meant.

I let out a breath of air, rested my hands on the edge of the kitchen island and slumped my shoulders.

“Fuck,” I mumbled. “Fuck! I don’t know what I’m going to do. I swear I didn’t take advantage of her. I would never do anything like that, but I was so out of it... And she... she wanted it. She didn’t do her part and she fucking told me she wanted it.”

“It sounds like you two had a good time, even though you’re pulling your hair out.”

How could I tell Jolly how I’d felt while I had her thighs clinging to my hips and sinking into her tightness again and again, drawing moans from her that made me want to drag that moment into eternity? Even though half of my consciousness had been turned off, I hadn’t enjoyed sex so much in a long time. If I confessed that to Jolly, he’d say something corny like ‘being in love makes it feel better, it’s more enjoyable; it’s different’.

I didn’t want to think about those delusions that morning. I was too hysterical to dream about what it would be like if things worked out. If I was brave. If Lia wasn’t made of glass.

“That’s the last thing that matters right now,” I muttered.

I couldn’t stop shifting my body weight from one leg to the other, and I didn’t know where to look. A wave of fear hit me every time I thought of Lia at the end of the hall, still wrapped in the sheets where our sweat and the stench of sex had settled.

When Jolly sensed my distress, he leaned with one arm on the kitchen isle and faced me more, uttering my name more slowly to claim my attention.

He spoke only when I looked up at him.

“Noah, I’ve known Lia for nearly as long as I’ve known you, and given her alcohol issues I think you should tell her, before it gets worse,” he said, lowering his voice. “There’s no turning back now. I would tell her. Maybe then...”

“Tell her what?”

“Fuck, you’re still pulling that shit?” He showed his exasperation by looking up to the sky and raising his arms. “You’ve had a crush on her for years. You’re in love with her, Noah.”

“She’s my best friend, Jolly.”

“As if that wouldn’t make it any more obvious...” he replied, this time rolling his eyes.

If he was tired, he had an idea of how I felt. Physically, I was fine. My body felt... Satisfied, sated, because it was; sex and sleeping glued to Lia had been a sort of rejuvenating antidote. As for my head and my mental state, I was a mess.

“I need to think, and with this headache I don’t think I can.”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the kitchen island and holding my head in my hands. I tossed my hair back in a gesture of desperation. Just as dozens of images of Lia at my mercy, naked, on my bed, moaning and screaming my name had flashed through my head the night before, now the images suffocating me were terrifying.

“I don’t want to be a pest,” Jolly continued, tucking his hair behind his ear, “but I think things are not going well, and you need to do something about it and stop playing family dramas. I think we’ve all had enough, and I don’t know who you’re trying to fool at this point—yourself? You lost that battle with us long ago, Noah.”

I was exhausted. And I didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze.

Lia already had too many scars. I had always been the one to mend them. I didn’t want to become part of the blacklist on which were written her mother’s name, the names of the men who had passed through her house when she was still a child, the names of several schoolmates, and finally, Mitch’s. I had grown up with a protective instinct toward her, an instinct that was born the moment I saw her sitting on the sidewalk one spring morning, alone, wild, and pulling weeds growing from the concrete. Even though I had been a child, I had felt pity and interest at the same time, and when she lifted her huge eyes to me, I found her to be both a strange and magical creature. There was something about her that I had never seen in other people. It was not something material. It was the aura that enveloped her, her allure.

Others would never understand, but I knew there was a thread that connected Lia and me. My grandmother had told us dozens of times, and we had laughed it off.

It was one of the few times I was alone with Jolly and we were having such a conversation. It was awkward. I wished I could’ve just heard about his night with Emery and feel happy for him. But I couldn’t. Now, I wasn’t used to making confessions this intimate in front of him, even though he was one of my best friends because we had known each other for over a decade, and he knew how I truly felt.

Lia and I had been since before anyone else, hence why it had been weird when our friends started making comments about us that strayed away from what was friendship and wandered into another realm. They always managed to make Lia laugh, and being as she was, so lively and clever, she always had something smart or sassy to reply, or she would seize the moment and seek to tease me with playful comments. While she let the wind take those comments away, for me the situation had been different, and the boys had begun to notice my looks, my behavior, and they realized before I did what was happening to me.

Still, I didn’t want to admit it out loud, and a part of me refused to accept Jolly’s assertions.

“Why would you hurt her? Loving someone implies the opposite. And you, precisely you, all you’ve done for Lia has been taking care of her.”

“Because she just got out of a relationship that fucked her up completely, and because we made a promise when we were kids, and even though I broke it, she doesn’t have to know about it. I’ve already screwed her up enough with this.”

“I don’t know, man. The way I see it, you might be the only one who can help her. And even if she’s still recovering from the hell she’s going through, I don’t think she was really in love with that bastard.”

“What do you mean?”

“That maybe Lia...”

The sound of a door opening down the hall stopped us. My heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds and then resumed its dizzying palpitations.

Jolly’s presence didn’t reassure me in any way. Much less with what he had just told me. If he hadn’t been there, I would have spent the minutes pacing back and forth, crossing the kitchen and living room time after time, thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once I had Lia in front of me again. Maybe she would yell at me, or maybe she would appear down the hallway and pause in the distance to watch me until she found the courage to come over and slap me. Maybe she would burst into tears and drop to her knees on the floor.

Of all the possibilities that crossed my mind, the only one I wanted was the one I knew for certain wouldn’t happen. I was too delusional. The more rational part of me waited for Lia to slap me, and just as one part of me was delusional, another was masochistic, and I didn’t mind Lia letting her emotions out on me if that was how she could let off the frustration, disappointment, and pain.

But it didn’t matter how bad I felt; nor did the fear and the insecurity. There was one memory out of all the ones we had created the night before that constantly overlapped with the others, and that was Lia’s voice whispering to me that she’d been waiting for that moment her whole life, and the clarity in her eyes, the determination that is so uncharacteristic of someone who is completely gone.

How much alcohol was in those words?

I should have made my coffee as soon as I’d entered the kitchen, and drank the whole cup in one go, because I wasn’t ready to face her.

I heard her faint footsteps approaching, and held my breath until she came into view in the hall, in the space separating the kitchen from the living room. Her face, although it betrayed how sleepy she felt, showed how scared she was; terrified, even. She had the same expression of someone who wakes up in an unknown location and is unaware of everything around her. I stood up, freeing my hands from the islet, which I had been clutching tightly until my knuckles turned white.

Lia, with her hair in disarray and dressed in the same t-shirt under which I had slipped my hand to touch her breasts mere hours before, when the wind was still blowing outside and the moon was shining behind the clouds, only paid attention to Jolly’s presence for a couple of seconds. Her gaze lingered on mine. We had never looked at each other like that.

I just wanted to get close to her and wrap her in my arms, protect her small figure, so delicate with that magic that came from the serenity she exuded standing there with my clothes she wore as pj’s and her features still numb.

But with the alcohol almost gone from her system, she was aware that wanting that at that moment was akin to wanting to catch the moon.

“Good morning, Gremlin.”

Jolly’s voice and the affectionate nickname he had bestowed on her years ago didn’t get Lia to take her eyes off me. Although she blinked, she didn’t pay the slightest attention to him. I saw her lips part slightly. Her chest was slowly swelling, but inside her a battle was raging that would only get worse in the next few minutes.

Jolly closed his MacBook and picked it up as he stood up, aware enough that he was not supposed to be there for what was about to happen.

She approached Lia and left a lingering kiss on her head. With the pressure of it, Lia’s head tilted slightly to the opposite side, but she remained undeterred, and reminded me of a lifeless doll.

Jolly disappeared, leaving behind an empty coffee cup and a silence that chilled my blood. My ears couldn’t even hear the ticking of thewall clock or the noises coming from outside through the glass window leading to the garden.

We both heard the door to Jolly’s room close, and we continued to stare at each other for what seemed like an eternity until Lia finally said something.

“Tell me it didn’t happen,” her voice was a whisper that broke on the last word. Her throat must have been dry, even though in the studio there was a full bottle of water on the floor. Her lower lip began to tremble. “Tell me we didn’t do it, Noah.”

There was so much hope in her voice, it was exactly that which broke my heart. Her eyes filled with tears, and I knew that Lia wanted me to scoop her up in my arms and tell her that it hadn’t happened, that it had all been a dream and that everything was still okay between us, that we hadn’t broken any promises and hadn’t crossed a line from which we could never back out.

But even though I could have lied to her, I didn’t.

My face, my expression, revealed the truth to her without needing to say anything.

Her neck was covered in hickeys and marks caused by the little bites I had given her during our unbridled encounter. I bet she hadn’t yet seen them, and that they would remain there for days to remind her of what we had done, whether she liked it or not.

She held her breath for a few moments. She probably had a horrible headache, just as I did. A tear fell from one of her eyes. Immediately, and taking me by surprise, she ran the back of her hand across her cheek to get rid of it, then turned away and hurriedly left the room.

Only then was I able to react and pronounce her name.

I went after her, my heart pounding in my chest and the beat echoing in my ears.

Lia had gone into my room, and by the time I caught up with her just seconds later, she was gathering all her things and putting them in the same bag I had made her pack weeks ago when I went to pick her up from Mitch’s house.

I knew that would be the first exit she would be seeking, and that as soon as she set foot outside this house, my chest would congest and I’d start having trouble breathing, and that I would find myself coughing up flowers that night.

“Lia, wait.”

I had nothing else to say. I didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t want to wait,” she answered, hurriedly and without stopping her moving from one side to the other of the room, ignoring my presence, as if hours before she had not desperately desired it. “I don’t want to keep waiting for my life to fall apart until there’s nothing left to do,” she said as she opened one of the drawers I had emptied for her and she had filled with underwear.

Her words, the tone in which she uttered them, were like needles in my chest. I watched her with a frown and parted lips, looking for a way to stop it, to stop her, to turn back time.

“Lia, we can fix this.”

“No, we can’t,” she replied, raising her head for a moment, “and don’t try to make me believe otherwise.”

Lia had an unfortunate and recurrent experience of problems in her life never getting solved. While at the moment she couldn’t see past what we had done and every bad thing that had happened in her life, I had another perspective. Lia was stronger than she thought she was, and she hadn’t realized it yet.

“Lia, what’s happened...”

I was nervous, and I was scared, but I wasn’t going to let that fear dominate the situation. I grabbed her hands when she made a move to put some shorts in the bag, and the contact startled her, causing her to drop the piece of clothing immediately and turn away from me.

“Listen to me,” I pleaded. “I know you’re angry, and disappointed. So am I. I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I assure you.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it, Noah?” She sobbed. Her legs threatened to give out.

“Because you asked me to go on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, Lia...” It was hard to find the right words. I put a hand to my forehead. I spoke cautiously. “I asked you if you were sure, and you told me you’d been waiting for that moment your entire life.”

My stomach shrank. Lia turned pale as her gaze intensified on mine, her eyes wide open. They were covered with a glossy film. More tears threatened to spill.

“I’d been drinking,” she muttered under her breath, “and I don’t remember anything. You should have stopped me!”

I’d rather she yelled at me than ignored me and gave me the silent treatment.

I took a step toward her. We were no more than six feet apart. The room was big, but that morning it seemed smaller, more suffocating.

“I had been drinking too, Lia. If I hadn’t been in that state, I wouldn’t have let it happen. Who do you take me for? Are you going to blame everything on me?”

Her chest trembled, her features contorting from the crying she was still holding back.

“Lia,” I continued, lowering my voice and opening my arms, showing her that I didn’t want to fight, that I didn’t want to go down this path that was only downhill. “What does it matter? If you can’t remember, let’s forget it and pretend nothing happened.”

She frowned. She sniffled through her nose and again wiped away a tear she hadn’t been able to keep from falling from her eyes.

“Would you be able to? Would it be that easy for you?”

I hadn’t been wrong when I’d woken up that morning and considered how badly we would deal with the consequences of our madness, especially Lia.

“No, of course not,” I answered truthfully. Now I had her in front of me, cowering into herself, on the verge of crying, pale, and seeking safety away from me when the night before had been quite the opposite and her hands had clung to me as if I were her lifeline, my name had been constantly on her lips, asking for more, and my body had served as her shelter when she had let herself go. Of course it wouldn’t be easy for me, for more reasons than she knew. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

The words seemed to stir something inside her, because she allowed herself to cry, holding back sobs now. She stopped looking at me because she could not tolerate it. She dropped onto the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, dejected.

“How am I going to get better like this? What the hell was I thinking?”

She spoke more to herself than to me. She didn’t expect me to give her an answer. She stared at the floor and at two pairs of shoes in the corner, one hers and one mine, as if she didn’t know what they were doing there.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” she decided.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Those words were exactly what I hadn’t wanted to hear even though I knew they would come out of her mouth eventually.

“I am aware of what has happened, of what... we have done,” I hastened to answer, swallowing my breath. “But we can... Let it go. Wipe the slate clean. You don’t have to go anywhere, Lia.”

“I wish it were all so simple,” she whispered, raising her sad brown eyes to me.

“Why isn’t it?”

I knew the answers, but I didn’t want to accept the imminent. I wouldn’t just let her go.

“Don’t you know? How can you look me in the eye after what we’ve done?”

“The same way you are looking at me,” I answered, keeping calm.

“I don’t remember anything,” she insisted through her teeth. Her hands had clutched at the sheets, crumpling them.

“Then I can pretend,” I replied, lifting my chin. “I can pretend nothing happened and you can stay, and things can go on as they are.”

Lia frowned.

“Why does it seem so easy for you, Noah?”

“It’s not,” I admitted, “but if I have to pretend to make you stay, I’ll do it. The last thing I want is for you to leave. I’ve fucked up, I’ve fucked up good. We both have, but I’m not going to throw away our relationship because of one mistake.”

“A mistake? We fucked on the couch, Noah!”

And we promised that something like that would never happen between us. She didn’t say it, but we both knew it.

She raised her voice, and made me lose my temper for a moment.

“And last week we kissed on that very same couch and nothing changed between us, or did it?!”

I watched as my reply disarmed her. She dropped her shoulders. She was no longer crying but it was more than obvious that she was being overwhelmed by dozens of emotions.

“I’m so... angry, Noah... I can’t even tell you.”

“I know, but that doesn’t change that I still want you here, Lia, and that I still want to take care of you.”

“How are you gonna take care of me if I can’t even take care of myself? I shouldn’t have drank a single drop of alcohol. You should have stopped me. This is not working, Noah, and I’m not your responsibility.”

Yeah, you are, whether you want to be or not. You’re my best friend. You’re my family.

“I need help, and I need to get out of here.”

“Lia, I can help you.”

“No,” she answered, stern. “If I stay, all I’ll do is drag you into this pit hole I’m in.”

“And where you plan on going? Back to your apartment? You’d rather be alone?”

“At least this way I won’t hurt you, and I won’t hurt myself.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

“Lia, for God’s sake. Stay. Stay here. If you don’t want to see me, if you don’t want us to pass each other in the hallway, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, but stay.”

“I’m not that childish, Noah,” she mumbled at my solution. “We work together. The tour starts in three weeks. I’m going to see you whether I want it or not.”

She didn’t mean it with spite. Her tone was weak and I knew she was making an effort because she was aware that the consequences of what we’d done were being suffered by both of us. There was a paradox in the fact that a night of pleasure produced so much pain once it was over. I wanted to tell her that we’d just had sex, that it wasn’t the end of the world, but at the same time, mentioning it like that might’ve sound too cold, too harsh, and too meaningless. I didn’t risk it. I had to get her to stay, even if she no longer wanted to talk to me or look me in the eye. I could live with that, I thought, as long as she stayed close, even though the night before, as I was sinking into her, I thought I couldn’t live without that feeling invading me every night for the rest of my life.

“And that’s not the point,” she continued, looking away. I saw her nibble at her lower lip, blink her eyes to keep from crying, squeeze the fabric of the sheets tighter between her fingers. “I have to go back to my apartment and sort out my life.”

I took a breath of air and another cautious step toward her. I had never felt so cramped in my own room. I wanted to get rid of that feeling because I knew that the moment Lia left, I would miss her presence, how her voice and smiles had filled that space where there had almost always been a silence broken only by my voice once in a while, when I took a phone call while already in bed or when one of the boys made too much noise in the morning and I had to yell at them to be more considerate. I couldn’t. That day, that morning, my room was a prison from which both Lia and I were trying to escape.

“Not a good idea,” I repeated.

Lia turned her head toward me again, trying to understand my words.

“At this point in my life, nothing seems like a good idea, but at least being alone I’ll make sure I don’t get into trouble because I fucked my best friend.”

“Don’t talk like that. I don’t like it, Lia.” This time, my tone was coarser. I wasn’t going to have Lia’s behavior if she continued that way.

“And what do I call it? You want me to sugarcoat it? You want me to refer to our ‘mistake’ as making love? This is fucking bullshit, Noah! I’m out of one hellhole to jump straight back into another. This is the last thing I needed!”

Her attitude and thoughtlessness got the better of me. We had fucked up, but we hadn’t set foot in hell because we had enjoyed each other’s bodies. She was wrong, and the impossibility of changing her mind made me snap.

“Maybe it was just what you needed.”

Lia stood still. She let go of the sheets and looked at me with wide eyes, swallowing back tears and forcing down the lump in her throat and the discomfort in her stomach. I couldn’t decipher what her eyes were saying at that moment, but I could get an idea.

It took her a few moments to speak again.

“You sound just like Mitch.”

I slumped, dejected. I had entered quicksand and all I had left to do was beg. Lia was a glass castle and she was full of cracks. My last touch had fragmented her even more.

“I didn’t mean to. Please, I beg you, don’t go. We’ll find a way to work it out. Let me take care of you.”

“You don’t understand,” she exasperated, standing up and approaching me without getting into an area that would put us in an awkward situation. Looking into each other’s eyes was a battle of endurance not to give up and burst into tears in each other’s arms, as we had done so many other times during our relationship, with all the shit we had both had to swallow. Lia’s voice was full of anguish, despair. It was broken. “Our friendship was the most important thing to me. It was my anchor. I didn’t want to jeopardize it in any way, and I did. I did it last night. I did it because I’m a fucking mess. I’m sorry, Noah, but if I stay I’m going to make not only our situation worse, but everyone else’s. I’m a ticking time-bomb.”

“You’re not a ticking time-bomb, Lia. We all have problems, and sometimes life sucks. It’s true. We can’t be perfect either, and even if we’ve screwed up, we still have each other. I’m still the same person I was yesterday, Lia. You can trust me.”

At that point I didn’t give a damn about what had happened, and what having sex with Lia had awakened in me, the desperation, the need to have her like that in my bed every night, to fall asleep with her in my arms. I would do anything just to keep her from leaving.

“No... It’s not about trust. It’s about me, Noah. I’m in fucking trouble. And I’m gonna put you back in the same position and...”

And we could get carried away again, and maybe that next time it would happen in my bed. Maybe in the shower, or in the kitchen.

“I’m capable of destroying everything around me.”

I knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t just about our friendship; there was also the band. We worked together, and the band was everything to us. We couldn’t put it in harm’s way because of a romantic relationship that might not work out. Lia had never had any stability in her life other than my friendship, and now that had failed her, too.

My throat was dry. I wasn’t going to win that game. I knew Lia well enough to know when her walls were stronger and higher than I what I could climb up.

“Can you...? I need to be alone, take a shower and... I don’t know. Give this whole thing more thought.”

Suddenly, her tone was cold, devoid of emotion other than exhaustion.

I found myself nodding and flinching. As I walked out of the room, I felt the weight of Lia’s eyes on me. I closed the door. I waited. When Lia’s inconsolable crying reached my ears, I let my back drag against the wall and sank my head between my knees, letting my own tears of rage and pain escape.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fic #koi no yokan #noah sebastian x ofc #2 #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens cult

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themirokai · 5 months

Text

I'm posting the stories of my Mystrade spy series, His Professional Capacity, to tumblr in anticipation of posting the first new installment in three years.

The first three installments are here, here, and here.

But this is the one you actually need to read before the new one, because this is where I introduce my OCs.

When I was writing Spy Wedding (which isn't part of the series, but you may enjoy) I had this idea that Mycroft would have a soft spot for younger people who are brilliant but troubled, and when you took away all of the emotional family baggage with Sherlock, that could lead to some quite nice relationships. So, in this universe, Mycroft has work kids. One of them, who is introduced here and will be returning in the new story, ended up being incredibly popular with my readers. I hope you enjoy:

Protégé

Mycroft and Greg's date gets interrupted. Greg encounters one of Mycroft's protégés.

Tags: Action/Adventure, Assassins, Spies, Mycroft's job, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft is a softie, Inappropriate flirting

~3,695 words, minor tweaks from the version on AO3.

Note: This takes place about 6 months after The Dangerous Parts and refers to events from that story, but that's not required reading. You just need to know that Mycroft is still recovering from a broken femur here.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Mycroft had decided that Greg in summer was one of his favorite things to look at. The light dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the strong forearms. The healthy glow of his skin, the way he held his highball glass, licked his fingers after he squeezed the lime wedge into his gin and tonic.

Mycroft was enjoying the view at a small restaurant where he and Greg had placed their dinner orders. Their opportunities to go out to eat since Mycroft’s “car accident” nearly 6 months ago had been severely limited. First there was Mycroft’s reluctance to navigate any space besides his home and the office when he was still in the full leg cast, and then the brace, combined with the onslaught of issues to catch up on when he was back to work full time. But now he was walking fairly steadily with just a cane, the pain was tolerable compared to what it had been, and he and Anthea had managed to keep this evening and the upcoming weekend free.

Greg finished describing a goal he had scored at the match his recreational football team had played the previous evening. Mycroft had encouraged him to return to the team several months ago, after Greg had given up the flat that he hadn’t been to in months and officially moved in with Mycroft. The exercise, the time spent with friendly acquaintances, the fresh air, and - most importantly - something out of the house that was just his, were all clearly good for Greg. “It sounds very exciting,” Mycroft replied to the story, “perhaps I shall come watch...” he trailed off.

“Aw, it’s not really fit for spectators, darling, besides if you were there I’d spend all my time looking at you instead of playing.”

But Mycroft’s attention had been taken by his driver entering the restaurant. Oh no. Greg must have observed his changed expression because he turned to follow Mycroft’s gaze.

“Is that Lucy?” he asked. As Mycroft watched, the driver turned to look over her shoulder, and her jacket moved to give a glimpse of the gun from the car’s hidden compartment tucked into her waistband. Oh, this was bad. “Gregory,” he said quietly, “we may not be able to have dinner after all. … What is it, Simmons?” Mycroft asked, keeping his voice calm as the driver approached.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve got to go,” Simmons replied. “Romer and Vaden clocked a couple suspicious blokes as you were coming in here and when they ran facial recognition it turns out they’re affiliated with-” her eyes slid sideways to Greg and she cleared her throat, “people who are not fans of yours, sir. Romer and Vaden went after them but lost them. Backup’s coming but we need to get you out of the open.”

Mycroft grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gregory.”

Greg was already on his feet and reaching for Mycroft. “None of that. Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Office, I’m afraid,” Simmons said as Mycroft gathered the cane and let Greg help him to his feet. “A team will have to fully secure the house before you go back to it. Right now the top priority is getting you to safety, bringing those two in, and making sure they didn’t have more friends.”

Mycroft winced a bit with his first step and kept hold of Greg’s arm as they moved off between the tables.

“Got an extra gun, Lucy?” Greg asked Simmons quietly. “I’m not carrying.”

“In the car,” she replied. “Under the back seat. Mr. Holmes can show you.”

Greg positioned himself so that Mycroft was between him and Simmons as they reached the door.

“Gregory,” Mycroft said, “you are the civilian in this situation, you don’t -“

Greg shook his head. “‘M not a civilian, darling, I’m an officer of the law and you’ve got a bum leg. Stay between me ‘n Lucy, alright?”

“The car’s just at the kerb, sir. You and Lestrade get straight in while I go to the front.”

Mycroft took a breath and nodded. Simmons paused, looking around through the glass of the door, then pushed it open.

Just as they stepped onto the pavement two figures came tumbling out of an alley ten feet away, struggling with each other. Mycroft caught a glimpse of a young face framed by shaggy brown hair and his heart sank. Romer.

Simmons cursed and grabbed Mycroft’s arm, putting herself between him and the men. The unexpected motion made Mycroft stumble and he grabbed for Greg, who caught him easily.

BANG!

Oh god! “Romer!”

BANG! BANG!

Greg was shoving him bodily into the car, his previously injured thigh slamming painfully onto the seat and making him see stars. Then Greg was diving in after him and Simmons was in the front, peeling out with a screech of rubber.

“Romer!” Mycroft gasped, “Is Romer alright? Was he shot?”

Greg was opening Mycroft’s jacket, running his hands over the waistcoat and his arms. “Are you alright, Myc? The fucker was shooting at you!”

“I’m - I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.” Greg continued feeling him all over. “Gregory,” he snapped. “I was not injured. I’m fine.”

Greg finally sat back, only to be knocked back onto Mycroft as Simmons took a sharp turn. They both righted themselves and put their seatbelts on.

“Simmons, are you alright?”

“Fine, sir!”

“Are you on coms? Can you hear Romer?”

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure what’s going on though. I think he’s fighting.”

“Give me your earpiece, Simmons.”

“Mycroft, let her drive,” Greg put in.

“Simmons,” Mycroft said, ignoring his partner, “your earpiece. Now.”

Without taking her eyes off the road Simmons ripped the com link out of her ear and tossed it in the back seat. Mycroft quickly wiped it on his pants then put it in his ear. He immediately heard panting breaths. “Romer … Peter, are you alright?”

“M-Mr. Holmes?” The thick Scottish accent was a balm to Mycroft’s soul. “Sir? That you? Ya weren’t shot were ya? I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes, he never shoulda got that close.”

“It’s me, Peter, I’m fine, he missed. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

The young man laughed and raised his voice. “Ya hear that you cocksucking motherfucking wanker?! Ya missed him ya mafia piece of shite!! Yeah what’re your Cossack big brother bosses gonna say to that ya fucker? Oh wait, you’ll never know cos you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a British prison. Oi!” A sharp intake of breath.

“Peter!” Mycroft cried.

“S-sorry, sir. Bit of … bit of a knife fight going on here. Aaarrgh. I- uh- I may need some stitches, sir.”

Before Mycroft could reply a female voice cut in. “This is Ahmad. I’m one minute out from Romer’s position. I have backup.”

Oh thank god. Mycroft kept his voice sharp. “I want to see you both in my office, in one piece, tonight. That is an order. Am I understood?” Both agents gave affirmative answers and Mycroft knew better than to listen to the subsequent fight. “Holmes out.” He removed the earpiece and handed it back to Simmons, then collapsed back into the seat, closing his eyes.

Romer was injured. He’s a field agent, these things happen. Romer was injured protecting me. He was apprehending a foreign national who had committed assault and attempted murder. He was only in this situation because I recruited him. If I hadn’t recruited him he would probably be dead of an overdose by now or, best case, still living on the streets of Edinburgh. He volunteered for my security detail. … Ahmad is in jeopardy now too. Ahmad said she had backup. They are both skilled agents and together they can easily take down one thug, especially with backup. If it is just one thug. They have backup.

The car stopped and Mycroft opened his eyes to see that they were in the underground parking structure of his office. Greg gave his hand a quick squeeze, then got out and came around to help him out of the car. Simmons was standing by the open driver side door.

“Good work today and good driving, Simmons.” Mycroft squeezed her shoulder.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll coordinate with the team securing the house and let Anthea know when it’s alright to leave.”

“Thank you, Simmons.”

Mycroft took Greg’s arm and proceeded into the building. “Damnit,” he muttered as they got onto the lift.

“What is it?” Greg asked.

“I didn't get a status on Vaden. I was so distracted by Romer.” Mycroft shook his head at himself in disgust. “I shouldn't have favorites,” he chided.

“To be fair, the one you see grappling with a bad guy with a gun is pretty distracting,” Greg reasoned. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get a full update once we’re upstairs.”

And in fact Anthea was waiting as soon as they exited the elevator. Though she was wearing a normal professional dress and blazer, her hair was up and she was wearing glasses, not contact lenses. Clearly she had gone home shortly after he had left for the day, only to be called back. Her gaze swept over him quickly and a flicker of relief showed on her face.

“Sir. Glad you’re alright.”

“Thank you, Anthea. Bring me up to speed please.”

“Vaden and the team that went to back him up have already brought their target in. Romer, Ahmad, and their team should be back shortly with their target. Romer is injured. Ahmad thinks the doctor can handle it so I’ve asked the doctor to report here. A team is at your house now, securing it, but the preference is for you to stay here at least until we have a better sense whether the two that were caught were the only ones. Parnell is running point on that operation and will cover interrogating the targets. We’ll also need to reassign someone to cover Romer’s spot on your detail. Vaden should be fine to stick with you.”

Mycroft felt his grip on Greg’s arm and the cane tighten as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He sighed. “Alright. It was the Solntsevskaya Bratva?”

Anthea glanced at Greg.

“His clearance is high enough now,” Mycroft said.

“It is?” Greg’s voice lifted in surprise.

“I had your clearance raised when you moved in with me,” Mycroft explained. “In the event something like this happened.”

“We believe it’s Solntsevskaya, sir,” Anthea said. “Both the assassins are affiliated with them.”

Mycroft nodded. “You’ll keep me apprised of any updates, of course, and send Romer and Ahmad in as soon as they get here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mycroft and Greg entered the large, beautifully appointed office and Greg shut the door behind him. “You’re shaking, love.”

Mycroft steered them over to the couch. “I’m tired. My leg hurts. And I know if Ahmad didn’t think Romer needed the hospital then he’ll be fine, but -” Mycroft grunted as he lowered himself down to the couch and started trying to massage away the pain in his thigh, “I just worry about him. He’s barely more than a child, Gregory.”

“Can I get you a drink?” Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded. “Please.”

Greg headed over to the drinks cart. “Romer is one of your proteges?”

“I recruited him. Off the street, no less.”

Greg returned with two tumblers of Scotch, handed one to Mycroft and sat beside him. “How did that happen?”

“Thank you.” Mycroft took a sip. “When he was sixteen Peter’s parents turned him out of their home upon finding him in the arms of another boy. He ended up living rough in Edinburgh, mostly picking pockets and shoplifting to survive. About five years ago, two of my field agents were conducting an operation there, when they realized this homeless teenager kept showing up everywhere they were. Thinking he was working for the other side, they pulled him in but it turned out that he just noticed them following someone so he decided to follow them. This half-starved, occasionally stoned, untrained boy was managing to tail experienced agents. When I arrived at the conclusion of the operation, they brought him to meet me, and I could see he was special. I arranged for him to finish secondary school and go to university. He completed university in two years and came to work here.”

“You care about him,” Greg said quietly.

Mycroft nodded, taking another sip of Scotch. “Peter’s instinct for the work is incredible and he’s blazingly brilliant. He needs more training and we’re working on self-discipline, but he will be an invaluable agent some day.” He sighed. “And yes, I care about him. Very much.”

Greg moved a little closer and placed his hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck, starting to massage the tense muscles. Mycroft sighed and leaned into the touch. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask a question about… this evening?”

Mycroft chuckled without humor. “After I’ve put your life in danger and am keeping you from your home? Yes, I’d say you deserve some answers, Gregory.”

Greg frowned. “You didn’t put my life in danger, darling. Those assassins did.”

“You easily could have caught a stray bullet when I was being shot at. And now that you live with me and are seen in the open with me, there’s the possibility that someone will think to use you to get to me.”

Greg took Mycroft’s hand in both of his own and gently kissed each finger. “I’ve known that was a possibility since our third date, darling. I don’t care. You’ve got a dangerous job. I’ve got a dangerous job. Life is short and could be even shorter for both of us. I love you. I want to be with you. Even if that means dodging bullets now and again.”

Mycroft caressed Greg’s cheek then leaned in to kiss him. The scotch on their breath mingled together with the scents of their colognes. When the kiss ended Mycroft rested his forehead against Greg’s. “I love you so much, Gregory.”

“More than words can say, darling.” Greg planted a light kiss on Mycroft’s lips and sat back with a chuckle. “I still get a kick out of you referring to the house as my home.”

“It is your home, my love. As long as you’re willing to occasionally be kept from it by a security team sweeping it for hidden assassins.”

“The smallest of prices to pay.” Greg sipped his drink. “Who did you say it was? Solo Sky Bravo something?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Solntsevskaya Bratva. A part of the Russian mafia.”

“Is my clearance now high enough to ask why Sol… part of the Russian mafia is trying to kill you?”

Mycroft was torn, briefly, between an innate impulse for modesty and the desire for Greg to have a clear view of the danger. “Some years ago I was responsible for shutting down their operation in the UK.” Mycroft leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes. “Destroyed rather a lot of their infrastructure.” A small smirk crossed his lips with the memory. “That they are sending people after me now may be because they want revenge, but it is more likely that they see me as an obstacle to rebuilding here.”

Anthea’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Holmes, Ahmad and Romer are here, as is the doctor. May I send them in?”

Mycroft pushed the button beside him to respond. “Yes, Anthea, thank you.” He gathered the cane and used it to push himself to his feet with a grimace.

The door opened and Ahmad and Romer staggered in, Romer’s arm over Ahmad’s shoulders and Ahmad’s arm wrapped around Romer’s back. Mycroft started forward, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Peter.”

Romer squinted at him through one eye, the other swollen shut. “Sir? You’re really alright? He really missed you?”

Mycroft crossed the rest of the way to them and cupped the back of Romer’s head. “I’m fine, Peter. He could hardly get a clean shot with you on top of him. You weren’t so lucky, my boy.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. Doctor’ll stitch me up in no time. Nothing to worry about. And he looks much worse.” Romer looked up at Mycroft, his good eye shining with earnest intensity as the words tumbled out of him in a rush. “Sir, I’m so sorry! My first week back on your detail and I let him get that close. It never should have happened, sir! We shouldn’t have lost them! Especially when you’re still recovering from-”

“Peter,” Mycroft cut him off quickly, “that’s enough. You and Vaden did everything right. You identified the threat, you gave me ample warning, I got to safety without being injured, and you brought the targets in. I’m only unhappy that you were injured in the process.”

Romer looked down, a blush starting to show around the bruising on his face. “I’ll be alright, sir.”

Mycroft turned to the woman still supporting Romer. “Ahmad? Were you hurt?”

“Nah, sir. I came in armed, unlike this idiot.”

“He got my gun away from me!” Romer protested. “I got his away from him too, and I still had my knives!”

Mycroft stepped back and gestured to the doctor waiting in the doorway. “Let’s get you seen to, Romer.”

Ahmad transferred Romer’s weight to the doctor and stepped back. “Sir, I believe Parnell is going to start the interrogations soon. Alright for me to join him?”

“Yes, Ahmad, thank you. Please tell Parnell that I will speak to both of our guests in the morning and I would like them in a condition that they will be able to hear and understand what I have to say.”

Ahmad smirked. “Yes, sir.” She drew herself to attention for a moment and gave him a curt nod, then left.

Mycroft stepped out of the way for the doctor to help Romer to the couch. As he moved, Romer was able to see Greg for the first time since entering. The young agent’s face immediately brightened. “Ah, Silver Fox is here! Hullo, Silver Fox!”

Greg gave a good natured chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Romer, instead of seeing you out the window or across the street.”

Romer squeezed his eyes shut and groaned a little as the doctor helped him lower himself onto the couch. “You’re even better looking up close than you are through a lens, Silver Fox,” he said breathily.

“Romer.” The warning in Mycroft’s voice was tempered by the smile he was barely managing to conceal.

“Sir, it’s not my fault you’ve taken up with someone this gorgeous.” Romer grinned.

“Remove your shirt, Mr. Romer, let’s look at that slice you’ve got,” the doctor instructed.

“Oh, gladly,” Romer flashed a wink at Greg. When the bloody shirt was removed, Romer was revealed to have a three inch cut across his pec, as well as a deep gash in his left side.

“I’ll just bandage the one on your chest, but we’ll do a local anesthetic and stitches in your side,” the doctor said.

“Can I have a nip of that whiskey while you’re working, doc?”

The doctor nodded, and Mycroft, who was about to sit in an armchair across from Romer, started to turn.

“Sit, love,” Greg ordered, heading to the drinks cart. “I’ve got it.”

“Romer, you were favoring your right leg too,” Mycroft observed, as he pulled out his mobile and started reading a message from Parnell “are you cut there as well?”

“No, sir. He got a kick in at my kneecap. Just bruised is all.”

Greg brought Romer a tumbler of scotch, and the young man made sure to touch his hand when taking it. “Thank you very much, Silver Fox,” Romer purred.

Greg gave him a patient smile. “You’re welcome, and you’re not my type.”

“Well, I’m not exactly looking my finest now am I? But once I get cleaned up…”

Greg shook his head. “You’re too young for me, kid.”

“Doesn’t bother me. Didn’t Mr. Holmes tell you I have daddy issues?”

“Not interested,” Greg said with a glance at Mycroft, who was typing something on his mobile. “And taken.”

Romer hummed. “He’s not interested either,” he said with a nod at Mycroft. “Never has been, more’s the pity for me. But he’s very interested in you, and now I fully see why.”

“Romer, that’s enough,” Mycroft cut in as he pocketed his mobile again. “Stop flirting with my partner or you will find yourself with a permanent posting to Beijing.”

“Aw, sir, you know my Mandarin’s crap.”

“I do know that, Romer. I suspect that after a few years we shall see your skill much improved.”

While Romer kept up a stream of cheeky banter through being stitched and bandaged, he did lay off of Greg and even addressed him as “Inspector.” When the doctor was done, Anthea brought Romer a clean, unripped shirt and the young man gingerly put it on.

“Alright Romer, go home. Rest,” Mycroft instructed.

“Sir, I was just going to nip downstairs and watch Parnell.”

“Absolutely not. Go home and sleep, Romer.”

“Aw, but sir-“

“You are lucky that I’m not putting you at an analyst’s desk for the next month.” Mycroft’s tone brooked no argument. “If you do as you’re told tonight, you may observe my interviews with our guests tomorrow morning.”

Romer’s face lit up. “In the room, sir?”

“No, over the feed.”

Romer shrugged. “Still a Holmes interrogation. Brilliant.”

Anthea entered at that point and Mycroft turned his attention to her. Romer took a few steps towards Greg. “Oi, Silver Fox.”

Greg raised an eyebrow at him.

“Listen, we’ve got eyes all over the outside of the house but… keep a gun in the bedroom at night, yeah? Just in case? Mr. Holmes may already have one, but I can’t ask him.” Concern shone through every bit of Romer’s bruised face.

Greg patted his shoulder. “Yeah kid, I’ve got it. Go get some rest. He’ll know in the morning if you haven’t.”

Romer’s cheeky grin returned. “Yeah, right. Nice to properly meet ya, Silver Fox.”

“You too, kid.”

“Romer,” Mycroft called, “what did I say about flirting?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

~*~

Thank you so much for reading! The last part (so far) of the series is up on tumblr now. It’s a direct follow up to this story, featuring Romer.

#his professional capacity #mystrade #mirokai writes #bbc sherlock

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castiel-barnes · 1 year

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Rest.

Pairing: Din Djarin × Jedi! Reader

Summary: You and Din take a rest from all the destruction and chaos of being hunted by bounty hunters.

Warnings: Nothing but softness. A few mentions of scars. Helmetless Din.

Wordcount: 729

Previous chapter || Masterlist

A/N: Again I know I've not been posting, just please be patient.

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell @prideandpascal @wanderrghost @ginger-swag-rapunzel @farfromjustordinary

Din had finally managed to fix the engine and the heater to the Razor Crest. The three of you had been freezing for the night, and you were glad to be on the move again.

He was exhausted. And for the first time you could actually see it on his face. Not just in his body language.

As he walked back into the Crest to start it moving, you walked over to your big tough Mandalorian.

"Din. Why don't you try get some sleep?" You asked him softly,

"Cyar'ika I need to get us out of here, if we stay any longer..." He responded before you cut him off.

"Oh my handsome man, I am extremely capable of being able to fly this by myself." You told him cupping his cheek as they blushed bright red,

What you didn't expect was for Din to bury his head into your shoulder and pull you close to him.

"I just don't want to fall asleep without you." Came a muffled voice from your shoulder.

Something inside of you just warmed up. He was being vulnerable with you. You gently ran your fingers through his flattened curly hair and just stood there for a moment.

"Why don't you have a shower, and I'll get us into hyperspace then we'll cuddle okay?" You suggested.

There was a slight pause and you felt a nod from him. You smiled and kissed his cheek gently, sometimes you wondered how Din wore his helmet and how he hid his feelings for a long time.

You lifted the crest up off the planet, making sure to avoid any more damage and plotted a course for hopefully a quiet planet. Din didn't have a long shower, and returned to the bed sitting waiting for you.

Walking over to him, you stood Infront of him and stripped down the layers. He pulled you towards him and sat you down in his lap, his fingers dancing across the scars that scattered your body.

"We should rest Din." You suggested trying to avoid the thoughts of your scars,

"Okay." Din pulled you against his chest and laid down.

"Cyare. Your scars are beautiful. You are beautiful." Din whispered obviously sensing your discomfort,

"I don't know what beauty you see in them." You mumbled holding his hand still.

"They are stories of survival. Of your survival mesh'la. You are strong and beautiful, and the scars are apart of that. Even if you don't think so, I love them and I love you." Din explained kissing you gently, feeling his curls brush against you.

You closed your eyes, and felt the calm. This was one space that you felt safe. With Din. Relaxing against him, you let him run over the scars.

"I love you too Din." You whispered just enough for the two of you to hear. The scars on your arms and body were ones you didn't worry about much, but it was the one that blinded you in your eye that you struggled at the thought of.

Quickly falling asleep in the arms of your Mandalorian, you both rested peacefully for a while. Grogu was still wrapped up nice and warm. And you all made it off that damn ice planet intact. Something made you jump awake, wasn't sure if it was a dream or a general disturbance. But looking up at Din, you stared and appreciated how handsome he is.

"I can feel you staring cy'are." Din mumbled,

"Sorry." You responded a deep blush reddening your cheeks.

"Don't be, I'm happy you get to look at me without the helmet." Din spoke his voice still laced with sleep.

"If we ever get these bounties off us. Where do you want to go?" You asked quietly,

There was a moment of quiet, and to be honest you had thought Din had fallen asleep again.

"I want to go to a planet, one with a forest and a nice little cabin. And only taking jobs that are easy, that don't require being gone days at a time. What about you?" Din explained giving you a squeeze,

"I think that sounds nice." Was all you responded.

You wanted a nice home. Somewhere that you didn't have to keep moving spots all of the time. Somewhere to call home. Somewhere to rest. Possibly rest with Din.

Finally. You both fell back to sleep. The presence of each other. The comfort of Din not being clad in full armour.

#writing #star wars #mandalorian x jedi reader #the mandalorian

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hivernal-stims · 6 months

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bit of a weird question, but why do you tag posts with hands "cw hands"? this question is weird because it does actually come in handy (no pun intended) for me because of my mirror touch but i don't think that's a very common thing so ive just assumed there's a different reason

(you're the first person in the tags #stim #cw hands sorted by newest in case you're wondering why im sending this to you specifically)

It's a great question! And the answer's kinda silly: when I ran a previous stim blog like, almost a decade ago, someone asked me to content warn for hands. I didn't ask why, I just started doing it.

Honestly, I want my blog to be as accessible as possible, but I don't know what the most useful content warnings are all the time. I don't know if I've got the right sense of what needs a trypophobia cw or how clearly a liquid being poured needs to be alcohol to get an alcohol cw (or if anyone even cares about that who's following me). But I've decided to err on the side of caution in most cases.

And like. Mirror touch seems like a wholly valid reason to want that content warning tag on posts. I'm not synesthetic myself, but I can imagine that being a distracting thing, especially with regard to slime poking or other messy-hand stims (fun fact, the texture of many slimes is a squick IRL for me). I'm thinking back on some of the candy-making gifsets in particular that would be funky with that.

If there's anything anyone needs me to tag more thoroughly, please ask! I want to ensure this space is accommodating to as many as possible. If I fail to tag, it's never out of spite or malice. It's just me and my ADHD.

Whuff, wall of text there, sorry!

#ask hivernal #not stim

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panicatthediaz · 2 years

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These three parts make for a nice chapter, I think, so they have been posted to AO3! Future chapters will probably be longer. Here we are on part 3. As promised, season 4 events. Have fun! [Part 1] – [Part 2] – [Part 4]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]

Pin a String to My Chest – 3

The spring break from hell

Of course, none of this was what Eddie had expected to happen. He'd known, on some level, that things weren't okay with Chrissy, but he didn't think he would ever see someone murdered by a freaky, evil mind-controlling wizard from another dimension.

Not that he had known that was the case that Friday.

That night, the only thing he'd known was that she died an impossible death in the middle of the Munson living room.

He panicked.

And he ran.

Eddie really hoped, after he managed to catch his breath at Rick's boathouse, that his uncle could forgive him for running.

Then he was found. Dustin, his own little sheep, and Buckley, band nerd. Max, his new neighbor. King Steve Harrington himself.

And even though their explanation was absolutely insane, it… it helped that they believed him. His only hope became seeing his uncle at all, forgiveness or not, no matter what the old man thought.

Nancy said, a while later, that he believed in him. That he'd been the first to deny that Eddie could have done any of it.

The relief he felt was huge, but it was tainted by the second impossible death he had to witness.

With Jason right there, the city's golden boy who'd never do wrong, who the fuck else would believe in him?

Then there was a whole parallel dimension that might as well have been hell, flesh-eating bats, visions of the villain's origin story and said hell bleeding into their world with a vengeance, and finally a plan that could just get them all killed.

Sure, why not? These people are absolutely insane, but fuck, he could really come to care about them. Even Harrington, which at any previous point of his life would've seemed extremely unlikely.

But, well, he wouldn't begrudge someone's character development.

Maybe he could do something different himself. Something… better. His job — and Dustin's — was to distract the bats, lure them away from the Creel house long enough for the Vecna Slaying Team to kill him, then get out of the Upside Down.

He would do his very best, he'd decided. He'd do it well, loud, and in style.

Master of Puppets was an easy decision.

Just as easy as sending Dustin back through the gate and turning back around.

If he was going to run one more time, might as well do it in the opposite direction; keep the bats away from the gate and from Dustin.

Draw attention to himself then run with it. Literally.

It didn't work every time. It didn't work back in his first senior year, when Hagan was dumped by Steve, and it certainly wasn't working now.

Never handled crowds that well, he thought a little hysterically when the bats dropped dead all at once, as if feeling overwhelmed in a tiny space full of people could be compared to being eaten alive and bleeding out.

He didn't have room for much thought after that, the pain too all-consuming to focus on much of anything else.

At least… At least Dustin would be safe. He'd look after Hellfire, the kid was passionate enough.

Never change, Dustin Henderson.

But… he would, wouldn't he? This wasn't—

The kid wasn't supposed to come back. He wasn't supposed to see him die.

I love you, man.

But at least, there was some truth in all the bullshit he'd just said.

#asexual Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson fic #ace!Eddie Munson #asexuality #Steve Harrington #Dustin Henderson #wereswriting

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sirquestingbeast · 1 year

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Kingdom Hearts (Homestuck) Classpecting Part 2; And Another Thing

Link to the first part:

https://www.tumblr.com/sirquestingbeast/730023827295354880/kingdom-hearts-characters-homestuck-classpect?source=share

Welcome back to another episode of undersleeping and overthinking. In the first episode, we released a brainless torrent of classpects and the foundation of how they were chosen. Kinda. There are definitely some in there had too little to properly classpect and others...IDK man I simply cannot enter the headspace needed to dissect every line of Xaldin/Dillan or Luxord's dialogue for multiple interpretations that could lead to a more comprehensive psyche profile. Sigurd: Knight of Light I don't actually have a lot to say about this guy, I just ran out of tag space in the previous post lmao. Knights have this thing about vulnerability which is usually on visual or thematic display; shrouded faces, long sleeves, sunglasses and whatnot. They also tend to start pretty proficient in wielding their aspect. They are also more than happy to use their aspect to serve another or a greater cause. Seeing how he was introduced in KHUX, it is easy to see that for now, Sigurd is our Lore Guide...and maybe actually Luxord just saying. Master of Masters: Muse of Time Excluding all theories and just using what we know, he's giving void because it's surprisingly so little despite his impact. I think that could also be chalked up by being a Muse class; while this doesn't mean anything because typology wise master classes don't say anything about a person, considering his background and story that is kind of the point. He became Master of Masters - or the muse (master) class - because of events in his life. I think that in itself is just time player shenanigans. Time players have really strong and stonelike keywords that make them feel more tightly bound to their aspect in rigid ways than most. Master of Masters was definitely some other class and maybe aspect before, but gave that up-and maybe even who he is as a person- for his current objective. Hayner: Thief of Void Hey man check out this little dude. He doesn't get as much credit as he should for the ability to 1. Go with the flow when it comes to the insane bullshit Kingdom Hearts sometimes brings but from the perspective of someone 97% uninvolved and 2. Throw down with someone clearly out of his weight class. He is iconic and therefore thief. And no, he isn't void because he is irrelevant; his relationship with information-an aspect of light- does give a push and pull quality to him. But where a thief of light would increasingly pull more and more information until they achieve a relevancy in themselves, a void would literally take the information as it comes to them and work within their limited relevancy. Sterlitzia: Rogue of Rage: Rage gets a lot of bad rep for just being full of negative keywords; strife, struggle, tension, madness, and literally negative emotions and whatnot, but remember aspects are not bound to their most obvious connotations. Pining is a kind of struggle, and what is puppy love if not a certain kind of madness? All jokes aside, rogues feel like the type of class that takes the keywords of their aspect, reduce them to their most beneficial forms, and distributes them with the intentions of gaining a net positive. But I also believe rogues often tend to have a lot of eyes on them much like the thief, but usually with consequences. KHUX Player Character: Bard of Hope Hate to say this but player character's post KHUX story is hitting a bit too far home with Gamzee's. I know MY dear player character would never become a destiny fanatic, so they have me fucked up, but the fact that there is an arc that we don't see that leads player down this stalwart path hints to this being some sort of bard awakening. But whereas Gamzee what disillusioned by the idea of destiny and prophecy, player character literally gained a new life in it.

Ephemer: Witch of Breath Witches are a class that likes to operate outside the grid and think outside the box. They aren't often held down by conventional thinking and circumstances, so they are the best when it comes to utilizing the amount of control their class gives to them, but in a very specialized self-serving way. Ephemer isn't necessarily what we would normally see as good friend material; first he stands you up, then he hits up your dreams to ask you to bail him out of reality jail. I could really see him being a hope or breath aspect, but to me he leans more breath as conceptualizing him as a hope player also tends to spill into aspects of blood, but as a breath player, everything is still within the realm of breath and it's mirror aspect. Speaking of hope... Baldr: Maid of Hope Maid characters are thought to serve their power and are also a pun on the word "made", meaning that they are their powers. An aspect of both rage and hope is establishing a belief system that is healthy for you based on external forces; where rage often deeply understands these external forces, sees their critical weaknesses, and tries to rise above them, hope tends to start as naive to them and are challenged to find their own truth with what they have. Baldr's knowledge about the nature of hearts, light, and darkness was lacking and flawed. The things that are internally his hope took on these flaws, so he had to create an external ideal of the hope in his sister, only for that to be taken from him leaving him to rely on the hope he internalized. And why not just not give in to that power? Because he is a maid of it; that is who he is as a person. Take care of your hope players, y'all, as they can get really scary when misguided... Brain: Seer of Mind Seers are a fun class where they know their aspect and want to master it at the risk of some sort of peril; sometimes from their aspect or the mirror of their aspect, and sometimes just because of their own tunnel vision. They are one of the more explicitly characterized classes so you know one when you see them; a know-it-all and maybe even a little bit arrogant who isn't afraid to get unethical or harm themselves to reach a goal. While Brain has mostly been shown in a positive note, I can't help but feel with the information given to us at the end of KHUX, knowing he is involved in Missing Link, and knowing it is set before Dark Road sets things up for an equally dark path. Brain feels to me as strong of a blood player as his potential as a mind player. Ultimately I believe the difference is whether or not you consider whatever the events he is involved in are the appropriate path for him or not. Am I going to clarify which is which and what is my stance? No, because if I don't I cant be wrong, silly. Eraqus: Knight of Mind This guy was a little tricky for me to type at first, but ultimately I figured him out before Brain and it just may be a bit of a coincidence that they fall in the same aspect...maybe. Mind and heart both are aspects that involve the concept of making choices for people; mind from an ideological standpoint and one from a personalized standpoint. Mind is more about concepts like karma, justice, actions and their consequences, and moral choices. First instinct would tell you that Eraqus did a terrible job at all that, and as a knight, that should be his thing, right? But like Baldr, he was operating out of a system lacking critical information and perhaps was even fed misleading information. However, as a Knight, he still devoted himself to the service of what he knew. The knight of mind is a very dangerous classpect to have so much going wrong like things were in Dark Road, and that culminated to the events of Birth By Sleep. Also knight of mind is a jedi and he is voiced by mark hamill. jk but it is still funny. Tune in next time where we cover more bbs characters and probably some more tragedies alongside them. Ciao for nao~

#kingdom hearts #khux #kh dark road #eraqus #kh brain #kh strelitzia #kh ephemer #khux player #kh sigurd #kh baldr #hayner #master of masters #kh mom

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