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beananacake · 3 years

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Savior (Part 8)

Ikaris x Reader

Summary: Ikaris has felt a hum for millennia and he's never questioned it, until he found the source.

Chapter Summary: The Eternals learn of your past and you return to someone you haven't seen in a while.

Word Count: 5.6k words

Warnings: ANOTHER DARK CHAPTER, mentions of r*pe and ab*se and k*llings and d*ath (nothing too explicit but DNI if you get triggered easily), mentions of religion, angst for a lot of it, usage of the words fuck and shit, AGAIN this is a DARK CHAPTER

A/N: Hey! Not really sure if you guys are reading this lol! Anyway, for that teensy tiny bit about religion, it is painted in a bad light (in a way). If you don't like it, you're free to close this story. As for this being a dark chapter, it's like a bit of a recap of part 6. Bit of a repetition but it must be said. As for Jack... well, hang tight. I hope you guys stay with me to the end of the fic! It's only gonna get more hurtful after this ;) Thank you for all of the feedback! I won't mind some of your thoughts and comments and suggestions (and reviews and reblogs and asks)! Not beta'd as per uzhe, so any mistakes are purely mine. I'm sorry if I made you guys cry and frustrated. Here's part 8!

Masterlist

“Y/N is… not pure.” Druig started.

The rest of the Eternals sat around the table, in front of the firelight. Some of Druig’s acolytes had come back even if they were free from their mind control and had given them food to eat after their tiresome battle. Everyone was quiet, and so was the forest. Ikaris hated the silence. Even your powers were a very low hum, almost undiscernible to him. He still felt it but it was more like the murmur of the wind than the buzz of your light.

“What do you mean not pure? Aren’t angels pure?” Sprite asked.

Druig took a long swig of his drink. Ikaris never wanted to throttle someone so dramatic. You were fighting for your life while Druig was taking his time to tell what he knew of you.

“I hold Y/N with the utmost respect,” Druig started. “I am only telling all of you about her because we are concerned for her.”

Several heads nodded. Ikaris only looked at him as if to say “go on.”

“In the early years after the death of God’s incarnate Son, Y/N lived among those people.” Druig started. “Religions were in uproar and people were being persecuted for following His teachings and beliefs. It was ironic that those men who lived in that city scourged Y/N for standing up for a child.”

Ikaris balled his fist. He could still remember the ugly welts and gashes on your back.

“‘Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them,’ as He had told them to practice,” he quoted and gave a sarcastic smirk. “The child was trying to enter a place of worship and she was being mistreated for it. Apparently, children were not welcomed to the teachings of their divine leader, despite what He had said. And, naturally, our Y/N, she came to her rescue. She stood up for her and called for a fight so the child could flee.”

Sersi breathed deeply beside him. “And they scourged her for it?”

“They humiliated her. They brought her to the center of the public, strapped her against the wooden pole and whipped her. I lost count when they went beyond fifty.”

Thena touched Gilgamesh’s arm. Kingo closed his eyes, frowning.

“I did not know if they saw her wings but if they did, don’t you find it ironic? An angel being scourged for the sins of man.” Druig gave a sarcastic, empty chuckle. “They told her she did not belong there with them. That she did not belong anywhere.” He looked at Ikaris as if in challenge.

Ikaris slammed a hand down the table and stood. The others who were keen on listening to Druig were startled but only Karun reacted verbally. He turned away from them, feeling disappointment settle on his gut.

He had told you that you did not belong with them, or anywhere. It was his only way to get you to flee from the danger that was imminent. But you were you and you were stubborn. And now he saw that you were hurt as well from what he had said because you had been told that while you were humiliated in front of the public. He might as well had done the scourging of you.

“How does that not make her pure? Wouldn’t her selflessness make her purer than she already is?” Kingo asked.

Ikaris felt Sersi’s hand on his arm and he turned. She knew what you meant to him and he knew she was hurting as well for what happened to you.

“Sit back down, Ikaris,” she told him gently.

He let her push him down on his seat.

“Y/N is too selfless. She did not think twice to help a con man who lured her and used her to earn money. He saw her wings and abused it,” Druig paused. His voice in his next words were grave. “And he abused her.”

“Abused her?” Gil asked. Ikaris dreaded the answer.

“Raped her. Used her. Molested her. Call it whatever you want but it’s all the same. He used her to the point that she became hopeless.”

Ikaris held his mug like a lifeline. He would have killed that man if he knew what he had done to you. He was lucky he was already dead.

“I had never seen an angel who had given up on hope.”

The fire cracked loudly in the stillness.

“And as she was saved by the daughter of the man, she did not only think of herself. She thought of the girl too. She was covered in bruises because her own father had been beating her and Y/N would have given her life for her to be free as well. She didn’t mind that she was abused much more than the girl; she was more worried of the consequence that would happen to the child if he learned she had freed her. She would have brought her if her wings weren’t broken and bleeding from all the pulling and abused it faced from the spectators.”

“I’m beginning to think Y/N would need a savior instead of you, Ikaris,” Kingo tried to joke but it landed flatly. Ikaris only glared at him.

“Has any of you heard of The Weeping Goddess?” Druig asked as he had one of his followers refill his mug.

“I’ve heard talks of a vengeful woman.” Sersi said. “I’ve seen the dagger the woman allegedly used to kill the men.”

“But do you know the story of The Weeping Goddess?” he asked again and Sersi shook her head no.

“Once upon a time—”

“Do not start on a fairytale, Druig,” Ikaris said as he looked at his cousin.

“Not all fairytales end happily,” he said, unaffected and started again. “Once upon a time, we have our Y/N living peacefully in a small village just a few miles from this camp.”

They all looked at Druig now. He ran his finger on the rim of his mug, watching it circle.

“Y/N wanted to live peacefully because Ikaris here kept moving from one place to another. Now, she chose that place because the people did not care if she had wings or if she looked different. She was at peace for a while.”

Ikaris drank his wine and tasted none of it.

“And then men came and promised them a better life. She gave them the benefit of the doubt because that is who Y/N is. She is ever-trusting and she always sees the good in everyone, even if that masked how vile they truly were. So, they lived in peace for a while before they realized they could exploit these uneducated residents. They did. They overworked the men. They abused and slaved the women. They killed the children.”

Sersi shuddered beside him. Sprite swallowed painfully.

“And Y/N decided that enough was enough.”

“Did she do something to them?” Sprite asked in a strained voice.

“She sold her soul for their freedom, Sprite. You see, she was uncorrupted before that day. She was as pure as the first snow of winter.”

“No…” Kingo whispered. Ikaris only watched his family, curious yet pained for what was to come.

“She took the dagger and slew the men. No one knew what happened on the inside of the shack but when she came out, her skin was blazing and in her hands were the bloody decapitated head of the leader and the knife.”

Birds cawed overhead but no one moved.

“She dropped it at the feet of the village’s leader, along with the knife and proclaimed that they were free from the terror of the men. And then she dropped on the ground and wept. People remembered her as the goddess with wings or with the skin that glowed like a thousand suns. The only thing that made true sense for these anthropologists was that she killed a man with a knife. The others, they reported, she burnt them to ash.”

“Like she did with those Deviants,” Kingo said. Druig nodded solemnly.

“The Weeping Goddess,” Sersi whispered. “She’s real.”

“She sold her soul because she has killed. And she wore that guilt in her heart to this day. It marred her soul.”

Ikaris closed his eyes as he remembered the way you had lashed at him about Ajak’s death. You had never held someone who died because you held someone you killed. You were so pure that you made yourself impure because of your purity.

“She’s been through so much,” Thena said.

They were all quiet once more. Ikaris looked at the fire, watching the flames dance around the stagnant air. He had only known of you for a few days and he wondered how he lived without your presence. You were always there for him and he was an ass for trying to get rid of you the moment he learned of your existence.

“She lived off of scraps once,” Druig told them after some time. “She couldn’t hunt because the world was slowly going modern. She didn’t want to be around people because they used and abused her and gave her nothing in return.”

“But she’s very sociable now,” Karun said. “I would never have thought she feared people.”

“In all of the memories I’ve seen of hers, there was only one time she had been helped without being expected to give anything in return. His name was Jack.”

Ikaris looked at Druig now. “Who’s he?” he asked.

“You interrupted me before I got to know more,” Druig said, shaking his head.

“What do you know about this Jack person? We have to thank him.” Kingo said.

“Jack would have to be another immortal if you want to thank him,” Druig drawled before drinking.

“What did this Jack do?” Ikaris asked, voice hard.

Druig gave his cousin a lopsided smirk. “The thing you couldn’t bring yourself to admit.” he said simply.

Ikaris was close to reaching over and bashing Druig’s head in the fire.

“Druig.” Gil said.

“Jack pulled her from being lost and afraid. He took Y/N with him, fed, bathed, clothed her.”

I’ve seen it on my face before too, you had said to him when you insisted that he looked like that at Sersi’s revelation. You knew because you had been in that position before. And you had been through a lot that he couldn’t fathom how you could still take some more.

Druig turned to Thena. “He told her that he was no threat to her, that if he ever tried anything untoward her, she was free to alarm the neighbors. She was free to leave whenever she wanted to.” He raised a brow. “She’s done the same to you.”

Thena gave a singular solemn nod.

“This is why I promised to never hurt her,” he said. He gestured to the rest of the Eternals. “Our Y/N, she is special. She may not be an Eternal but I would trust her with my life.”

“As do I,” Thena said. “She was the only one who asked of my memories.”

Everyone turned to her. “When I saw the Deviant absorb her powers, I knew I had to save her. She promised to be with me if there were Deviants around and she did. My Mahd Wy’ry made me attack her but Gilgamesh told me she did not lose faith in me, that my… episode of madness would only be fleeting. He told me she tried everything she could to pull me back.”

Gilgamesh nodded beside Thena. “She did not think twice when she attacked even if she had told me it had been a while since she had hunted. She protected me. I would trust her with my life too.”

“She never treated me like I was a kid. She didn’t even bench me when we were ambushed,” Sprite said. “She knew what I was capable of and we worked together on that.” She smiled but it did not reach her eyes. “She looked so badass when she killed that Deviant.”

“I would give up my life for her,” Karun said.

Ikaris looked at the man as did the rest of them.

“She might not be Garuda but she saved me. Giving her my life is the only honorable thing to do.” Kingo’s valet said.

“She likes my movies,” Kingo murmured and the rest of the group smiled, spirits lifting for a while. “She thinks I’m more than just a superstar. People don’t often see past Bollywood Kingo.”

Sersi gave a little smile. “I always knew there was something about Y/N that lifted my spirits. Even if I didn’t know she was an angel, I would have called her one.”

“She is one of us now,” Druig said.

“She’s like Ajak,” Sprite said and everyone turned to her. “She brings us all together and keeps all of us safe in every way she can.”

He found everyone nodding in agreement but their faces were grim. You almost gave up your life for every one of them around this table and the best they did was wait for you to get better. Ikaris remained silent and only watched the fire dance before him.

The healer appeared on Ikaris’s right side after a few moments. “I am done tending to her. You may see her if you wish but be silent. She is resting.”

Ikaris nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured and walked back to the camp hospice. The healer had bandaged as much as she could with your back, leaving only two slanted patches of skin uncovered. It must have been where your wings started to jut from your back, he thought. He reached out gently, running a finger softly on the skin and felt your skin quiver. Your wing had reacted to his touch and he pulled away.

He had never felt coldness like that before when he saw you in Gilgamesh’s arms. He still had much to tell you, so much to apologize for, but if you were dead…

He took a deep breath and touched your head. You were still under his hand.

If you were dead, he was good as dead too.

“We’ll take turns watching her,” Sersi said.

He looked at the door and found her and the rest of their family standing by.

“I’ll take first watch,” Sprite volunteered.

Ikaris only shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s about time I do the watching.” He turned back to you.

“You need to take a rest, boss.” Kingo said.

“I’ll be fine,” Ikaris repeated with conviction. When he remained silent, they all piled and went away.

He watched you throughout the night, only letting the healer in to check on you every two hours or so. Your pulse stayed steady and you were still asleep. The others still came by and tried to convinced him to let them watch you but every time he disagreed. They did, however, talk to themselves of the next plan and decided that they needed Phastos’s help. Sersi wanted him to come along but he said that he would only go if you came too.

“When she’s okay, we’ll leave. I’m not going to leave her here,” he said with finality and Sersi agreed.

It was a mystery to him why you still believed in humanity. You had the scars and the guilt that would make even the noblest of judges think otherwise but it did not deter you. Yes, you were an angel, but even the strongest of angels give up. What did you possess that made you sacrifice yourself for the people who harm you?

Love. You had love and you gave love. And if he put a name to the affection you were showering him with in spite of your sarcasm, it was that.

On the second day, he was slowly losing hope. The only thing that assured him you were alive was the healer’s confirmation of your breath. You hadn’t moved at all, even when he tried touching the junction of your back and your wing. You did not react from his touch this time. He was tempted to grab your wing so he could get some kind of response from you but he drew back because you needed to heal.

He only stayed by your side, never leaving you until he needed to but even then, he debated if he wanted to. He was eating the chocolate bar Sprite had given him when you suddenly moved in your cot. It was a small movement but you made a loud groan.

“Y/N?” he called out gently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Is this what a hangover feels like?” You groaned as you touched your head.

He smiled in relief, glad to hear you still had your smart mouth with you.

“Welcome back,” he said softly and helped you sat.

You held your head, eyes squinting as you looked at him. “Ikaris?”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, touching your arm. Your powers were stronger now and they called to him; charging his fingers but he welcomed the sensation. You were awake and your powers were back. He never wanted to hear the low buzz of your powers ever again.

“Like someone ran me over with a freight train, Jesus Christ,” you murmured.

He cradled your head and looked at you. You looked at him, confused and still in obvious pain.

“You’re acting weird,” you told him.

“You almost died, Y/N. How do you expect me to act?”

“I don’t know?” You pushed at his hands away weakly. “Overjoyed, maybe? No more annoying angel following you.”

He frowned. He knew he was at fault for a lot of his actions and his words but had he truly made you feel that way?

“What’s an angel gotta do to get some water around here?” you said as you tried to move away from him. You braced your hands on the edge of the cot, moving your feet so they were on the ground. He felt the force of your wings against his back and he moved away to make space.

“I’ll get you some water,” he stood and looked back at you. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you said surly.

“Then do as I say so I don’t tell you twice.” He went to the other side of the room, picking up a cup and poured water.

“What happened?” you asked when you had drank.

Ikaris was sat beside you again in your bed, mindful of your healing wings.

“What do you remember?” he asked.

“Only that some octopus-looking Deviant got to Gil and I had to save him.” You touched your neck and he saw the bandage there. “It tried sucking the life out of me. Literally. I felt like I was slowly dying.”

He nodded. “That’s what Gil and Thena told me.”

“Are they okay?”

“Yes. Everyone is, thanks to you. The Deviant escaped.”

“Well, shit. I thought I was fighting amazingly for someone who hasn’t done that in almost a century.” You drank your water again. “Pretty ironic I was able to save everyone except for you and I’m your guardian angel.” You quipped and grinned at him.

He smiled softly at you. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

You raised a brow. “You are acting really weird, Ikaris. Do Deviants shapeshift? Because the Ikaris I know wouldn’t really act nice around me. I’m more of a nuisance than an angel to him.”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Holy shit.”

He looked at you. “What?”

“Did I just die and go to heaven?” You asked.

“Y/N.”

“Did you really just apologize?”

“I did and I am. I’m really sorry for the words I said.”

You moved away from him and he resisted reaching to you to bring you back closer to him.

“You’re blowing hot and cold around me, Ikaris. I don’t know if I’m still confused after all of the events or if I’m dead—”

“You’re not dead,” he insisted.

“—Or if I’m drugged so I can properly heal but you’re just playing with my head. Right!” You chuckled almost crazily as you looked at him. “That must be it! Oh, my god! You almost had me believing you actually apologized to me!”

He frowned. “Why is it so hard to believe?”

“Because you tried to kiss me one minute and then you’re pushing me away the next!” You stood on wobbly legs and he held out a hand to support you. “You said I don’t belong anywhere and yet you ask me to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“Did it have to take me to die before you realize you could finally feel some fucking emotions?”

“That’s unfair and you know it,” he said gravely as he stood before you. “I can feel, Y/N. Why do you think I tried to kiss you in Gil and Thena’s home?”

“Because I was near and convenient!”

“No! Because I wanted to!” He pressed his chest against yours. “And I still want to even after what Sersi said about Arishem and his plans.”

He gripped your arms carefully and made you look at him. “I still want to kiss you, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath and looked away. “Ikaris…”

“I know you want it to. You react to my touch. It’s not your power that’s stinging you. It’s me. And you're stinging me too.”

You looked at him. “Then kiss me, dammit.”

Ikaris didn’t need to be told twice. He bent his head low, enough for you to reach up to him. He held you closer to him and as his breath touched your lips, the door to the hospice opened.

“Boss! I thought I heard Y/N!” Kingo exclaimed.

You grunted loudly. “Fuck!”

He would have said the same but he schooled his features and put you down. He looked at Kingo with a raised brow.

“Y/N!” Kingo exclaimed and went to you, prying you from Ikaris’s arms and hugging you.

“Kingo,” Ikaris warned. “Her back is still sore.”

He set you down gently and smiled at you. “I was reviewing the footage Karun took of you and wow, you have the makings of a star.”

You huffed. “I thought that’s been established when I said I wanted to be mysterious in your documentary?”

“Kingo, is there a reason you’re here?” Ikaris interjected.

“Sersi says you need to get going.” Kingo told him. “She said she couldn’t go without you.”

He saw you raise your brows. “Where are they going?”

“They’re going to get to Phastos to see if they can convince him.”

“Where is Phastos?”

“Last we checked, he’s in Chicago.”

Chicago.

You insisted you were well enough to join Ikaris and Sersi on their journey to get Phastos in Chicago. The healer said you needed more time to heal, that the bones of your wings were still piecing themselves together. You nodded anyways, having had dealt with something like this before. You didn’t mind the pins and needles that pricked your wings as it healed, as long as you came with them to Chicago.

It had been a lifetime ago. The best lifetime you had in a while and you never looked back. You promised yourself a sabbatical when you were still in South Dakota because you hadn’t visited Chicago for quite some time. And now that you had your chance, even with your broken wings, you still declared to go—without fully stating why you were adamant.

Ikaris hadn’t tried to kiss you again after attempting in the hospice. Sersi was there and she was still his wife. You didn’t want to be the third party in their five-thousand-year relationship. You didn’t want the added guilt.

When you arrived in Chicago, you didn’t expect the Inventor amongst the Eternals to be living in the most benign, very unlikely-looking house. He lived in the suburbs with the fancy front lawns and a cul-de-sac and, honestly, good for him. You would have settled for a house like that if you weren’t always at the ends of the world, following your piece-of-work of an Eternal.

“Are you an angel?” A little kid asked.

You, Ikaris, and Sersi had stopped before Phastos’s house. You saw the kid even as you approached but you didn’t realize he was one of the people who saw your wings. And he still deemed you an angel even if your wings were battered and crooked.

“Hi,” Sersi said to the man playing fetch with the kid.

“Hello,” he replied with a smile. “Can we help you?”

“Hey, Jack, Ben,” Phastos said.

You looked down on the kid before crouching to meet his eyes. “Are you Jack or are you Ben?” you asked.

“I’m Jack,” he grinned. “Are you really an angel?”

You heard introductions were being made and you looked up at Phastos with a warm smile. “Y/N. Pleased to meet you.”

He only raised his brow and Ikaris nodded at him. “She’s with me.”

“Dad! She’s an angel!” Jack exclaimed with a smile. “Look at her wings!”

“Jack,” Ben scolded softly.

“No, it’s true,” Sersi said with a smile.

“Okay, maybe we should just go inside now?” Phastos offered. “So the neighbors won’t hear?”

Jack took your hand and walked beside you. “Can you fly?” he asked you.

“Of course.” You smiled at him gently, squeezing his hand.

“Can you take me flying?” he asked innocently and you chuckled.

“I don’t think your dads would want me to take you flying.” You said as you let him lead you to the house.

Jack was a talkative child. Ben tried to tell him not to bother you, seeing as you looked weary from the long flight but you only shook your head and welcomed all of his tales. He loved playing catch with his dad Ben and his dad Phastos liked to tinker with toys and made them way cooler. You listened to all of this all the while helping Ben with preparing dinner. It was the closest thing to a family you had always wanted and you savored every moment of it.

Ikaris, Sersi, and Phastos talked shop in the dining room and you let them. You were pretty much unneeded in this journey because they didn’t need your calming nature. Phastos warmed up to you pretty quickly like the rest of his family and although he was skeptical of you being an angel, Jack’s insistence of it proved to be pretty convincing. Plus, you let him touch your wing carefully and he promised he would make something for it to heal properly the next time it gets fractured. You thanked him profusely for that.

You entered the dining room and poured all of them a fresh cup of tea.

“Have a seat, Y/N,” Phastos said and you took your place opposite Sersi’s.

“So, after all these years, you fell for Ajak’s lies.” Phastos said with a hint of sadness and hurt. “It all made sense why she wouldn’t let us interfere with human conflicts. Conflicts lead to war, and war leads to advancement in life-saving technology and medicine. So our mission was never to make a peaceful, harmonious world, but to increase the population, at all costs.”

You took a sip of your tea and held on to its warmth. The topic was a cold one but it needed telling.

“Just farming humans as food for the Celestials, right?” Phastos said nonchalantly but you knew he felt the betrayal deep in him.

“That’s bleak,” Ikaris commented but all of you knew it was true.

“Well, so is telling your husband and your child they could be dead within a few days.”

“I thought you’ve given up on humans?” Ikaris said.

You wanted to kick his shin from under the table but he was a bit far from you. Ikaris had no need to be unfeeling towards Phastos.

“I got lucky, okay?” Phastos said. “I have a family now. They’ve given me faith again and I see the good in humanity in them every single day.”

“Not everyone is good,” Ikaris said and he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t.

“If everyone is good,” you said. “Would that make them humans? Humans make mistakes and that’s why they’re such.”

You saw Phastos turn to you. “I wanted to ask about you but Jack’s taken up so much of your time.”

You smiled. “Then ask me now.”

“Do you think the humans are worth saving?”

“We all make mistakes, don’t we? None of us are perfect but we’re still given a chance to survive.” You sat back on your seat. “To err is human, after all.”

“Even if they killed—”

“Would you throw away the whole basket of apples if you saw one rotten one amongst the good ones?” You asked. “You taught them to survive, Phastos. You didn’t teach them their morals. If you hold yourself accountable for all of the mistakes of humanity, it will keep you awake at night.”

“And you know this because?”

You weren’t offended by his question because he seemed genuinely curious. You smiled sadly and took a deep breath. “I’ve been alive for seven thousand years and I wasn’t perfect in all that time. I’ve killed men and it goes against everything I stand for. My guilt ate at me but I kept going. I love humanity because it’s a thing of beauty, even with its multitude of flaws and mistakes. I think they’re worth saving because who knows? Maybe the people who survive this would end up doing better than their predecessors.”

“You’re talking about chance.”

You shrugged. “Chance is all we have.”

“You really believe that this is worth it?”

“Someone took a chance on me once without knowing who I was. I would just like to return the favor.”

Your words hung on air after that.

“I’m sorry. I cannot help you.” Phastos said.

Sersi’s heartbreak was palpable. You were disappointed but you remained quiet.

“I choose to use my powers to fix my child’s bicycle than use it for something else like that.”

“Do you?” Ikaris drawled.

“I don’t use my powers anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Ikaris asked and none of you expected him to use his cosmic beams to try and bore a hole in Phastos’s window.

Instead of breaking, the patterns of the Inventor Eternal flared to life as it resisted Ikaris’s attack.

“Ikaris!” You exclaimed.

“What the hell is wrong with you! My child is right down the hallway!” Phastos shouted.

“That looks like someone’s been using his powers,” Ikaris only said.

You sighed and stood. Ikaris was back to being his old ass self.

“I bet you built the perfect safe house. What’s this even made of, vibranium?” Ikaris asked.

When you saw him raise his fist, you placed your hand down on the table and produced a shield on top of it. You felt Ikaris’s strength against your powers as he brought his fist down and you frowned at him. At least the table didn’t break.

“Not vibranium. Fall collection,” Phastos said with a sigh. “IKEA.”

You drew your power back. “Really, Ikaris. Phastos is being nice to us and you’re trying to ruin his house,” you scolded.

“If you stay here, you might as well invite the Deviants to dinner, never mind waiting for the end of the world.” Ikaris said instead.

“He has a point,” Sersi seconded.

“No. I’m sorry but you can’t just show up in my life and expect me to go with you.”

You saw Ben by the hallway and nodded back at him as he nodded at you. You knew he had been aware of his husband’s origin and you told him in small details of why you were there. You knew it was a hard pill for Ben to swallow, that the impending doom was just right around the corner, but he deserved to know. You didn’t say much of how it was going to happen because you didn’t want to overstep a boundary. That was for Phastos to explain, not for you.

“Phastos, I think Ben has some words he wants to tell you. We’ll let you and him talk it over,” you said. “After all, partners have a right to know.”

Sersi nodded and stood. Ikaris stood as well.

“If you don’t mind, there’s somewhere I want to go before we leave this city.” You told them as you moved to the door.

“Of course,” Sersi said.

“I’m coming with you.” Ikaris made a move to follow you.

“But Sersi—”

“I can stay behind. I would like to spend some time with Jack too.” She smiled at you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You nodded your head towards the door and went ahead. Ikaris trailed after you.

“Where are we going?” he asked as you started walking down the familiar path.

Chicago was beautiful at night. There had been days when you just walked around with no destination in mind, just watching people and the stars. People were a lot nicer the last time you lived here and there were lesser lights. Now, they drowned out the stars that you so often looked at. Chicago was different but the essence was still there.

You turned to the cemetery and counted the trees, walking when you found your marker. You passed by headstones upon headstones, fingers trailing them as you counted the steps to the one you were looking for. The granite hadn’t been cleaned for decades and weeds had grown around it. You needed to get in touch with a grave cleaner if someone already hadn’t.

You bent low, your light illuminating the name and you smiled softly.

“I want you to meet someone, Ikaris,” you said as you touched the name on the headstone. Jacob Nicholson. 1809 – 1886. Loving husband and father. I shall see you again, my sweet angel.

“This was Jack, the love of my life.”

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astro-pioneer · 3 years

Text

Friendship Bracelets 『Xiao, Zhongli, Venti』

If you see me post and reblog a lot of Xiao content no you don't shut up. I also don't know how to make friendship bracelets or what they're made of so we're winging it here. Anyway all platonic and child!reader in Zhongli's and Venti's since I felt it fit better. I'm not proud of Zhongli's (:

⌾ Little yaksha man was confused about the concept at first

⌾ When you proposed the idea he deadass just went "what and why"

⌾ But even when you didn't explain it to him right away he still made one with you - he gets to hang out with his best and only friend

⌾ A win-win situation in his eyes honestly - you're happy and he gets to hang out with you

⌾ And when you revealed that it was for both of you to have a small trinket of sorts to always have? He felt like he was gonna pass out

⌾ Never in his 2,000+ life has he thought that someone would want something coming from his tainted hands

He watched as you bounded up the stairs with a small bag smacking against your hip. It made a multiple different sounds with every step; metal clinking one time, wood smacking against each other another - your bag just sounded like a mess was inside of it. "What do you have?" Xiao wasn't suspicious but rather curious. He never heard all those sounds coming from one source at one time.

Your grin spoke for you as you urged him to sit across from you on the floor. "C'mon, sit down, oh so respected Guardian Yaksha." His complaints about the title went ignored but he did as requested, curiously looking at the small pouches you spread about. "Sh, sh, sh, no questions yet. Just take this string and use whatever you find appealing, alright?"

With a huff, he started to string together whatever he found pleasant, mostly blues, greens, and teals, but with one amber located in the middle. "I thought it'd be nice to have something the other made, you know? Kind of like a friendship charm or something." The bead slid down and smacked the one under with a small clank. Concerned, you look up, only to witness Xiao with flushed cheeks and an awed expression. He refuses to admit it, but his heart and shoulders for a little lighter after that.

⌾ Confused Peepaw™ through and through

⌾ Had no passing thoughts when you suddenly stormed up to him during his nightly strolls with a pout - practically blue screened

⌾ Why were you: still awake, upset (especially towards him), holding a small brown box in your hands, and angrily pointing at the smiling old lady standing behind you?

⌾ Oh, oh. You were talking, the lady is Madame Ping, you're mad you can't give him his gift until he does something with the adeptus

⌾ And so he went and, when sat at the little table and handed a bunch of colourful strands, had no clue what he was doing

⌾ But that's ok! Both Madame Ping and you were there to help him and you were finally able to give him his gift

"Mr. Zhongli! Slow down, please!" He did as requested, a questioning hum escaping him as he watched the child that grew to like him rush as fast as they could after him. "Mr. Zhongli, you have to come with Grammy Ping! Or else I won't be able to give this to you!" His daze and questions went away when he was tugged to go towards who-knows-where to do who-knows-what (he obviously didn't).

The old-looking adeptus laughed at the former archon's face, "Oh dear, looks like he doesn't know what to do. Why don't you help him out?" Madame Ping looked at Zhongli with a smug expression; she was doing this on purpose to have the child and adult hang out more. But he was alright with that, since the expression that appeared on your face was one he wish you'd forever have.

The items on the table were the same you used to make his. That was on purpose on the adeptus's part. Zhongli watched as you prepped the string before handing it to him, "And now all you do is slide them on until it's filled just enough to tie the ends together." He did as told, connecting the dots when he was halfway finished with the bracelet. Madame Ping used a Kamera to snap a picture of the two of you smiling as you exchanged bracelets.

⌾ DRUNKEN SCUM I TELL YOU

⌾ He knew what he was doing when he slid a bracelet that matched his person, completed with multiple charms too, onto your wrist

⌾ Not even five minutes after giving you it and disappearing to Windrise did he see you bounding up the small inclines

⌾ He already had everything prepared!

⌾ And as soon as he gave you the instructions the realization dawned onto him

⌾ His first friend gave him something that can be altered, but his second one gave him the object of their sincerity

His eyes were knowing as he adjusted the bracelet. "And...there! Now you'll forever have something that reminds you of me, Little Wind!" His sentence was paired with a tap on your nose before dissipating into a feathery breeze that lead him back to Windrise. A blanket was already laid out paired with his favourite colour beads and charms that represented you.

And so he sat down and waited to see your head pop over the tiny hills, your form moving with a determined purpose. "Mr. Bard, can I make a bracelet for you too? It's unfair that you gave me a gift when I didn't have one for you." Venti smiled at that - he's glad you're going to grow up with that mindset.

"Why, of course you can! Come here, sit and I'll help you!" Eagerly, you sat down next to him, watching as he demonstrated what to do before handing it to you to finish. The charms were the finishing touch before the bracelet was slipped onto his thin, pale wrist. You rushed home before you could get in trouble, leaving the green-clad bard with his thoughts. The feeling of melancholy was different than usual, it seems.

#✩ neptune #✎ expedition #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #venti x reader

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years

Text

Three Nights (Unconditional sequel)

Night Two

05/25/2021

Pairing: August Walker x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 1,807

Warnings: hormones, sex during pregnancy, fingering, vaginal sex, slight dom!August, dirty talk, language

Summary: In the middle of her second trimester, Mrs Walker is a hormonal mess. One night, she finds herself in dire need of release, but August just won't wake.

A/N: Next part of the sequel coming right up and things are getting a little steamy...

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

(I couldn't find the source of this picture, so if anyone happens to know, please tell me.)

“August?”

Expectantly she listened into the silence. Nothing. Well, at least if one didn’t count his steady breathing and the rolling of the waves in the distance.

“August,” she tried again, a little louder this time. But still he didn’t move. Measuring her options, she watched his face in the pale moonlight that fell through the open windows. He looked so peaceful, and she envied him his deep slumber. How was he not even sweating in this clammy heat?

Finally, the curtains swayed in a breeze of night air, making her hope for a little refreshment, but it only brought more of the sweltering humidity. With a thud, her head fell back into the pillows, underlined by a frustrated sigh. Slowly her hands drifted over the already rather prominent bump that had once been a delightfully squishy part of her body.

“You know this is really only your fault, right? As if the bloody nausea hadn’t been enough in the first place, now you decide to torture me with everlasting horniness instead. Is it too early to say that you’re taking after your father completely?”

But instead of an answer, another gush of wind rolled over her sensitive skin, the sensation alone enough to make her moan as it coaxed another wave of desire to roll through her. This was insufferable, she thought, as she propped herself up on one elbow again. Why wouldn’t he just wake up? At every other time, he picked up on her horny state with the precision of a bloodhound. Damned be his stupid sound sleep.

She bit her lip as a thought crossed her mind. She would most likely regret this and in the end it would probably hurt her more than him. But desperate times demanded desperate measures, and by now she was willing to do almost anything if he only tended to her need and got his dick inside of her promptly.

“August!” she almost yelled and with a swish, her hand cut through the thick air until it came down on his cheek with a harsh slap.

Roaring at the top of his lungs he was wide awake in an instant. And before she could fathom what was happening, she found herself on her back, wrists pressed into the pillow next to her head by his strong hands, furious eyes glaring down at her wildly.

“You’re lucky you’re carrying my child, woman, or you might have found yourself bend over my knees by now to receive your adequate punishment.”

She could feel her walls clench violently around nothing by the mere thought of him having his way with her like that. And before she even had the chance to hold it back, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, very much.” She bit her lip again and it didn’t escape her notice how his grip on her loosened a bit, his eyes softening equally upon her eagerness.

“Is this why you woke me up?”

She nodded, shooting him a perfect pair of doe eyes. “Bloody hormones won’t let me sleep, Augie.”

With a huff, more of the tension left his body. “At least that would explain why you thought it wise to slap me awake.”

“What else was I supposed to do? I did try the nice way, but you just wouldn’t wake up and my panties are literally soaked.”

He growled lowly in the back of his throat, making her clench even harder.

“Are they now?”

Careful not to put his weight onto her body, he clutched both of her wrists in just one hand. He grinned smugly and she knew immediately that she was in trouble. The best kind of trouble. And while she still couldn’t believe that her ludicrous plan had actually worked, his free hand dipped down between her legs without a warning, forcing them apart to grant him better access. Lazily, he dragged his fingers through her folds, stirring the fire inside of her with minimal effort.

“Now that’s disappointing.” What? Having expected his praise, those words of displeasure made her heart fall instantly. But he wasn’t done scolding her, yet. “First you hit me like a bloody lunatic and now you have the audacity to lie to my face so shamelessly, princess?”

“I’m not lying,” she croaked, feeling utterly sorry for herself as she saw her chances for satisfaction dwindle, “My juices are practically flowing over.”

But August’s face stayed unreadable, giving her no hint at all where this was going.

“Oh, no doubt about that,” he finally stated after a long minute of silence.

Wrinkling her forehead in confusion, she was forced to watch helplessly as his face came closer. She could already feel his searing breath on her lips, closing her eyes in anticipation of a redeeming kiss, when he turned his head only the fraction of an inch before contact and dove down into the crook of her neck.

“But your panties aren’t soaked at all, princess, because actually, you’re not wearing any.”

The hunger in his impossibly low voice would have been enough to make her dizzy, but when he bit down on her neck with purpose her body reacted of its own accord. Her back arched violently, pressing herself into him while a deep moan told of her want for more. And when she suddenly felt his fingertips press into her entrance, she knew that his whole act of disappointment had simply been for show. A distraction, so that he -

Oh God, his fingers were filling her so perfectly. Deeper and deeper he sank into her until he was buried three knuckles deep. With a gasp her eyes flew open again and she almost missed his next sentence above the white noise that rushed in her ears.

“You know, you’re really lucky, my painfully aroused angel. Because your sweet little pussy is far too wet to worry about such minor details now.”

His fingers had picked up a steady pace, sliding in and out of her sensitive womanhood pointedly. It was a good start, she thought, but by far not enough to sate her craving. As always, he enjoyed teasing her more than anything. But unlike every other time, tonight she wasn’t in the mood for his teasing, not in the agonising state she was in.

“August, please,” she whimpered. “You promised to make it better, not worse.”

Unimpressed by her words, he continued his slow ministrations, his mouth nipping and sucking its way from her shoulder to her ear.

“You must be mistaken,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft spot right underneath her ear that made her shiver. “I can’t remember making a promise like that at any point.”

Another wave of frustration took hold of her as her brain registered his repeated rejection. Straining against his tight grip, she was practically begging by now.

“Please, I…”

“Say it!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

No, she wouldn’t let him have this triumph, even if he chose to deny her the satisfaction she longed for because of her disobedience. In that case she would have to tend to herself, but under no circumstance would she let him tease her anymo - oh.

Holy shit. She didn’t know how this was possible, but it somehow had escaped her notice altogether that his head had abandoned its spot next to hers and had dipped down to pay his attention to one of her oversensitive breasts. And before she would lose her mind completely, she cried out in a state of utter desperation.

“I need you to fuck me, August. Please. Let me feel your hard cock deep inside of me or I’ll go insane.”

In the blink of an eye he stopped, his hands and mouth retreating as soon as she had finally said the words, giving her some time to calm down a little.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, princess, was it?” he whispered smugly. “Now let me deliver you from your agony.”

Her senses still in overdrive, she felt too weak to even move, but that didn’t matter anyway because, as always, August took care of her. Gently he moved her around until her body moulded into his perfectly. His warm chest lay against her back, his arm offering her a comfortable place to rest her head, and soon she could feel the claiming press of his promisingly hard length. With no effort at all, he sank into her, and finally, finally the excruciating unease inside of her ebbed away.

“Shit, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, darling.” His hot breath fanned across her neck, setting her on fire.

“I’ve also never been this pregnant and this horny before,” she moaned, her hand finding his on the cool sheets, entwining her fingers with his as he slowly started to move.

“Don’t worry. I promise we’re going to change one of these two in no time.”

And eager to keep his promise, his free hand dove down to the junction of her thighs, granting himself access to her bud. Carefully he pressed down, opting for drawing slow, deliberate circles. She was so hypersensitive as of lately and he was determined not to overdo it like last time. But judging from her elaborated breaths and the tell-tale sounds that fell from her sweet mouth, she was enjoying herself genuinely.

“August.” His name rolled over her lips with a shiver while his mouth tended to the sweet spot on her neck. Argus-eyed, he monitored every movement, every noise she made. Her relief was all that mattered to him now. But the first beads of sweat were already beginning to form on her forehead, triggering his worry in mere seconds.

“Should we stop?”

“No!” she almost cried out as if she was in pain. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

And as soon as she had uttered the words, she could feel the eagerly-awaited tension inside of her build. Every thrust, every kiss he left on her overheated skin, every groan that rolled through his chest brought her closer, pushing her closer towards deliverance. And when she finally passed the point of no return, she turned her head to find his lips while the redeeming pleasure rolled over her enraptured body. And just when she thought she would pass out from all the bliss, she could feel his response.

He was sure that she had never climaxed this hard, her walls gripping him so tightly that the sensation caught him completely off guard. Speeding up his hips, he allowed himself to give in as well. And while his mind gradually clouded over, he grabbed her belly possessively in his last moment of clarity and for the first time, he could feel a sign of the life that was growing inside of her.

Part 3

***

Tag List: please let me know if you want to be removed or added by either ask or DM - thank you!

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @agniavateira

#august walker x reader #august walker #august walker x you #august walker imagine #august walker fic #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine

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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 4 years

Text

sweet like the thunder on my tongue

pairing: willex

word count: 2786

tw for light swearing

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

or, in which willie realizes his true strength.

taglist is in the reblogs, fic is under the cut!

—————

“Willie?”

The skater’s head pops up, cutting off the conversation he was having to look over at his boss.

“Can I see you for a moment? In my office?” Caleb gestures toward the stairwell.

Wordlessly, Willie follows him, only growing concerned when they walk right past the office and towards another room at the end of the hall which he’d never paid any mind to before. Was that door even there before? “Caleb, what’s going on?”

Caleb opened the door to the room and ushered him inside-- well, more shoved, but who is Willie to talk back to him right now-- while all Willie could do was look around and wait for Caleb to say something. The room was dark-- pitch black, actually, and he couldn’t see anything inside. He could now barely see his own hands, if not for the single hanging light above Caleb’s head as he stood in the hallway still, blocking the doorframe. With a wave of his fingers, Caleb pushed Willie down into some kind of, apparently, vantablack chair, metal clamps fastening around his wrists as soon as he reached the seat. Caleb leaned against the doorframe, seemingly inspecting his nails. “You’ve betrayed me, William.”

Willie steels himself, squeezing his eyelids shut, and replies, “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His efforts to cover his tracks were pitiful, to be completely honest. He wasn’t sure how much energy he had left at that point; before he’d met the band— before he’d met Alex— he thought that the best thing about the afterlife was that he could do what he wanted for as long as he wanted, day in and day out, as long as he came back to the club to do the shows. But now, his entire perspective has been shaken up, and he’s honestly gotten sick of doing the same things every single day. Why should he go see the same sights he’s seen since 1983 when he could be screaming in a museum, or stealing an entire fucking bus, or anything that can actually make a connection between him and another person?

Except, now he can’t even do that anymore. His connections are gone. They all crossed over (except for Julie, who never saw him in the first place), and he was left to his own devices, again. Willie isn’t sure what else there is for him to do, and in all transparency, if he hasn’t figured out his unfinished business yet, he doubts he ever will. Caleb putting him out of his misery now would probably just save him a lot of trouble.

“Don’t be coy,” Caleb jabs at him, standing up straight. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you a place to stay, food to eat, things to do, and this is how you repay me? You help my recruits escape?”

Willie sighs, the helplessness beginning to overwhelm him. “What does it matter, anyway? They’ve crossed over, you don’t have competition anymore, right?”

“William, the boys are still out there. And they’ve lost their stamps.” Willie freezes. They lost their stamps? Alex is alive— or, at least, as alive as he can be? “Regardless, I have never been worried about competition. Those boys have power, power that could rival my own. I can’t just have that out there in the world, where it could fall into the wrong hands, now, can I?” Caleb sneers, a sickenly sweet smirk on his face.

Furrowing his brows, Willie rushes out in reply, “They’re playing in a pop rock band, they’re practically harmless, what could they even—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Caleb interrupts, his icy eyes boring into Willie’s own.

Willie shuts his mouth and swallows his nerves. And maybe his pride.

Caleb leans forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “I can’t have anyone’s power rival my own. That would steal away my precious audience, my empire that I’ve built over the last hundred years. Every ghost in my club would otherwise be a threat to me, had they not signed away their powers when they sold me their souls. With their powers under my possession, I have full reign over any paranormal capabilities that this world could possibly hold.” He stands back up. “I’ve kept my enemies close, you could say.”

It tumbles out of his mouth before he could even think about it: “But I don’t have any powers.”

Caleb smirks. “And who told you that?”

Willie was looking right at him. He feels no need to answer, and even if he wanted to, his mouth is going dry and there’s a lump in his throat preventing him from doing anything other than remaining still.

“Don’t get your hopes up about the boys still being here, William,” Caleb says after a moment. “They won’t be when you get out.” He slams the door, leaving Willie in the room, with nothing but dark, dark, dark, alone.

***

“Alright, where’s our first stop?” Luke asks as Julie shrugs her backpack over her shoulder and takes a sip from her water bottle. She and the boys were walking down Sunset Boulevard, her with Airpods in so she could talk to the boys without getting odd looks from others. Julie was planning a sleepover with Flynn for the following night, and the boys jumped at the chance to help her run errands, since hanging out in the studio was getting a little boring.

“Can we stop for pizza? I know we can’t eat it, but at least I can smell it!” Reggie pleads, using his puppy dog eyes.

“Reg, that face only works on Luke and Alex. You can smell it tomorrow night when she’s over, yeah?” Julie jokes. “I was thinking—”

A dark, purple smoke appears in front of them, causing them to stumble and still themselves, the boys’ faces all paling once they realize who’s in front of them.

Caleb smiles, sickeningly sweet. “Hello, boys. And you must be Julie.”

***

He has powers.

Willie has powers, and he hadn’t known this entire fucking time.

This guy, who was supposed to be Willie’s mentor for the past, who knows, thirty-ish years now, who he had once looked up to, who had taken him in has his own, who had given him a way to keep track of time again, who somehow knew he had powers that he couldn’t manage on his own, did all of it for his own advantage. He used him to gain more power and control, while making Willie think he cared. Thirty fucking years.

Right now, he’s trapped in this room, yeah, but Willie feels more suffocated by the hurt and confusion surrounding him more than anything else. He can’t stand that Alex and the boys are probably out there right now, about to be destroyed by Caleb, because of him, again. He hates that nearly all of his afterlife has just been a giant fucking lie. And with these stupid new-but-not-really powers, he doesn’t even know where to start. So, he does what he knows best.

Willie screams.

He cries a bit too, but mostly he screams until his voice grows hoarse.

Ever since he passed away, he’s always loved the feeling that grows in his chest when he screams, knowing that he can just take up so much space without anyone (or at least, anyone important) hearing. It hurts sometimes, obviously, but really it just feels like lightning forming in his veins, sparking against his the walls of his skin, ready to burst through.

He doesn’t notice until he takes a gasp for air that this time, it actually has.

Willie gasps again, this time in shock. It’s a bright, brilliant green, wires of light darting across his fingertips and palms. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

Willie squeezes his eyes shut and makes two fists, willing the stinging of the lightning to go away by distracting himself with the stinging of his own fingernails. He realizes then that he’s created light, that he’s given himself a way out, so he reopens his hands and holds them out, looking for the door that Caleb had previously slammed. He spots it and moves to get up, almost forgetting about his arm braces. He curses under his breath, and begins to rack his brain for a way out of them, the green still dancing around his arms.

He screams again.

***

They’d been cornered into an alleyway, which was probably best for any bystander’s sanity, anyway, but it meant that they were trapped by Caleb. Again.

“What do you want with us?” Luke had asked when Caleb first appeared, walking in front of Julie with a guarding arm.

Caleb had sighed in reply, taking a step forward, “Oh, I’ve decided I don’t need you three anymore. You’re not of any use to me, not without your lifer by your side. Without a life source, you’re about as powerful as any other regular ghost. I just need her.”

Luke stood fully in front of Julie then, Reggie and Alex flanking him to protect her. “You will never get to her,” Alex had chimed in, ice in his tone.

“Bold statement from someone who still chooses to hide behind his friends.” Alex had looked down at his shoes in shame, face turning red. “Oh, don’t worry, we all know you’re not brave enough to take me on by yourself,” Caleb chuckled to himself. “Besides, you boys seem to have forgotten how powerful I am— or can we do without the reminder?” Caleb added, lifting his hand as a wisp of purple smoke curled around it.

Now, after putting up a decent fight, they stand against the building as dark purple webs tangle over them, effectively pinning them down. Julie strains against them as they burn into her skin, pointedly not looking at Caleb who is inches away. Caleb puts a finger to her chin, causing her to look into his eyes. Julie sucks on her teeth, willing herself not to cry any more than she already has. “Quite a shame that such talent, such heart has to go to waste,” Caleb says, before his hand begins to glow in a manner that Julie knows could only lead to her demise.

He’s interrupted, however, by a slew of car alarms going off. Caleb swivels his head to look over at the main road, now realizing that it’s… empty?

Almost moving to walk over, Caleb hesitates just enough for the webs’ strength to weaken, and the boys poof out of their hold. They immediately begin trying to pull the web of magic off of Julie, succeeding in doing so once they notice that Caleb’s attention is no longer on them. He’s in the road now, staring down the horizon line.

“He’s distracted now, let’s poof to the studio to buy some time,” Reggie says, but Luke quickly counters, “Julie can’t poof. We would have to go back down the road, anyway.”

While Luke and Reggie are trying to figure out what to do, Julie’s eyes stray over to Alex, who is now peering around the corner of the building, eyebrows furrowed. He suddenly runs over to the road, and Julie calls after him. The three run to catch up to Alex and stand in terror just a few feet behind Caleb, who is still seemingly frozen in place.

They feel it before they can see it.

The hair on their arms and the backs of their necks begin to stand on end, a quiet humming in the atmosphere causing an adrenaline rush kind of energy around them. The humming thrums into a pulse, concentrating around what Caleb must’ve been looking at; a sharp, sparking green light floating in the air down the road. It grows bigger and bigger, until a silhouette suddenly appears in its place, looking at the ground. “Hey, Caleb!”

Alex’s heart stops when he realizes who it is.

Willie looks up from the ground and begins to make his way over, thunderous step by thunderous step. His eyes shine fully in bright green, almost like the lightning inside of him was leaking out. He reaches forward and a beam of crackling light shoots forward, splitting and clasping itself around Caleb’s wrists in constraint. With rumbling intensity, Willie continues, “You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me my entire afterlife, pretending to care. Every time you stamped someone, you told me it was because they would be dangerous otherwise, that you were just ‘protecting the ghost world’, and then you turn and do it to my friends. You’ve hurt me, you’ve hurt the people I care about, and it doesn’t even matter to you. I don’t even want to know the number of other ghosts you’ve screwed over like you have us.” Willie heaves in a breath, his arm beginning to shake as Caleb tries to overpower him with his own powers. “I can’t let you do this anymore.”

Caleb grits through his teeth, “You don’t get much of a say, William, I own you.”

“Not anymore.” Willie screams again, causing the beam shooting out of his palm to reinforce itself, the sparks around Caleb’s wrists slowly crawling around his skin until it looked like his veins were filled with light. “You aren’t strong enough to beat me, William, I know you more than you know yourself. You can’t do this,” Caleb tries, but Willie just screams louder, drowning him out.

The screams nearly shake the air, causing Julie to lean on Luke for support, with Reggie resting a hand on her shoulder. Alex wants to reach out, to do something, but he knows there’s nothing he really can do to help. He knew Willie was one of a kind, it was obvious from every interaction they’d had up to that point, but he never expected him to be that powerful. It was terrifying, if he was being honest. And Alex didn’t want to be scared of him, especially while he was literally putting his life on the line for them, but it was almost as if Willie was losing control.

Wait.

A small, dwindling purple smoke emits from Caleb’s palms, encircling the cuffs on his wrists, and the green light inside of him dims. Willie is panting in between his screams, running out of energy. Inhaling sharply, Alex doesn’t think twice before bolting over to him, ignoring the protests from his friends.

Alex stands behind him and grips his hands onto Willie’s shoulders, focusing all of his energy into his fingertips, just like he had on that day in the museum. And, just like that day, he screams with Willie, hoping and praying to a god he no longer believes in that it helps, that it works.

It does.

The lightning bursts out at a rapid speed, nearly enveloping Caleb, almost as if it was tearing him apart, atom by atom. It grows brighter, and brighter, and brighter, until—

He’s gone. Small ashes lie in the spot where Caleb once stood, now dissipated into thin air.

Willie collapses to the ground in exhaustion and Alex grasps onto him, as if he’ll disappear himself if he lets go. After a brief moment, Willie takes a sharp breath, wincing in a burning, stinging type of pain, and lets out a breath of relief once it goes away. He knows exactly what that was, he could feel it; his soul was finally back in his body.

Willie looks down at his wrist. The familiar stamp from the Hollywood Ghost Club is still there, however it no longer has its signature purple sheen. It’s black and faded now, like a thirty-year-old tattoo he’s come to regret.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, pulling away, his face the picture of worry. Willie notices then that Julie, Luke, and Reggie are knelt next to him, too, their own expressions almost as bad as Alex’s.

Willie smiles a sad smile. It’s a weak thing, but it’s genuine. “You’re still here.”

Recognition washes over Alex’s face, and he softly lifts his hand to Willie’s chin. “Of course I am. I told you, I’d follow you anywhere, yeah?”

Willie chuckles and ducks his head. “Yeah, well, somehow, you did.”

Alex lightly pulls on his chin so he can look him in the eye, a burning intensity present there that Willie hasn’t seen in, well, thirty years. “We can explain that later, okay? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Willie does a small nod. “I will be.”

Alex pulls him back into a tight hug, and Willie sinks into his arms. He knows they’ll both ask questions later; all that matters right now is that they’re there, that they’ve got each other.

And now, they always will.

#sweet like the thunder on my tongue fic #mari writes #willex #willie jatp #alex mercer #jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex fic #jatp fic

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wonlouvre · 4 years

Text

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 1,787 warnings: mentions of food, skipping a meal, fainting

author’s note: part 2 is here and i am excited! i received the support that some of you have given by liking and reblogging and i appreciate it so much! please do share some of your thoughts. i’d love to hear from you. for some reference on what our Prince Wonwoo wore on this chapter during the first few bits: here.

two: what could have been | masterlist

“What?”

One of these days you’re going to start blaming Wonwoo for the unusual accidents that happen whenever he is around or whenever his name is brought up. It’s a relief that you didn’t trip, again, because you were more than sure that making an abrupt stop while wearing heels can lead to several painful possibilities.

“You okay?” Jeongyeon was quick to hold on to your arm, helping you find your balance again. She’s definitely not risking anymore injuries especially now that there’s no Doctor Jeon around.

“What did you just say?” You repeat as you try to compose yourself and start walking across the hallway like how you were supposed to in the first place.

Jeongyeon blinks at you for a few seconds before gasping, “Oh, right! According to my sources, apparently the long term girlfriend was actually the one for Prince Wonwoo,” she says casually as if she’s just dropping the weather report for the day. “He had plans to propose.”

Propose?

“By sources you mean?” You ask. The lawyer in you is making sure that this is nothing but a baseless rumor and also the rational person in you is making sure your head doesn't get clouded by jealousy.

Me? Jealous? Your left eye twitches at the thought.

“Dr. Kwon also known as Hoshi,” she answers like they have been friends for ten years. “He’s the Prince’s friend from primary school up to medical school.”

“How do you even know this Dr. Kwon?” You ask while narrowing your eyes at her. You are nowhere near done verifying her sources.

Jeongyeon sheepishly smiles before giggling nervously. “Well…”

You sigh. Jeongyeon can be brilliant but she could go overboard at times. “Don’t tell me he works at the same hospital as Wonwoo and you yourself went there?”

“I had to!” She defends, stomping her feet. “You told me to go look up some info and I did. I just wanted to do a good job while I was at it.”

You close your eyes in defeat before pulling her close to whisper a reminder to her ear, “Next time, let’s tone down the enthusiasm, alright?”

She just grins. “No promises.”

Were you threatened by the recent information your assistant just shared to you?

No, of course not.

Were you bothered?

Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent.

You’re bothered because you can’t help but think about what could have been.

What could have been for Wonwoo and this mystery girl. You suddenly feel terrible. All this time you were okay with this arrangement. In fact, you were beyond okay already. But, how about Wonwoo? Sure, maybe you thought he could be against this marriage. But, it didn’t cross your mind what he could have left behind back home. What he had to give up and what he had to let go.

“Hey.”

All your thoughts and worries flushed down the drain in an instant at the sound of the voice you’re starting to grow fond of.

Wonwoo arrived like a breath of fresh air with his light blue button down and jeans. The glasses are a bonus that you are lucky to see for the first time. You weren’t aware that he wore them. In fact, you have never seen him wear casual clothes until today. If you were frowning earlier, you are blushing now because of how good he looks.

“Sorry I’m late,” he sincerely apologizes as he walks towards you. “I’m not gonna lie. I overslept.”

Come to think of it, you have been standing outside this terrace for quite a while now. Thinking too much can be a good distraction to the point that you won’t even notice that you have been waiting.

You cleared the rest of the afternoon to sneak in some wedding planning. Meanwhile, Wonwoo decided to take the night shift yesterday and take today off to join you.

You shake your head and give him a small smile in understanding. “It’s okay. I just arrived too.”

That was a lie, but it doesn’t matter. Especially now, in spite of getting the right amount of sleep, you can tell that he is still tired and sleepy. And, adorable. But you would never let him know that.

“It didn’t look like it though,” he counters, making your brows raise. “You looked like you were already here for a while. A penny for your thoughts?”

Your eyes roll at his teasing tone while he just smirks.

But then, you figured since he already asked, this could be the right time. “Can I ask you something?”

Wonwoo crosses his arms, pretending to contemplate your request. “It depends. Am I in trouble?”

“No,” you deadpan. “You don’t have to answer though. That’s what I can guarantee.”

“Fine by me.” He relaxes his arms to his sides and stands close to the railing you were leaning your body weight against.

Well, okay. Your palms suddenly started to sweat. Maybe it’s a bad idea to pry about his past. What’s the point of bringing it up? What do you need out of this anyway? Why the bother?

Yeah, let’s just not, you decided to drop it but Wonwoo already beat you to it.

“Let me guess,” the Prince noticed your silence and decided to take the matters in his hands. “Is it about my ex-girlfriend?”

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks, embarrassed by how could you let it get this far. “I’m sorry. Nevermind. Let’s just go inside. They’re probably ready for us.”

You were fast to lift your feet from the ground and honestly, if you could, you’d run away and never return. But, Wonwoo was faster. He was faster to grasp your hand and make you stop from taking another step in a heartbeat.

You’re not one to let your head hang low and avoid eye contact, but here you are doing everything in your power to not meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You’re also not one to grow flustered easily. You always know what and how to make the last say.

But again, here you are tight-lipped and wishing to be buried underground.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promises while tilting his head to the side, searching for your eyes. “I’m not making fun of you and I understand that it’s inevitable for this to be not brought up.”

You relent by nodding and finally turning your body to face him. “Okay.”

Wonwoo smiles and caresses the top of your head. “This is not something you should be worrying about.”

His brazen touch made you feel small yet comforted.

“Do you really want to marry me Wonwoo?” You whisper between the two of you.

He blinks then furrows his brows. “What kind of question is that?”

You frown, you’re supposed to give me an answer. “I just thought that maybe it’s better to call it off already before we regret anything in the future.”

“Y/N,” he calls for your name for the first time. “My past relationship is already in the past. I am not dwelling from what happened and what could have been. I am here now and that’s all that matters.”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you scoff and pull yourself away from him.

But Wonwoo just laughs and tightens his hold. He now holds both of your hands and strangely enough, having his hands entwined with yours is nice.

“Why? Does the princess don’t want to marry me?”

“I don’t actually have much of a choice, do I?”

Now it’s Wonwoo’s turn to scoff. “Who’s playing smart now?”

You burst into a fit of giggles and Wonwoo does the same.

It’s kind of scary to feel this way. Feeling so reassured and secured with your relationship with Wonwoo like it was the two of you from the get go. It seems so easy. You are at ease and it terrifies you.

It’s time for work, you slap yourself back to reality. You can’t continue thinking about Wonwoo especially now when you have matters to take care of and clients to satisfy. You sigh and pick up your coffee mug to sip some only to see that it’s already empty.

You quickly reach for your telephone to request for a refill.

“Coffee? Again?” Jeongyeon reprimands before you could even speak. “Your Highness, this is your third cup and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning.”

You ignore her exasperated tone. “I know.”

“How about some bread instead? You’ve had enough caffeine to last the week.”

“Please just bring me one more,” you plead while resting your palm on your forehead, feeling a headache coming up that could actually last the week. “I promise that would be my last cup.”

You can hear Jeongyeon sigh in defeat before muttering a soft okay.

You should have chosen the bread instead of the third cup of coffee because not less than 15 minutes after drinking it, your stomach feels like it’s burning inside by how painful it is. You thought a glass of water can help minimize or dwindle down the pain but it’s of no help.

What’s worse is you suddenly feel hot in spite of the air condition inside your office being on full blast. Your hand brushes against your face and it is wet. Why am I sweating? You quietly groan as another pang of pain hits you. You think you might vomit.

Maybe you should go to the restroom or whatever. For now, you just want to move in the hopes that this uncomfortable and sickening feeling would go away. You push yourself up from your chair with a lot of effort because your body doesn’t seem to have any more intention to cooperate with your mind.

You decided you’d rest at your apartment for a while and just go back in the afternoon on the assumption that you’d be fine by then.

Slowly and painfully, you walk to the huge doors of your office and with every step you take, you’re catching your breath. You reach the door and clutch the knob tightly, desperate to grab some painkillers and just sleep this off.

However, before you could twist the knob and take further steps, you were falling to the ground. Your body doesn’t want to act on your decisions anymore and the pain on your stomach is just way too unbearable, you can’t even stand straight.

And just on time, Jeongyeon opens your door and enters, chirpy as usual, “Your Highness, you have a visi--- Your Highness!”

You were not sure if your eyes could still register what you saw before you blacked out. But, you were positive that you saw the one and only Prince Wonwoo, one moment smiling and the next rushing towards your limp body on the cold tiled floor.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #wonwoo #fic: ifliys

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ssa-montgomery · 3 years

Text

Table For Five

Word Count: 1405

Summary: When Bizzy organises a family dinner Addison invites Meredith and must confront the truth about her sexuality and finally tell her family the truth.

Characters: Meredith x Addison

Warnings: Fluff, a little angst, coming out

A/N: So this was completed as part of the Meddison fic exchange on AO3 hosted by @bobbiejelly. This was written for chzkate over on AO3 and I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you all enjoy :D

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

"Addie? Are you here?" Meredith called out as walked into the on-call room. It was dark in the room, the only source of light coming from the open door and she struggled to make out the other figure lying on a bed on the opposite side of the room. Her pager had gone off just as she walked out of the O.R., a 911 page from Addison. She had immediately rushed to the room Addison told her to meet her in. They had made a rule when they started dating that a 911 page meant when possible, they dropped everything to help the other. A situation where they needed to use this rule had rarely come up so when Meredith saw the page it felt like her heart had dropped into her stomach. She reached out blindly and flicked on the lights, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw Addison sit up from where she had been lying down on one of the beds. "Are you okay what's wrong? What's the emergency?"

"There isn't an emergency," Addison sighed with a shake of her head. Meredith could hear the stress and nerves in her voice as spoke, her voice wavering ever so slightly."Well, there is, just not like someone's dying emergency. I'm having a personal emergency. But somebody might end up dying and that might be me when they find out so you know, emergency."

Meredith could see almost every single one of Addison's anxious red flags. Mid rant, she pushed herself off the bed and started pacing, her words picking up speed along her steps. She was gesturing with her hands and Meredith was beginning to wonder if she was actually talking to her or simply ranting to herself. She stepped forward and caught her hands in hers pulling Addison towards her, running her thumb across the back of her hand. Addison pouted and stomped her foot against the ground after now having her pacing taken away from her. Meredith had to hold in her laughter at her toddler like actions but most of all she was just growing more concerned.

"What's going on Addison? Talk to me, sweetheart." Meredith said softly moving one of her hands to caress her cheek. She melted into the contact and pushed her cheek further into Meredith's touch.

Addison huffed out a deep breath and finally stood still. The contact from Meredith beginning to calm her nerves. She took Meredith's hand in hers and led her back towards the bed and sunk down onto it, leaning back against the wall with her legs pulled up close to her chest. Looking up at Meredith she gave her those puppy dog eyes she always did when she was about to ask her to do something she wouldn't like.

"My family are coming to town and they want us all to have dinner together." Addison started nervously. She bit lightly at the inside of her lip before continuing. "And I may have mentioned that I saw seeing someone and they asked me to invite them. But they don't know that my partner is - well you. Or that I'm-"

Addison's voice trailed off then and she looked at Meredith hopelessly. "Oh my God, what am I going to do?"

"Addie, don't worry," Meredith said reassuringly. She hated seeing Addison so worried and she wanted to do anything she could to cheer her up. She smirked before continuing. "It's not like you're showing up at a family dinner and announcing "This is my new girlfriend, who also happens to be the ex-mistress of the husband who left me and by the way, I think I might be a lesbian."

Addison let out a sarcastic scoff and rolled her eyes before playfully pushing at her shoulder. "Yeah, nice one Grey you're hilarious."

"But seriously Addison." She tilted her face so she was looking her in the eyes again and now her playful tone was gone. She would be lying didn't admit she was slightly nervous at the concept of meeting Addison's family. As far as previous relationships went she didn't have a great track record with meeting mothers. "Whatever happens I will be there with you. I'm not letting you do this alone."

"Thank you, Meredith." Addison leaned in and kissed her gently, brushing the hair out of her face. When she pulled away from the kiss she smiled at her. "So I'll pick you up at 8 tomorrow?"

"Perfect." She grinned quickly kissing her on the tip of her nose, making her scrunch up her face in the most adorable way.

~~~

Addison was nervous, she was willing to admit that. Things with her parents had never exactly been easy and it had been a long time now since she'd seen either of them. Not that any period of time would be long enough when it came to her family. There was no way of knowing how her family would react to the news and that was what scared her the most. They had just arrived with five minutes to spare and were now standing in the lobby waiting to be seated, Meredith by her side. It was a high-end fancy restaurant that would almost change you for simply looking at the menu per her mother's request. It wasn't the kind of place Meredith would visit all that often and she felt a little out of place. It was quiet thankfully, with only a handful of other groups seated around the large room. At least if Bizzy made a scene there wouldn't be many other people around to witness it.

They were escorted by a waitress towards the table where her family were already seated having arrived before them. She could feel Meredith close behind her, always at her shoulder. It brought her a certain level of comfort just knowing that Meredith was always with her, always by her side. Once they arrived at the table they all exchanged the usual stiff and almost awkward welcomes that Addison had grown to expect from her family. It seemed that all eyes were on Meredith.

"Who's your friend dear?" Bizzy smiled, that same waspy smile Addison gotten used to over the years. The one that was less warm and more borderline threatening. One she had become all too familiar with in her youth when Bizzy wanted her to admit to something she already knew.

"Mother this is-" Addison hesitated for a second as she looked over her shoulder at Meredith and then took a deep breath. If this was happening this was happening now, consequences be damned. She wanted everything out in the open, she owed Meredith and their relationship the full honesty it deserved. "This is Meredith Grey, she's my girlfriend. I'm attracted to women."

There was a beat of silence as everyone looked around the table at each other. Addison twisted her hands together nervously, waiting for a reaction, any reaction at all. She could feel the fear settling in the pit of her stomach. Archer then raised his glass of beer and tipped it towards Addison.

"Smart choice sis, never did like that Derek guy all that much anyway." He then downed the last of his drink and called over the waiter to order another. God Addison really could use a drink right about now. There had always been a part of her that thought Archer suspected she liked women when they were growing up but he never said anything and neither did she.

Surprising Bizzy simply nodded, giving Meredith a slight smile and gestured to the empty seats opposite her. As Addison made her way past her she gently grabbed her arm and pulled her down to whisper in her ear. "Next time Addison dear, a warning would be nice."

The Captain just gave a sharp jerk of his head in their direction as his form of acceptance. "Like mother like daughter." He mumbled loud enough for only Bizzy to hear. He then felt a sharp pain in his shin as Bizzy dug her high heel into his leg under the table.

"Please let me know when you're ready to order." A waitress smiled approaching the table with their menus. She laid them down in front of everyone and then placed down a drinks menu. "Can I get anyone any more drinks?"

"Oh God yes please." Addison laughed with relief. "Can I get a Martini and two tequilas please?"

Taglist: @marauder-level-chaos

#greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy fic #greys anatomy fanfiction #addison montgomery one shot #addison montgomery fanfic #addison montgomery #meredith grey #meredith grey fanfiction #meredith x addison fanfiction #meredith x addison #meradd fanfiction #meradd #meddison fanfiction #meddison #merddison

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mskatesharma · 4 years

Note

Hey sorry to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could rec some good sources on learning more about Indian Culture/history/customs. Movies books anything really. I have looked online but well, I always take things on the internet with several grains of salt. And considering I know very little on it, I can't say how reliable the information is. I would like to incorporate elements of Kate being Indian when writing about Kate (and Kate and Anthony) going forward and I want to do it in as respectful and accurate a way as I can. For example, I had a thought of Anthony seeing Kate and her fam celebrate Holi and falling in love with how happy and carefree she is and brushing some paint off her cheek before she dunks some pigment onto him or something 1/2

But considering I've never celebrated Holi or seen it celebrated before I don't think I'd do a good job to write it... I know I get annoyed when people get the basic customs and traditions of my culture wrong. Anyway sorry for rambling TLDR: I would like to learn more about Indian culture and idk where to begin so I would be grateful for any direction you can point me at 2/2

so this has taken me a while to answer because i needed to find time to sit down, think about it and answer it properly. it might seem like a somewhat simple question, but to me, at least, it’s complicated? (i’m probably going to be going over stuff you probably already know, but i’m trying to answer in a complete way.)

i need to start off by saying that my family is from north india (gujarat specifically), and because of that, i have a certain level of privilege, including how north indians and north indian culture is portrayed in the media (obviously including bollywood). i mention this because simone ashley is south indian, specifically tamil, and there is so much prejudice against south indians in general, and this obviously extends to how they are depicted and how their culture is shown in various forms of media; colourism (which simone has spoken out about) is just the start of it. (also, as someone who is north indian, i’m not the best placed person to talk about the prejudice and discrimination faced by south indians.)

a big part of why desi fans are so excited about simone’s casting as kate is because she a dark-skinned woc, and typically, dark-skinned women aren’t cast as romantic leads, and they’re not cast in shows anyway, especially when compared to light-skinned woc. so the fact that she’s going to be a lead in one of the biggest shows on netflix is a big.fucking.deal. in addition, they changed her character’s surname from ‘sheffield’ to ‘sharma’, which on the surface seems like a great idea, but if you look a little deeper, there are so many problems to be found.

(this got long so continues below)

sharma is not a generic indian surname; it’s specifically a north indian hindu name, which throws up questions. is kate going to be a hindu on the show? does this mean her family is from north india? are they going to talk about caste on the show because sharma is a brahmin surname? how are they going to explain kate being in england, and being out in society with the upper crust of the british aristocracy? (because of the time that bridgerton is set, and with them specifically setting up kate as indian, i honestly don’t know how they’re going to explain kate’s presence) i honestly think that the show didn’t think too deeply about it and they chose the name sharma because it starts with ‘sh’ and ~sounds indian. however, it’s thrown up so many questions that they can’t ignore, especially because they tried to explain race in the first season.

i talk about all this because you ask about holi, and incorporating elements of kate being indian when writing. and i’m not trying to be mean, but i would maybe hold off altogether? i need to point out that holi is a hindu festival, and is not specifically tied to being indian. i know i mentioned that sharma is a hindu surname, but we don’t even know if kate is going to be hindu, she may be a christian, or another religion or an atheist. also, because simone is tamil, they may decide to have kate be south indian despite the north indian origins of sharma, if they chose to address it at all. and depending on where in india you are from, and your religion, you will celebrate different festivals. even indians of the same religion celebrate different festivals, and some celebrate occasions at different times (e.g. gujaratis celebrate hindu new year the day after diwali. this isn’t the case for most other hindus. if we take holi, i know that it tends to be celebrated more in north india, and the image you describe isn’t necessarily universal).

there has been a lot in the tags regarding clothing, and seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing, and while i get it, it makes me nervous. personally, i cannot wait to see kate in the same style of dresses that everyone else wore in season one. why? because seeing an indian woman in that period of dress is something i have been longing for. i don’t want to see an indian woman wearing a lengha or a sari or sabyasachi in that time period, i want to see her in a bonnet and empire waistline, because that is something we haven’t seen much of.

also, talking about seeing kate and her family wearing indian clothing has the potential to ‘other’ her, and tbh, can come across sometimes as fetishy, especially when you consider the time the story takes place in, and all the implications of colonialism. (there’s also the fact that unless the show has hired indian costume designers, it would be kinda gross for them to use any kind of indian clothing, and that includes adding elements to the era-typical dress that i’m hoping for.)

i’m going to be honest, i’ve seen pieces of fanart with kate wearing a sari and other indian clothing, while anthony has been in typical regency dress, and it makes me uncomfortable. it gives off coloniser vibes, and that’s a dynamic i have absolutely no interest in. there’s also the fact that i’ve seen art where simone as kate has been shown as light-skinned, to the point where she appears to be the same colour as anthony, and i mean, hello?!

full disclosure, i’ve made some posts regarding headcanons and music that i should have thought twice about. i’ve reblogged stuff that i should have thought more about before i did so. why? because they had overtones of north indian privilege, and/or orientalism. being indian (wherever in india that is) is part of someone’s identity, it’s not a gimmick to sprinkle onto things, and it’s not something to festishise, and i think, at least from what i’ve seen, that is the concern a lot of desi fans have, even if that’s not the intention of the original posters.

i realise i’ve gone on a seemingly massive tangent, but what i’m trying to say is, i don’t think there is a need to specifically reference kate being indian, especially when when writing canon-era fic, even more so when you consider we don’t know how the show is going to address it. now, i’m not saying i have faith in the show when it comes to kate and her ~indian surname, just that until we know how the show addresses it, i don’t see why it needs to be referred to? i understand why one might want to, but i just think there are waaay too many potential pitfalls, and the risk of coming across as orientalist/patronising/fetishy too high. some fans have fears when it comes to kate sharma and how she is presented, and for good reason.

sorry for not answering how you expected, and not giving you the resources you asked for (which, tbh, i’m not sure i would know where to start). i get what you were trying to ask, and i thank you for asking in the first place, but the question felt a little unfair tbh. but, i would encourage to read up on orientalism, also about the privilege that north indian hindus have, and honestly, the british colonisation of india.

ETA: i put this in the reblog but im going to add it here as well

also, something i forgot to add, even though i talk about north indians/north india and south indians/south india, it is obviously more complicated than that. there are many different states in india, and even then, different regions within those states will have different customs to each other. and then you have to factor in religion. likewise, there’s no one language that everyone in india speaks. basically, it’s not one universal culture that can be ‘boiled down to the essentials’.

#kate sharma #kate sheffield #kathony #bridgerton #anthony x kate #kate x anthony #simone ashley #kanthony #if i've got something wrong please PLEASE correct me #also if i've forgot to say something that needs to be said #idk anymore #i am once again wishing they hadn’t tried to explain race during season one #look at all the stuff it’s thrown up #ask

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Note

Just passed on my tl that post about Sam/satin/Sansa and that that anti reblogged your post to add that quote about willowy creatures 😭 and I have to remind myself that this is the same fandom who reads jon saying that only a monster would give a child to the flames something like that, followed by a daniela chapter where her dragon BURNS A CHILD and says “if they are monsters so am I” and still manages to believe jon will love this girl. But a willowy creature? Never.

Hello Anon,

This post? The ‘willowy creature’ quote was added to the original post (@istumpysk), they missed my addition I think...

They always use that quote to claim “Jon loves warrior women and ‘consequently’ he hates ladies.” That’s their "clever logic"... LOL

I wrote about the ‘willowy creature’ issue in this post:

Val

Repeat after me: Val is not a warrior woman. Again: Val is not a warrior woman. One more time: Val is not a warrior woman. If you don’t believe me, then read this:

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a “warrior woman” per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not.

[Source]

But you may say, ¿What about the “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” quote?

Well, as GRRM has stated many times, all his POVS are “Unreliable Narrators”. Being from a “warrior culture” doesn’t make you automatically a “warrior woman”. But here is Jon Snow “deciding” that Val was a “warrior princess”. Once again, the contrast, the dichotomy in one single person: ¿A warrior like Arya, a princess like Sansa? Not that Arya has ever fought in a war, but you get my point. And Sansa was created following the princess archetype.

I will show you one of my favorite Jon’s passages that will serve us to read “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair” line with a better and more revealing light:

I call this passage the “Jon -It’s nothing special- Snow”. Or as we say in Spanish when we can’t get what we really want: “Al cabo que ni quería”, that can be translated as “I didn’t even want it anyway”. Let’s see:

"Oh, I learn things everywhere I go.” The little man gestured up at the Wall with a gnarled black walking stick. “As I was saying … why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what’s on the other side?” He cocked his head and looked at Jon with his curious mismatched eyes. “You do want to know what’s on the other side, don’t you?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jon said. He wanted to ride with Benjen Stark on his rangings, deep into the mysteries of the haunted forest, wanted to fight Mance Rayder’s wildlings and ward the realm against the Others, but it was better not to speak of the things you wanted. “The rangers say it’s just woods and mountains and frozen lakes, with lots of snow and ice.”

—A Game of Thrones - Jon III

I mean… COME ON! This is one of the most telling passages to know, to really know Jon’s true nature, and it’s very, very similar to the quote about “the warrior princess and the willowy creature that only brushes her hair”:

They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

“Some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.” Nah, it’s nothing special, I didn’t even want it anyway, not for me, no.

Do I have to say more???

Actually, yes, I have.

Jon Snow does really want a lady. Jon Snow does really want to be a knight and rescue a maiden. Jon Snow does really want a lady to love and be loved back by her. Here some evidence:

Jon Snow wished that his mother were a highborn lady: “Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.”

Jon Snow wanted to be a hero like the Prince Aemon Dragonknight. The same Prince Aemon that jousted in a tourney, won it, and crowned his sister and lady love “Queen of Love and Beauty”, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress”.

Jon Snow tried to comfort Gilly with courtesy: “Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower.” “That’s pretty.” He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her”.

Jon Snow put Ghost between Ygritte and him and remembers that knights put their swords between their ladies and themselves, something that is straight out from the courtly love book: “After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword”.

Jon Snow imagined romancing Ygritte as if she were a lady: “If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us”.

Jon Snow wished for a domestic life in Winterfell, with his wife and children: I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. […] I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. […] Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb. He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily”.

Jon is a romantic that called his mare “sweet lady”.

Jon Snow closer friends in the Night’s Watch are Samwell Tarly and satin, they are literally male!Sansas.

Jon remembers fondly Sansa’s more feminine and ladylike traits: her romantic nature, her courtesies, her singing.

It’s also worth to mention that, despite Val’s beauty and physical attractiveness, Jon Snow, once again, appreciates her being maternal and singing to Gilly’s son, but was turned off by Val saying she would kill Princess Shireen:

“I have heard you singing to him.”

“I was singing to myself. Am I to blame if he listens?” A faint smile brushed her lips. “It makes him laugh. Oh, very well. He is a sweet little monster.”

“Monster?”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. “You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …”

“Greyscale.”

“The grey death is what we call it.”

“It is not always mortal in children.”

“North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago.”

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. “Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child.”

“I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

Wait a minute! Val was “singing to herself” like Jon’s memory of Sansa “singing to herself” while brushing out Lady’s coat???

Where did Jon get this idea of “some willowy creature that only brushes her hair” from??? It could be from his half sister Sansa, a literal princess, now trapped in a tower, that always brushed her hair and even brushed out her direwolf’s fur???

“She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone” —Sansa

“Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone.” —Eddard

I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. —Catelyn

He thought […] Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. —Jon

And I also suspect that when Jon said this about Val:

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

He was remembering another pretty girl, princess like, next to a direwolf, looking as though they belong together.

A young beautiful girl, that everyone considers a princess, next to a direwolf???

Val is a beautiful young woman, Sansa is a beautiful young maiden.

Val has long blonde hair the color of dark honey which she wears in a braid. Val actually take care of her hair, enough to braid it, like Sansa that always brushes it. And if you google “dark honey” hair color you will find a variety of reddish brown (auburn) and reddish blonde hair colors.

Val has high sharp cheekbones, like Sansa.

Val’s eyes are pale grey or blue. Again the grey/blue eyes pattern…

Val is slender with a full bosom, like Sansa.

So?

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. […] It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself.

Think about it!

***

Thanks for your message ♡

#jonsa #anon asks

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mandos-lightningbeforethunder · 3 years

Text

Start Again - Chapter Two (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: You try and find your way off Puvo and get way more than you bargain for.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None this time around.

Author’s Note: This chapter sits at about 2.8k words, hope you enjoy it! Feel free to reblog :)

CHAPTER TWO - THE JOURNEY

The credits weigh heavy in your pocket. The communicator clipped to your belt swings back and forth as you tread through the dense forest. You laugh at the thought of snatching the communicator from the belt of the pilot. He hadn’t even noticed, too enamored talking about himself. It was the first successful step in your journey.

Valara had been truthful in her word. She offered a distraction and excuse to her grandmother for your absence. But she also relied on your promise that you would check in the moment you left Puvo’s atmosphere. How you managed to do that went unspoken, but this was the first step to figuring out your past as far as you were concerned.

The step into the water reminds you of your destination. The tiny watering hole seems almost lifeless and you doubt yourself and the possibility of escape. What if the watering hole was abandoned, long before you even arrived on Puvo? The map you had managed to look at was older than you, so it was possible it depicted outdated information.

Approaching with cautious steps, you round the pond and venture toward the building. It’s small, the map made it seem larger, but it couldn’t have been bigger than Valara’s hut. Looking around, the flatness of nearby vegetation clues you in that a ship had landed here recently. When the next one would come, you weren’t sure, but you needed to remain hopeful.

Pushing on the door, it creaked and announced your presence. A Twi’lek bartender looked at you, eyeing the communicator on your belt. The other patron, a human, simply stared before returning to nurse their drink.

“You lost, traveler?” the Twi-lek bartender asks, pushing a glass of water toward you. You sat at the edge of the bar and looked around. You certainly felt lost. The watering hole was quickly becoming a disappointment.

“No,” you murmur, taking the glass and bringing it to your lips. “I’m actually looking for other travelers, hoping to hitch a ride.”

A scoff. “Good luck finding any travelers here. Last one I saw left a good week or so ago. Puvo hasn’t been traveling point in the galaxy ever since the Empire fell, no reason for anyone to stop here.”

You watch as the bartender wipes down the counter, then a glass, before wiping down the counter again. The routine repeats and the bartender repeats it out of boredom.

“You need a ride somewhere?” the human next to you asks. You turn to look at them, watching as they throwback the drink in front of them. Internally, you cringe. Perhaps someone sober would be more ideal, but this might be your only chance.

“Do you have a ship?” you ask. There hadn’t been any outside when you first came in. Maybe you missed it?

“Ha!” The bartender laughs. You sit back in shock at the sudden outburst. “Dinek having a ship? In his dreams, he lost that ship ages ago in some bet. Now he’s stuck here as my only loyal customer.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out. Valara may have been right. You weren’t fit to leave Puvo and here you were, being denied.

“I’ve got a ship,” a voice says behind you. You’re startled but turn to the source anyways, praying that the bartender won’t deny this person.

Out of the corner of the room, another human appears. You hadn’t seen him, but maybe him sitting in the dark acting all brooding and mysterious hadn’t exactly caught your eye. You look at him, eyes narrowing as you search him. He seems to be doing the same, but his face relaxes, and his hand reaches out in a gesture to greet you.

“Kam,” he introduces, smiling. You take his hand, and he shakes it gently before it returns to his side. “Hannser.”

“You’re a pilot?” you ask, after introducing yourself.

“Well, sort of, I inherited a ship from my parents. It’s not much really, but I’ve been learning to fly with it.” Kam replies.

Another internal cringe. You’re limited to two options. Wait to see what other options arrive, if any? Or fly with an inexperienced pilot with a possible junk ship?

“Where do you want to go?” Kam asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. You haven’t even given him an answer yet on whether you want to fly with him. Your other options were severely lacking, however.

“Anywhere. I just need to get of Puvo,” you say. Kam seems to accept your answer before he eyes the communicator on your belt. “My friend wants to make sure I get off the planet safely.” You say, showing him the communicator and its lack of tracking capabilities.

“Relax,” Kam laughs, shaking his head, “come on, the ships just outside in the tree line.” He walks over to his corner, grabbing a bag and swinging it over his shoulder.

You look back at the bartender, who seems to trust Kam’s word. The glass you had been previously drinking from is now wiped down and the counter has a fresh swipe from the cloth. Back to his routine, you thought.

Kam leads you through the doorway, even holding the door open for you as you pass through the threshold. He seems kind, but if Valara had taught you anything, you still needed to be mindful of people’s kindness.

The ship you see at the end of the trees is both as expected and unexpected. It’s clearly been through years of use, the paint chipped and worn. The engine cowlings showed signs of recent maintenance, which is promising. Approaching the ship, a walkway emerged to the ship’s deck. There were two sets of controls as you sat down in one of the seats, Kam sitting next to you.

Pressing a button, the ship choked a second before the engines turned over and hummed to life. Kam smiled at you, seeming to sense your nerves as the ship rose off the surface of Puvo.

“The hyperdrive is a bit wonky as of late, so I apologize for the rough ride. I heard there are jobs on Tatooine of all places, so that’s where we’re headed, that okay with you?”

Tatooine. Nothing but desert. That was certainly a change from the grassland of Puvo.

You shouted in shock as the ship leaped into hyperspace.

Somehow, you managed to land on Tatooine without dying. Venturing off the ramp of Kam’s ship, you looked back at him as he pressed a switch and the ramp rose behind you. You offered to pay the hanger fees, in exchange for him flying you off Puvo. He agreed to the deal and you knew that this would most likely be where your paths would diverge. Kam needed work and you needed a start on figuring out your past.

The bustling town of Mos Eisley lies just ahead of you both.

You stuck close to Kam, having never been to another planet before. At least, that you could remember. The pilot didn’t seem to mind as you shuffled the busy streets together.

“Ever since Fett took over what remained of the Hutt regime, Tatooine has turned itself around,” Kam informs you. His words seem true. Valara had told you that Tatooine was a dangerous planet, filled with creatures who only sought out money and pain. Yet the sight you were seeing currently was the opposite.

It was an experience you had never been through. Several voices were shouting, shopkeepers eager to sell their products. Beggars reaching out to the few who would enlighten them. Children ran between the crowds of people, laughing and shouting. Kam turned to look at you to make sure you were still following him.

It was then you got a good look at the pilot. Fair skin and brown hair curled tight against his scalp. His blue eyes were youthful and full of life, but there was a kindness in them as well. Deep down, you’re glad you chose to fly with him rather than wait. He was much younger than you, give or take a couple of years. Thinking on it, he probably wasn’t much older than the son you had seen in your nightmares.

The cantina was loud and vibrating with life. When you entered just behind Kam, you took a quick look at your surroundings. This time, the creature manning the bar was a droid. It didn’t have the same routine as the bartender back on Puvo. It took orders and cleaned without so much as a chirp.

“I’m going to go find some work. May the force be with you,” Kam says, giving a half-hearted salute as a means of goodbye. You watch as he turns and disappears into the crowd.

“And with you,” you mumble out. You doubt he heard you.

A patron is heckling the droid, probably trying to get answers but the droid’s basic programming only allows brief conversation. Nothing of importance will come from it. Still, you need time to think of a plan. You sit at the bar and wait for your turn, but the droid is still occupied by the patron holding it hostage.

You look around again, trying to find Kam in the crowd of people. You spot him in the corner, chatting up a Twi’lek and you laugh slightly. It’s none of your business, but that didn’t look like work.

“To drink, ma’am?” The droid finally asks, stealing your attention away.

“Um, water, if you have any,” you say. The droid doesn’t display emotions and yet you can feel its confusion on your simple order. This is a cantina, after all, people come here to drink their sorrows away.

The glass is pushed towards you and you take it, lifting it to your lips. You pause, just as everyone else does when the cantina grows quiet. Patrons stare at the doorway and you turn to look with them.

A Mandalorian.

He ignores the attention and walks to the bar, leaning against it just a few feet away from you. The droid turns its attention to the Mandalorian.

“I’m in need of work, any jobs available?” he asks. The volume in the cantina returned to the previous levels, but your attention remained.

“I’m afraid not,” The droid replies, cleaning a glass. “The Guild is gone. There may be shipment work down at the shipyards.”

The Mandalorian seemed agitated by the droid’s answer. Maybe this was your chance. You had the funds, if he had a ship, he could take you anywhere you needed to go. Especially if those places had answers to your past.

“How much do these shipments pay?” The Mandalorian asks.

“I’m unsure. The payments range on the volume of shipments and weight. However, I haven’t heard anyone jovial about their rate of pay when completing such a job. You’re better off trying to find what remains of the Guild, bounty hunter.” The droid replies.

The Mandalorian lowers his helmet and what sounds like a frustrated sigh breaks through his helmet’s vocoder. Someone like him is better off as a bounty hunter anyways, you couldn’t imagine the talk if someone received their shipment from a Mandalorian.

“I can give you work,” you offer. The Mandalorian looks at you, his T-visor piercing into you.

“I’m not a taxi service.” He laments, standing up. You look at him, studying him. There’s a long spear strapped across his back. The hilt of a weapon swings back and forth on his hip. A closer look and the memory of a saber igniting fills your senses. You take a deep breath.

“I have credits. A lot of them,” you reach into your pocket, fishing out your bag of credits. He takes the offering and peers into the pouch, probably counting the amount.

“Where do you need to go?” He asks. Yes, he’ll take the deal, you think.

“I need to find my son,” you say. “I don’t know where he is. But I’ve heard stories about your people. I think you could help me find him. All I have are these broken memories of who I was before the Empire. Finding him could mean finding out who I am.”

The Mandalorian’s mood seems to change. In fact, he had gone stiff at the mention of your son. He tossed the pouch of credits back to you before a sigh broke through the vocoder.

“Keep the credits. I’ll find other methods of payment,” he says. “I’m at the hanger furthest from here, probably next to the ship you arrived on.” He gestures to where Kam is sitting.

Oh, he’s good, you think. You nod and pocket the pouch of credits. He pushes off the bar, turning to leave the cantina. He’s not expecting you to follow right away, but he knows that you will.

Readjusting your bag over your shoulder, you take one last look at Kam. He seems to be enjoying the company of the Twi’lek on his arm. Turning to the droid, you reach into the pouch and pull out a couple of credits.

“For the pilot, in the corner over there, please,” You say to it. It reaches out and grasps the credits before a hatch opens and it places the credits in there.

“You have my word.” The droid states, turning to serve another customer.

The Mandalorian is waiting for you outside. His armor glints in the setting suns as he pushes off the wall of the cantina. There he begins the walk toward the hanger with you following just behind him.

“I’m sorry to hear about your son,” He says. The alleyway has grown quiet, the bustling life of Mos Eisley getting further behind the two of you.

“I don’t remember him much actually,” you say, trying to comfort yourself. “Where did you get that saber?”

He looks down at the weapon attached to his hip. He removes it from his belt, holding it in the palm of his hand. He looks uncomfortable. The stories that Valara told you spoke of warriors who wielded the sabers as if it were another limb. The Mandalorian, however, holds it as if it burns.

“It’s complicated,” he says. “A story for another time.”

You nod at that, stopping as he approaches the ship. It’s larger than Kam’s and newer. A post-Empire ship, you think.

“Back so soon, Mando?” A woman shouts. She’s on the shorter size, easily dwarfed by the Mandalorian’s size. Her curly brown hair frames her aged face, and she stands surrounded by her platoon of little maintenance droids.

“I found work, Peli,” The Mandalorian says, gesturing to you. Peli’s eyes meet yours and in the darkness of the setting suns, you can see them narrow as she studies you.

“Another stray?” Peli starts, but she pauses in her words. Sighing she looks at the Mandalorian and then at you again. “The Idrionna is all set as far as repairs go. Take care of it will ya? Don’t need to have another Razor Crest incident.” Peli mumbles, turning away from you and walking further into the hanger without so much as another word.

“Peli Motto,” the Mandalorian supplies. You nod and walk toward his ship, Idrionna. “I paid Peli for the night, so if you don’t mind, we can leave tomorrow at dawn.”

Tomorrow at dawn. You’ll need to get a message out to Valara about your whereabouts, to let her know you’re safe. She’s probably already freaking out, you think. You had promised to send her a transmission went you had left Puvo’s atmosphere. Yet here you were on a completely different planet and planning on leaving again tomorrow.

The cargo hold of the ship is small but still sizeable. It probably works for the Mandalorian, who travels alone. There’s a hallway that goes further into the ship, but you’re unsure of what exactly it leads to. A closet, maybe weapons storage?

“There’s a cot here,” the Mandalorian offers. It works almost like a bunk, embedded in the wall. You stare at the sad state of the cot, it doesn’t look as comfortable as the one back on Puvo, but it will have to do. The mattress is small, the blankets look worn. “I’ll be on the ship’s deck all night if you need me. Just,” he pauses, “give me a heads up if you do.”

“Thank you,” you say to him. You offer him your name, realizing that you hadn’t even told him back at the cantina. “What can I call you?”

“Mando is fine,” is all he says. In the darkness of the ship, you hear his boots ping off the ladder. He’s gone up to the flight deck for the night.

You sit on the cot and contemplate the choices you’ve made in the past day or so. You’re hoping the sleep will come easier tonight. If you were to get nightmares, you hoped that they gave you more answers than questions this time around.

Read Chapter Three - The Reminder here!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin #start again #the mandalorian spoilers

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ivyglow · 4 years

Text

More than friends | Carter Hart

A/n: Sooo, I was supposed to be done with this piece before our win last night, but my laptop keeps stopping, and the new one only arrives this week, in the meantime I’m stuck with this one and taking longer than ever to write the requests. Anyway, thank you for the patience, and if you want to support my writing, you can always like, reblog and share my posts with a friend you think might like it.

Shout out to Tori for the amazing job proofreading this piece. You’re the best, @guentzgoal

PS. The songs mentioned in this chapter are Hozier (work song) and Ed Sheeran (friends).

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of Friday’s mess aka 5-0 against the Canadiens.

Summary: You’re the media management to the Philadelphia Flyers, and during the bubble time, you get closer to Carter being the person he runs to after the terrible game that day. You two finally realize something more developed between the friendship.

When everything started to crumble down, he wished for you. He’d imagined that you were probably in your room cuddled up with a bunch of blankets listening to your Hozier-favorites playlist while sipping cold tea. Carter occasionally even wished for everything to be a nightmare, that he was just sleeping on your couch while you watched one of your favorite horror movies, any different situation would be better than the current disaster happening.

He couldn’t help but blame himself for every little thing.

He was the one that let the puck reach the net four times, he thought.

Somehow his head made him sure of this thought when he was pulled off the ice to the bench. He was angry, afflict, and all he wanted was for the team to score at least once or twice, so the loss wouldn’t be as awful as it was feeling at the time.

But as you would sometimes say to him, “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” and even more than to hear your strange sayings, Carter liked to internalize them, because usually, they were great instructions for life. And to think that “life is no pony farm” was useful in times like this, it reminded him that it doesn’t matter how much he wished or worked, sometimes, it wasn’t meant to be. However, it didn’t erase your feelings, and that’s why he was fuming when he closed the door and went to the locker room.

He tried to look unbothered enough to the media on the aftergame conversation, but on the inside, Carter was drowning in stress and guilt. During the drive back to the hotel, he thought about texting you to let you know he was crashing in your room that night, but he got carried away reading what people were thinking about his performance in the game.

Most of them hated it.

And so did he.

Carter was thinking about how poorly he played when he knocked at your door, and you probably thought the same, but Carter wanted, no, he needed to see you and hear you, and he was sure you wouldn’t let him down. Your presence always did wonders for him and his self-esteem. He would probably hear “das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” for the hundredth time, talk about how shitty he was feeling and let you caress his hair, and only this itself would make his day a little better.

When the door opened to show you wearing a bathrobe, Carter lost his air for a couple of seconds. The mop of curls wet sitting on the top of your head, the dark skin, long lashes, full lips...everything about you was perfect to him, and he cheesily thought that maybe in another lifetime you were his queen and he would bow and adore you like you were the most perfect thing to walk the earth.

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her” Hozier was softly playing inside your room.

Carter thought about what to say, but nothing seemed to be enough, nothing made justice to how he was feeling on the inside, but he knew by the look in your eyes that you understood everything, every little detail, every bruise, and every deep and shaky breath.

You took the bag from his shoulders and dropped it on the side of the door, before grabbing his hand and bringing his body closer. You watched the whole game while working on some management reports, as part of the media management team. You wished you were there. Nevertheless, just like the hockey team, everyone had a specific task, and yours today was writing and studying some more essential ideas discussed previously. You were not expecting Carter to show up at your door so soon. You knew he would eventually come around, and Carter said himself that he preferred to be close to you whenever he felt bad because you knew exactly when to ramble about yourself to take his mind off whatever was bothering him and when to listen to him and give advice.

As soon as his scent hit your nose, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the hug. He was warm, and his hair was still wet from the shower, the fabric of his suit brought some kind of comfort when it came in contact with your skin and all you wanted to do was hold him until all his anguish was over.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you whispered, peppering kisses along the exposed skin of his neck and jaw, the available surfaces when you crushed against him.

You felt Carter nod his head, before finally putting a small space between the two of you.

“I’m sorry I forgot to text you to ask if I could just show up and…”

“Hey, it’s fine, we’re friends, no need to stress over this. And yes, you can crash here tonight as long as nobody notices, you know,” you traced his nose and the crease in his eyebrows.

And as much as you noticed every little detail of him, you were not able to see the way his face twitched when you said “friends” because as much as he loved your friendship, he got himself wishing for more in times like these.

“Thank you,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You disappeared to take off the moisturizer from your hair, and Carter took the time to make himself comfortable by taking his jacket off along with his shoes, letting the blankets on the couch engulf his body.

“Das Leben ist kein Ponyhof,” you whispered when you came back. Now dressed in your pajamas and with your hair slightly damp, you lay beside your favorite goaltender on the couch. He dropped his head to your shoulders and made himself small, so you could take care of him the way he liked. And so with your favorite playlist playing and your fingers massaging gently at his scalp Carter fell asleep.

He woke up with your voice distant, and a playlist still going, although it was not the Hozier one anymore. The room was darker than when he lay there, the only source of light coming from the open windows and one lamp, he noticed that you had lit a candle on the coffee table and that there was also a cup of water sitting there.

Carter felt cared for and loved. He loved how your little details always made him feel better.

“I called room service, they’re getting our dinner here soon…” you appeared in the room again with your cellphone in your hands. “What’s up?” you asked, laying beside Carter one more time.

The distance was little, and he thought about the way your friendship worked. It felt like more than friendship, and Carter took his time thinking about how he never sleeps with his friends like he sleeps with you. The way his friends cared about him but never the way you did. How he wanted to kiss you goodbye every time you parted ways and how he wished to just lay with you for as long as possible, just taking your scent in, enjoying your company, and your very specific playlists.

“Hartsy?” you called again, confused with how he just zoned out. “Is everything okay? What are you thinking about?”

He shifts on the couch, and now your faces are even closer. “Nothing...I was...this is a good song, never heard it.”

You chuckled before directing your attention to the lyrics playing as background noise. Your heart did a little double-take, and you couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the face in front of yours.

“Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don't treat me like you do. Well, I know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you. No, my friends won't love me like you.”

You shivered when his thumb found your chin bringing your face even closer. It slipped through your face drawing little dots connecting every far end. You enjoyed the feeling, and though his hands were calloused, the pad of his fingertips felt soft and comfortable against your skin.

“Are we friends, or are we more?” his voice was so low you were sure if you weren’t staring at his lips, you would not understand.

And when his thumb found your lips opening slightly, you closed your eyes, too overwhelmed with the new sensations to bother with an answer. You wanted him to crash the space between your lips and finally dive in, you wanted him to be more than friends, and you wanted to comfort him after everything.

You wanted Carter and Carter only.

You wanted to be more than friends.

Carter tested the waters by dipping his face and caressing your nose with his. He liked the way your faces seemed to fit in place, and he was determined to kiss you when the bell rang loudly in your room.

“I have a saying for this,” you breathed out, wanting to laugh about the situation. “Aller Anfang ist schwer.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’ll let you know later,” you fooled before getting up and going to answer the door.

Your legs were like jelly, and your mind was working at a fast pace, but still, you tried to keep composure.

Eating dinner after that interaction shouldn’t be easy, but it was for you and Carter, so he handled it so well it made you even more sure about how much you liked him. It wasn’t a real talkative dinner, but considering that hours prior, Carter was like a sad puppy, to see him smiling shyly at you was a victory.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked when you finished.

“You already did,” you tried to mess with him, and Carter rolled his eyes before getting on the couch again. “Of course you can, Hartsy.”

And so the rest of the night was just you and Carter randomly talking and listening to your playlist. He didn’t ask his question again, and neither did you, but you knew he was thinking about it when you went to bed. Especially laying there side by side.

You were used with his naked chest and with his sleep pants, but it felt different that night, and the question keeps replaying in your head. So this time, you were the one to voice it.

“Are we friends?” you turned to him.

Carter sat in front of you, grabbing your hands. His fingers were cold against your palm, and you shivered one more time that day.

“We’ve been ‘friends’ like this for more than a year, and even though I don’t know the turning point I know we are more than that and have been for a long time now,” his voice was firm like he was sure about what he was saying as he thought about it before. Your eyes dropped to your intertwined fingers, and you took a long breath before Carter started talking again. “Friends just sleep in another bed, and friends don’t treat me like you do...everything my friends do to me feels different when it comes to you.”

It was the blink of an eye before your lips were connected, and you tried containing the growing smile between your lips. Carter’s lips were soft against yours, he felt like a summer day, one you waited a whole year for, and when it finally happened, it felt surreal. It wasn’t weird kissing him. It wasn’t odd sleep laying on top of him that night because it felt natural, it wasn’t anything new for the two of you. You were friends at the start, sure, but at some point, it turned into more, and you both handled it like it was only a friendship. You were happy to finally realize it had been more between each word, each interaction, each cheek kiss, and hug.

Sleep came easy that night, for you and him.

And even though his severe loss earlier, Carter felt valid.

You were there, you were his number one fan winning or losing, and he was happy he got to have a stable relationship with you.

“Do you have a saying for that?” he asked jokingly.

“Unfortunately, no,” you held his face close, lips centimeters away. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to spend time with sayings when I can spend time kissing you,” you confessed.

He chuckles, “Suddenly, life feels like a pony farm.”

You can find more of my work here

#carter hart #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #carter hart imagine #philadephia flyers #flyers #black!reader #friends to lovers #nhl imagine #mels writing

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aspenflower17 · 4 years

Text

Finding You (Part 11 of ??)

Hey everybody! I am back with another update! This one’s a bit shorter, but with the holidays coming, my brain’s been a bit fried lately 😅

I also have two other wip’s that have been trying to grab my attention, so keep an eye out for those! I do want to say that the angel event never happened in this story. My Simeon, Michael and Diavolo never did that. That being said, I want to write something for the angel event to try to... finish it and explore it a bit more.

For people who might be stubbling across this here is the link for Part One.

Tags for le people: @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling

Satan/F!Mc

Word Count: 1,390

Mc yawned, eyes zoning out as she stared at her scrambled phoenix eggs. She had stayed up way too late at the ball, and when she had finally been able to sleep, she had another dream about Satan, this one about helping him make dinner for all of his brothers. While it had been pleasant, she was still feeling a little melancholy from it.

Michael sighed, Luke rolling his eyes a bit before asking, “Michael, is everything okay?”

“Well, I’m trying to figure out how I offended Satan last night.”

Mc perked up a bit at the mention of his name as Luke continued, “What’d you say?”

“Well, someone pointed him out as the Satan, so I decided to go over and talk to him, and just wanted to confirm his identity, so I asked if he was Lucifer’s son.”

All sounds stopped at that point. Mc looked up to see everyone else in the room staring at Michael. Even Barbatos raised an eyebrow.

“And you’re still alive?”

Mc wasn’t sure who asked the question because no one had moved when she tried to figure out the source.

“Am I wrong about it?” Michael asked, genuinely confused.

“It’s… difficult to explain,” Diavolo said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Why?” Mc asked.

“Well, he was born from Lucifer’s wrath. Satan, from what the others have told me, feels like he owes his existence to Lucifer and Lucifer’s pride doesn’t allow him to say otherwise, which just irritates Satan even more. Whenever someone reminds Satan of that connection, he… Well, let’s just say that demon was in a coma for a month. So, we don’t bring it up here. I’m amazed we didn’t have a fight break out last night honestly.”

Michael’s eyes widened in understanding as Diavolo spoke, “Seems I was very fortunate last night,” then, after a moment, “Should I apologize to him?”

“I would probably suggest against it, unless you have a good opportunity to. It could come across as even more demeaning.”

“Seems I have a lot to learn about how to properly interact with demons,” Michael chuckled uncomfortably.

“Did you ever end up being about to speak with Lucifer?” Diavolo asked.

“No. He ended up evading me the whole night,” Michael sighed.

“Well, maybe I’ll have to invite the brothers over for dinner sometime,” Diavolo mused, then after thinking for a bit and pulling out his DDD, “Yes, I think I’ll do that. Though… Mc, would you be willing to play something for us? I know you’ve been working on that piano piece.”

“I will definitely for you all. It probably won’t be that piece since it’s not finished yet.”

“Whatever you can do should be fine. Sometimes I just need to give them a good incentive to come,” Diavolo smiled, typing away on his DDD.

A bit further into dinner, Diavolo’s DDD dinged, “I have a date set for dinner! We shall have it in three days!”

“Isn’t that a little soon?” Michael asked.

“Of course not! All that needs to be done on my side is make sure there’s enough food for everyone plus Beelzebub.”

“Ah, he still eats a lot does he?” Michael asked.

“Well, as the Avatar of Gluttony, I’d say he eats more than “a lot”,” Diavolo laughed.

“... How much does he eat now?” Michael asked, looking concerned.

“Well, let’s just say Lucifer and I have had serious discussions before about if the Devildom can sustain his level of hunger.”

“He always had an appetite in the Celestial Realm, but…” Michael sat back looking concerned.

“Don’t worry. Lucifer and I have a couple different plans on how to keep him and the rest of the Devildom fed,” Diavolo smiled.

“What about the others? How have they changed?”

“Well, you’re just going to have to find out in three days.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc stared at the envelope on her desk. She was going to save the letter for later, not quite ready to read the contents yet. Her thoughts drifted back to part of her conversation with Mammon.

“I got ta go ta ya art show with Satan. I was really impressed with ya art. Satan was explainin’ a lot of it ta me since it was my first show.”

“He was?” Mc asked, the disappointment from their first meeting still fresh.

“Yeah. I know he’s really impressed by ya art, and all.”

“Ah. Good to know,” Mc said, tone noncommittal.

“Yeah. He’s actually a pretty good guy. Well, for a demon anyway. He just struggles a bit expression’ himself sometimes.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. I know he’s been havin’ a rough time lately with… everythin’ goin’ on.”

“Is that right?” Mc could feel some of the worry she’d been holding to dissipate with his words.

“MmmHmm,” Mammon smiled at her, but he blanched seeing something happening behind her, “Uhh, I’ll be back, ‘k? I gotta take care of somethin,” and with that he disappeared into the crowd for a bit.

Mc picked up the letter, and opened it:

Dear Jane,

I am so glad you decided to read my letter. I would like to apologize for my behavior the other day. Though there’s really no excuse for my rude behavior, I’ve been dealing with some personal issues lately, and I ended up making those your problem.

I wanted to tell you that I do remember you from before. I remember you called the fleeing demons a stampede. I remember you had a large leaf stuck in your hair. You also mentioned feeling very lonely sometimes. I don’t remember what I put in that letter, I wanted to let you know your thirst for knowledge really impressed me, and reminded me of myself. If I was able to help you on your quest for knowledge I will consider it a job well done. If it is not too much of an imposition on your time, I would love another chance to talk at length with you about art, literature, or anything really. Maybe over coffee sometime?

I will be looking forward to your answer,

Satan

Mc sat back, feeling most of her tension leave her body. He didn’t hate her and actually wanted to talk with her again. She smiled, and reached for a piece of paper to pen her response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc poured over the Devildom encyclopedia she had found. It had started as a way to figure out what kind of flower she had seen outside in the castle garden, and had just turned into learning all about the Devildom in general.

“What are you doing Sis?”

“Hmmm… Oh, hey Luke. Did you know the climate here is much like a high altitude desert in the human realm? Super cold in the winter, but really hot in the summer?”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Also, most of the plants here grow from moonlight. Many of the weeds in the Devildom are those that metabolize the moonlight the fastest and most of are actually edible.”

“You found an encyclopedia, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yup. There’s also a lot of reference books here, so everytime I find something I want to know more about, I just write it in my notebook.”

“How many pages so far?”

“Well, this notebook is new and it’s already halfway full…”

“How are you going to look up all of those?”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve heard the InterWeb is useful, though I’m not great at using it yet. Oh, there’s also this little-”

“Okay, I think that’s enough research for one day,” Luke said, taking the encyclopedia.

“Hey!”

“You need to go outside or something.”

Mc huffed a bit, “I was outside already today. That’s what caused me to come back in. I had a question about a flower I saw.”

“Well, go eat something. You haven’t eaten since breakfast have you?”

Mc was about to argue when she realized she was actually very hungry, “That might be a good idea.”

“Come on silly. Let’s get you some food.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc sighed, starting the song over. She hadn’t been able to get any further in her composition, not getting any inspiration. Despite telling Diavolo she wouldn’t be able to perform it, she had still tried to finish the piece. It really was lovely. She just wasn’t sure how to finish it.

She played up until the last note she had composed again, and sighed, lowering her hands from the keyboard.

“That was beautiful,” a deep voice called from behind her.

She turned around, “shocked, “Satan?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, fun fact, I live in a high altitude desert, and if the climate here isn’t Hell, I don’t know what is 🙃

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Chapter 12

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 33]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. None edited chapters are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Alright, here we go again!

Chapter 12

There was something off about his readings. Clearly the time distortion was starting to pull at this place with the way the weather was flickering between storming and sunny, but he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the source of it. He could, however, get that it must be somewhere on this side of the river more into the downtown area, so that’s the way he was walking, Pat close on his heels.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

Janus shot him a glare. “Elvis Presley,” he said.

Pat frowned, clearly knowing who that was. “There’s no reason to be mean.”

“You did it to me first.”

“…Introduced myself as a famous musician?” he asked. Janus didn’t respond, and after a moment, Pat laughed lightly. “You really don’t understand time travel, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Janus said. “Name the three types of time distortions.”

“Just because I don’t know the names of things doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” He stuck out his tongue. Janus was dealing with an actual toddler. “Unlike you who has a bunch of fancy words, but just caused a time loop.”

Janus scoffed. “I did not just cause a time loop.”

“Maybe not a big one,” Pat agreed, “but you did.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never introduced myself to you with a musician’s name, but now you’ve told me that I will. So, at some point in the future I will have to, thereby making you think to say that now. Time loop.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t count.”

“Does too,” Pat claimed. “Like I have said once before and you may or may not have heard me say before, anything you do to me to get back at me for something I haven’t done yet, just causes whatever that is to happen in the first place.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

“Then take it up with future me. I haven’t done anything to you.” Then he paused and sighed. “…Which I guess means you’ve done nothing to me.” He seemed to mull this concept over for a long moment. “Well you were a bit crabby about me not knowing what a time distortion was, but I can forgive you for that.”

“And I’m supposed to forgive you?”

“Like I said,” Pat said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You also haven’t done anything to endear yourself to me either,” Janus grumbled.

“Hmm,” Pat said. “Fine.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “You’re obviously not having much luck finding whatever you’re looking for. Tell me what it is and I’ll help.”

Janus squinted at what was in his hand. “Is that… an iPhone 5?”

“No!” he said. “It’s super-secret time travel tech disguised as an iPhone 5!”

“We’re in 2027,” Janus said. “Not a great disguise. Those things have been obsolete for a decade.”

“Well I’ll keep in mind to have my tech disguised as phones from the right year next time,” Pat said, sticking out his tongue. “Now what are we looking for?”

“If my timepiece can’t find it, I’m certain yours can’t.”

Pat rolled his eyes and tapped on the device’s screen a couple of times. “I’m going to guess it’s that,” he said proudly.

Janus leaned over to look at the screen. “Are you using google maps?” he sputtered.

“It integrates time relevant data like traffic conditions and local weather warnings with time travel technology,” Pat explained. “Something seems to be going on in a museum a couple of blocks that way.”

“I…” Janus said. That was actually a really good idea, usually unnecessary with scouts observing that data beforehand, and Janus wasn’t sure how good the accuracy would be considering whatever was taking it into account was automated, but still a good idea. “Well, I guess since we have no other leads, we can check it out.”

Pat looked far too proud for having only used a piece of tech that hadn’t even been confirmed as accurate. “Then, let’s go,” he said right as a chilly wind started to pick up and a couple of snowflakes began to fall around them. “Before that gets worse…”

Janus let Pat lead with his iPhone. Janus’s timepiece still wasn’t picking up a clear signal for some reason, but it seemed to point in the same general direction as Pat’s. Strangely though, as they got closer to their destination, the signal started to get fuzzier. Pat’s tech seemed unaffected leading them closer to the museum.

When they got to the Musée Fabre museum, Janus stopped. “What?” Pat asked. He was shivering slightly in the cold and holding his arms around himself.

“My timepiece stopped working completely,” he said.

“I’m assuming that’s weird?” Pat said.

“It is,” Janus confirmed, turning to squint at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not the one doing it?”

“If I was doing it, wouldn’t I have just knocked it out from the get go?” Pat questioned.

Janus pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you have? Maybe it’s a trick.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed a bit on him. “Think what you want, but I’m freezing. Come in with me if you want.”

He dithered from a few moments before following Pat inside. Pat had already struck up a conversation with the woman charging admission into art museum. She was looking at him, her brow knit as he spoke. Janus nudged him away from her getting a confused glance from him in return. He shot a smile at the woman.

“Two adult passes for the museum and the Hotel Sabatier d’Espevran, please,” he said, placing down 14 euro.

“Ah,” she said, still looking at Pat oddly. “Yes sir.” She gave them the passes and Janus quickly shuffled Pat away.

“What is wrong with your French?” he hissed once they were out of earshot.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“You sound like you’re reading Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. No one talks like that anymore.”

“I’m a little rusty,” Pat defended himself.

“Two centuries?” Janus asked. Pat stuck his tongue out like a child once again. “Is that your only way to respond to legitimate criticism?”

“What does it even matter anyway? No one ever expects time travel, at least not for something so silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Janus said. “It’s a legitimate issue. The wrong person who’s watched too much science fiction notices and you’re putting the timeline at risk. Not to mention if there are other time travelers around that aren’t as nice as me.”

“Are there a lot of time travelers around?” Pat asked, sounding intrigued.

“There are plenty, both legal and not.”

“Huh,” he said, “but what are the chances we’ll run into another one?”

“Considering the time distortion? There could be many. Opportunists wanting to capitalize off the chaos, people trying to stop it, like me, and not to mention the person who caused it.”

“Wait, someone made it happen?” Pat asked.

“These things don’t just happen naturally.”

“Huh. So, something like this has to be caused by a person?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “…Why?”

Pat smiled. “No reason. I think we should head upstairs. Whatever I’m picking up says it’s around here, but I don’t see anything. Maybe it’s a floor or two above us.”

“Which is why it’s ridiculous to use Google Maps.”

“Would you rather use yours?” he asked sweetly.

“I’m still not convinced it’s not your doing,” Janus growled. “Why does your tech still work when mine doesn’t?”

“Probably the same reason the ring did,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You may be the most aggravating being in the universe.”

Pat glanced at him with a bit of a smirk. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “It would be a much bigger risk to the timeline than me speaking in French from the 1830s. But, I’m pretty sure the reason mine still works is just a software difference.”

“What the hell do you mean a software difference?”

Pat opened his mouth, doubtlessly to supply him with yet another frustratingly cheeky and unhelpful answer. Yet, Pat did not have a chance to do so as, just as Janus stepped onto the second floor of the museum, the ground started to violently shake. Janus tried to turn to catch Pat as the other man’s foot slipped on the last step, but he couldn’t do so in time. Pat fell onto his hands and knees, sliding back a few steps and smacking his face into the stairs hard once and then a couple of times more after that as he slid.

Chapter 13

The room stopped shaking after a moment. “Ow,” Pat said. He seemed a bit stunned but was still moving at least. He carefully maneuvered himself into a seating position. “Ouch. Owie.” He reached up to poke his own nose. “Ow!” Janus slapped his hand away when he got there. A bit of blood was already trickling from his nose and there was a small cut over his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding too much.

Janus pushed him so he was leaning slightly forward and produced a pack of time appropriate tissues from his pocket. He pulled one out of the package and offered it to him.

He took it and pressed it up against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. He seemed mostly alright though Janus imagined he’d have plenty of bruises down the line. The power in the museum flickered and Janus looked up. Now that he was listening, he could hear people panicking in and out of the museum.

“We should probably get off of the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Pat agreed. Janus helped him to his feet, and they climbed back up the steps. Janus looked around and found an employees only sign a few feet away. Usually he’d not risk that as it could get him into trouble he didn’t want to be in, but considering the earthquake that had just happened, he could probably play it off as panic.

He ushered Pat into a small room and found a chair and table. He had Pat sit in the chair and pulled out another one of the tissues to dab at the blood coming from the cut over his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Hold that there. I’m going to go see if there are any bandages about.”

Pat took the tissue with the hand not already holding one to his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

Janus nodded and got to his feet. The lights flickered once again but didn’t stay off for now. He didn’t know how long that would last.

He couldn’t see anything that might hold bandages in this room, but there was a second door. “I’ll be right back,” he told Pat, exiting through it.

The lights flickered once more as the door closed behind him and he cursed. When they came back up Janus’s eyes immediately fell on a man. They both froze.

“Remus!” Janus hissed the second their eyes met. “What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked at him for a moment. “Hi. Janus,” he said. “I… come to France for… tea sometimes?”

“There isn’t any tea back here.”

“So, there isn’t…” he said. There was a moment of silence. “Uh, so I actually cannot talk to you right now.”

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. Remus grimaced in a way Janus had never seen from him before. It immediately set off alarm bells in Janus’s head. “Oh my god,” Janus said. “Oh my god. You’re not from the same time as me.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Remus mumbled.

“Holy shit, you’re looping?!”

“It’s… not looping if I wasn’t here the first time.”

“Remus, we spend more than 12 hours a day together most of the time. The only thing worse than this is if I looped back to this time myself.”

“…Yeah. Anyway, I need to leave now.”

“Please do.”

He turned to go, but then stopped. “Oh, and,” he reached into his pocket and tossed something at Janus. Janus caught it.

It was Band-Aids.

“Oh, shit,” Janus spat at the clear use of foreknowledge. “I hate this. I hate you. I’m going to kill you the next time you see me.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Go.”

He did, slipping into the next room while Janus took a deep breath and then turned back to the door behind him. He schooled his face before Pat looked up. “I found some Band-Aids.”

Pat nodded and Janus came over to squat next to him.

Janus opened the box and Pat looked down. His eyes lit up with sudden joy so intense that Janus felt like he’d just gotten a punch to the gut. “Kitty Band-Aids!” he exclaimed. Janus bothered to actually look at the design on the container, only to note the cartoon cats on the front. Pat was almost vibrating off his seat. “Look they’re all so cute!” He grabbed the container from him to inspect the different designs printed on the back with glee even as a bit of blood was still trickling from his nose.

Janus took the box back gently and guided the wad of bloody Kleenexes back to his nose.

“Which would you like?” Janus asked.

“Oh, they are all so cute,” Pat cooed. “Um, how about that one!” he pointed. “Or that one! Or that one!”

“Pat you only have one cut.”

“But they’re all so cute!” Pat said, tongue tucking into his cheek. He contemplated the box again. “Let’s do the black one,” he finally settled on.

Janus selected one of the Band-Aids with a black cat wrapped around a pink ball of yarn and staring back at them with wide green eyes. The think looked like it had partaken in one two many doses of catnip, but Janus didn’t mention that.

Instead, he just carefully unstuck the backing from the Band-Aid and motioned for Pat to remove the tissue from his forehead. He smiled at Janus as he drew back.

Janus cleared his throat. “How’s the nose.”

“It’s slowing down,” Pat replied. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Janus replied. They met eyes for a second before Pat looked away back at the box of Band-Aids.

“Oh,” Pat said. “There’s a grey one. I didn’t notice.” He pointed to it. “I should have used that one.”

“Do you like grey cats?” Janus asked.

“I like all kitties,” he said, “but one of my roommates loves grey cats. He had one when he was a kid and thinks of them as good omens. Seeing one always brightens up his day.”

“A friend of mine has a grey cat,” Janus said. “She’s much more tolerable than him.”

Pat laughed a bit. “Don’t be mean,” he said.

“Oh, he deserves it, don’t worry.” Janus considered him for a moment. “Here,” he said, pulling out one of the Band-Aids with the grey cat on it. It did, actually, look a lot like Diesel Fuel.

“But I don’t…”

Janus just shrugged and stuck it on his cheek where there was no wound. Pat giggled and touched it with a finger. Janus stood back up.

“Can I have another tissue?” Pat asked.

“Sure.” Janus handed a tissue over to him and he crumpled up the bloody ones in his hand.

“I think I’m good to keep going,” Pat said, putting the new tissue under his nose. “The nose will stop soon.”

Pat got out his iPhone and directed him back out of the room. They checked the second floor and didn’t find anything and so went to the third floor. The second they arrived in the room that Pat’s phone was directing them too, Janus knew that it must be right. There was a strange, distorted whirling sound and the entire room was shaking slightly like they were standing next to a railroad track.

“I’m guessing this is it,” Pat said.

Janus nodded and looked over his shoulder at the screen. They both cautiously walked towards where the little dot was on the phone.

“Is that it?” Pat asked, pointing at a small device on the center column in the room. Janus reached forward to flip the switch on it. The whirling stopped and the room settled. Janus’s time piece vibrated as it came back online. They waited for a few moments. “I assumed… time distortions would be more…”

“They are,” Janus said. “This one is artificial.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a simulation,” Janus said. “It causes similar symptoms to a time distortion, but it’s not actually fracturing time at all.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said. He took the piece of tech of the wall and carefully stored it in his pocket, “but someone’s trying to get our attention.”

Chapter 14

Janus didn’t feel comfortable leaving France 2027 just yet, still weirded out by the strange turn of events. So, he and Pat ended up sticking around for a couple of hours. They looked through the art museum for a bit, but Janus was having trouble focusing on the pieces, and Pat eventually suggested they get some air. Janus agreed considering the museum would close for the night soon anyway.

They wandered around the downtown for a bit. The people seemed to jump back from the strange weather and earthquake that afternoon rather quickly, and there were plenty still about to blend into.

Pat was snapping photos every so often like a tourist which Janus shook his head at but allowed because even with the outdated phone it almost made them blend in even more. It also might stop any questions about Pat’s weird way of speaking French. They could just say he was an overeager tourist who watched too many old movies.

“Ooo!” Pat said. “We should get crepes.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go to France and not eat crepes.”

“I assure you, you can,” Janus said dryly.

Pat shot a pout at him and the next thing he knew he was in a small crepe shop.

For Janus, choosing something was easy. He just ordered the first thing he found on the menu which seemed to be a standard one with ham and eggs. Pat on the other hand seemed to be struggling greatly, and Janus had to gently push him to the side to let some other customers order first.

“What should I get!?” Pat asked. “They all look so good! I could do strawberry preserves or maple syrup or just sugar!”

“Or you could get one that is actually food,” Janus suggested mildly. “I don’t think you need any more sugar judging by how you are acting.”

Pat rolled his eyes. “You sound like Lo.”

Janus made a note of the name ‘Lo’ even though it surely was a nickname.

“But, since you’re insisting, I’ll get something healthy. I’ll have the strawberry one. That’s a fruit!”

“It comes with a cream cheese filling,” Janus pointed out.

“And it’s fruit!”

Janus shook his head and stepped up to the counter. “One ham and cheese and one strawberry preserve, please,” he said to the cashier as he was not allowing Pat to order in French and accidently say something stupid. He forked over some euros.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” Pat protested when he saw that.

Janus glanced back at him. “I was afraid you’d try to pay in francs,” he said dryly.

It looked like Pat was about to stick his tongue out at him, remembered that Janus had criticized him for that earlier, and then just scrunched up his face in displeasure as though that was any less childish.

They waited for their crepes to be finished and then went to eat them outside near a water fountain.

“I can pay you back for the crepe,” Pat said after they sat down. “I do actually have euros.”

Janus waved him off. “It wasn’t that expensive.”

Pat hummed. “Well, in that case. I insist on paying for a wish for you.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “In the fountain!” Pat clarified.

Pat set aside his crepe to dig in his pocket for a couple of coins. “Here!” he said handing one over.

Janus glanced over at the fountain. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Pat beseeched. “You have to want something. I’ll even throw it in for you, but you have to make a wish first!”

“No.”

“Please!”

Janus sighed. “Fine.” He popped the rest of his crepe in his mouth. “I wish for a crepe,” he said after swallowing.

“You just had a crepe, silly.”

“But I liked it, so I want another one.”

“We can go back and get you another crepe.”

“Ah, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

Pat crossed his arms. “You’re just being difficult on purpose.”

“Not me,” Janus said putting hand over his heart. “I would never do something like that.”

Pat glared at him, but then snatched the coin out of his hand. “Fine!” he said. “One crepe wish coming right up.” He hopped up with the two coins and darted over to the water fountain. Janus turned to watch him go but then happened to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eyes.

Pat’s phone.

He didn’t pause in his movement, completing the turn, but as he watched Pat close his eyes, presumably to focus on his own wish, Janus snuck a hand out and grabbed the phone without looking. He slipped it into his own pocket.

Pat came back over after throwing both coins in the fountain and didn’t even seem to notice that his phone was missing, picking up his crepe to take another bite. Just to make sure, though Janus decided to distract him. “What do you think of your crepe?” Janus asked.

“I like it! It’s sweet, but not too sweet. There was a crepe place across the street from my apartment in college, but they always put a bit too much sugar in the dough, I think. I’d still eat them, but these are much better.”

Janus nodded and kept up the light conversation until Pat was finished.

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“Well,” he said then, getting to his feet. “It seems that nothing else is going to happen regarding the time distortion. I should be getting back.”

Pat hummed. “I should too. It’s movie night!”

“I probably should arrest you,” Janus noted.

“In the middle of all of these people?” Pat asked mildly.

“Touché,” Janus said.

Pat gasped and pointed at him. “Pun!” he said. Janus blinked at him. “Because we’re in France! That’s French!”

“…Goodbye Pat,” Janus said, turning to walk away from him.

“Goodbye… wait I still don’t know your name!”

Janus stopped to look back at him for a moment. “Like I said,” he replied. “Elvis.”

“Fine,” Pat said. “Au revoir, mon chéri.”

“You never stop, do you?” Janus asked.

Pat giggled. “Considering I don’t know what you mean, I imagine I’m just getting started.”

Janus actually left then, walking off towards the alley he’d first arrived in. In some ways, the mission had been a bust, but in others it had gone very well.

He felt for the weight of the phone in his pocket before pulling up the display screen on his timepiece to go back to the TPI.

It had gone very well indeed.

Chapter 15

The first thing Janus had done when he’d returned to the TPI was hand over the timebomb to Khalid who sent it to forensics. Within the hour, forensics got back to them that it was the same timebomb as 2999 and that it had never exploded, but simply been diffused. Which meant, blessings on blessings, everyone got to go home that night.

Not that Janus went home, no, he ended up falling asleep on his desk somewhere between 3 and 4am, but at least he wasn’t sharing his space with anyone. He’d been trying to hack the cell phone all night to see if it had anything he could use, but he honestly had no idea what he was doing. All it seemed he could do was play some annoying song over and over again about never giving someone up. At around 2am, he’d finally broken and sent off an email, though, he’d continued to try to mess with it after that.

He got woken up by Lena coming into the office at 7am, and noticed he already had an email response asking when Janus wanted to come in.

“Now?” he sent back.

“…Do you sleep?” was the immediate response. “And yes.”

His wrist buzzed as an appointment in 5 seconds downloaded to his timepiece. He selected the coordinates and landed at Cultural Outreach. The receptionist blinked up at him and then back down at the screen on his desk. “Oh!” he said. “I didn’t see this appointment. I think Professor Eran is in his office.”

He didn’t stand to escort Janus this time, so Janus went ahead and went down the hall to Virgil’s office himself.

He knocked on the door and while he was waiting for Virgil to open it, the infernal contraption once again started to play the same stupid song.

“I didn’t even touch you!” he spat, getting it out and tapping on the screen.

“Jonas Brothers dude again?” Virgil asked causally upon opening the door.

Janus shoved it at him. “Make it stop.”

Virgil took it and fiddled with it for a few moments before it stopped with the song. “Oh my gosh,” he said scrolling through something on the screen.

“What.”

“What maniac sets a custom alarm for every 30-60 minutes for a week that just plays ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’? Oh, and one ‘It’s Not Unusual’ on Saturday. He’s mixing memes at an alarming rate.”

“Can you. Just. Make it not happen. Anymore?”

Virgil smirked at him. “Maybe.” He turned around to go back into his office.

“Virgil,” Janus growled following him in.

Virgil just laughed. “What do you want to know about it?” he asked. “Just a fair warning… the song means he… likely was aware someone would steal it.”

“Of course, he was,” Janus groaned.

“But I’m sure we can still get something out of it.” Virgil started tapping at the screen again. “Okay, let’s see. It’s an iPhone 5, and someone jailbroke it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tampered with it so they could install non-company approved software,” Virgil explained.

“Well I figured that since he was using Google Maps to track time distortions,” Janus grumbled.

“I think I have something,” Virgil said to himself while digging through his desk. “Ah ha!” He held up some sort of cord. “This will let me hook it up to my integrator.” He slotted the cord into the bottom of the iPhone and then crawled under his desk to fiddle around with some other things. “There we go,” Virgil said popping back up. “It might take a few minutes. Running the program any faster might overheat the phone.”

Janus nodded and sat back to wait. Virgil grabbed the phone and started to play around with it a bit even as it uploaded all of its information to his computer.

“Weird,” Virgil said after a moment.

“What?” Janus asked, sitting up straighter.

“There are exactly two contacts. Fewer than I’d anticipate for a regular phone from the 2010s. More than I would expect from one clearly not being used as a phone.

Virgil glanced to the side, and it must have finished the download because he unhooked it from the computer. “I have a 21st century phone network adapter,” Virgil said. “It transfers call back to whatever date the phone says. Do you want to try calling one?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Janus replied.

Virgil dug back into his desk for a small device that he plugged into the same port he’d plugged the earlier cord. “Okay, which contact do you want to try first?” he asked. “One has ‘Ro’ with a crown, red heart, and a gold star emoji. The other has “Lo” with a book, blue heart, and Milky Way emoji.”

“He mentioned a Lo,” Janus said. “So, try him first.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll put it on speaker.” He pressed some buttons before setting the phone on the desk between them.

The phone rang three times before with a bit of a crackle, it was answered. “Salutations,” a voice said, voice sounding a bit scratchy as though he had only just gotten up.

Virgil motioned with his head for Janus to speak. “Are you ‘Lo’?” he asked.

The man hummed. “To some people.”

Janus… didn’t quite know what to say to that, or even what questions he should ask.

“I’m assuming you’re the man that stole my associate’s phone.”

“Your associate?” Janus fished.

The man made an amused hum. “I believe you were calling him ‘Pat’ on your last adventure.” Janus could hear something being placed down on the other end of the phone. Before Janus could respond, he heard what sounded like an old keyboard being typed on. “Now,” Lo said. “I have to admit, I am surprised you were willing to oblige me so thoroughly by plugging the phone into your system. Let’s see…”

The screen on Virgil’s lit up bright blue all of a sudden. “…shit,” said Virgil.

“Well,” Lo said, “it seems you were clever enough not to plug it into the TPI system, which is disappointing, but…”

There was more clicking on the other end. “Hmm, interesting music tastes for the 4000s,” he said.

“I’m an anthropologist,” Virgil spoke up.

“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Lo replied. “Virgil Eran, senior professor at Silver Mountain University, a vetted member of the Cultural Outreach program, and searched the phrase ‘How to eat sushi without making a cultural blunder and making everyone hate you and losing your job because what kind of shit anthropologist doesn’t know how to eat raw fish right’ which you then shortened to ‘How to eat sushi’ and proceeded to search 52 times in the last 48 hours.”

Virgil went a bit scarlet around the ears. “Dude, did you really have to out me like that?” he hissed at the phone.

“My apologies,” Lo responded. “From my personal experience, don’t dip the rice parts in soy sauce, and don’t add too much wasabi. Overall, most people will be understanding of mistakes, and you will certainly not be fired or ostracized for handling food incorrectly. As long as you are not acting intentionally disrespectful, and I image you will not be considering your clear anxiety over whatever outing you are planning to attend, you will be fine.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Good point, but counterpoint, what if you’re wrong and everyone hates me forever?”

“Is it the lunch meeting today at 11:30am?” Lo asked, “because I can see that a Professor Boris Laden has attended the event multiple years in a row. Considering he is a philosophy instructor, has no Japanese heritage that I can see, and I have found a photo of last year’s event wherein he has placed his chopsticks vertically in his rice, and he has yet to be fired or ostracized, I would postulate that your fears are unfounded.”

“Yeah but… okay, I really don’t have an argument for that one, except maybe I’m a piece of shit and everyone is looking for a reason to hate me.”

“Considering your many impressive accolades in your field, I would argue that ‘a piece of shit’ is not a good descriptor of you. Not to mention the fact that you are often a highly requested member for different committees in your department and outside of it.”

“Oh, but is that because people like me or because I’m an anxious mess and make sure events go off without a hitch?”

“From experience, disorder with people you enjoy the company of is far more tolerable than order with people you do not. Which explains my current living situation and the lack of finished dishes in my sink. Therefore, I would assume the former.”

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“A lot of assumptions,” Virgil commented, but he was smiling slightly.

“Assumptions based on data,” Lo argued back lightly.

“You really came in here, hacked into my computer and smacked my anxiety in the face, huh?”

“Glad to have helped.”

“Y-”

“Are the two of you finished?” Janus interrupted, finally getting sick of the two of them.

“Not nearly,” Lo said. “I have gained access to an entire network of a very large university and will be sorting through the data for a long time.”

“Ugh, right,” Virgil groaned, “and you got access through my integrator.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to trace it back to you if you don’t tell them.”

“Nice try,” Virgil said dryly, “but not likely. I’m telling them about you immediately so they can work to kick you out.”

Lo laughed. “Fair enough, but I’ve already gotten plenty of information at this point. Including the fact that you work with the TPI and scheduled an appointment with an Agent Janus Picani this morning set to start a few minutes before this phone call. So, hello Janus.”

“Bastard,” Janus shot back.

“And goodbye Professor Eran. It was a pleasure.” He hung up.

Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “This is going to be fun to explain to both of our bosses.”

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Pat said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Pat told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything major yet,” Pat said wiggling his fingers a bit. The display changed slightly to some sort of colorful overlay Janus did not understand. Pat hummed. “Did you two come from that building recently?” he asked nodding at it.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “How do you know?”

“There’s sometimes a slight temperature change when people time travel,” Pat explained. “I can read it on here.” He tilted his head. “There also seems to be a big enough temperature change in a church a few blocks away that could indicate time travel. Want to check it out?”

“We might as well,” Janus agreed.

“And if it’s nothing, we can get drunk on the communion wine!”

“He’s going to get immediately struck by lightning,” Janus said.

Chapter 18

“If we see anyone,” Janus said as they entered the church. “You keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? Remus, do you understand me?”

Remus immediately turned to Pat. “You know, I didn’t grow up Catholic,” he said to Pat who looked at him in confusion. “So the first time I ever entered a Catholic church, you can’t blame me for being a little confused about the whole cabinet thing with a wall between them. After all, everyone was singing about glory to god and what not. So I…”

Janus slapped him. “This is why you were almost burned at the stake yesterday.”

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“Excuse you,” Remus said, putting his hand over his heart. “I was almost drowned.”

“You were almost drowned?” Pat asked, his voice seeming legitimately distressed.

Remus shrugged a smile on his face that caused a Pavlovian migraine to start up behind Janus’s eyes. “It’s one of the hazards of the jobs, and really it would have all been worth it if I’d actually gotten to drown in that man’s…”

“We’re in a church!” Janus cut him off switching from Spanish to Swahili in the hopes that no random passersby would be able to understand him in this time and place. “Don’t talk about lewd sex things. Don’t talk about sex at all. It’s a Catholic church!”

Remus continued to speak in Spanish with no regard for anything. “But not talking about lewd sex things takes away 3/4ths of my personality,” he pouted.

“More like 9/10th,” Janus grumbled, “and the other 1/10th is just normal stupid.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be mean,” Pat scolded, in fucking English for some reason, “but Remus, honey, you probably shouldn’t be saying things like that right now.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Remus said switching to English.

“He’s my partner, I have the right to call him stupid,” Janus insisted.

“And I love you too!” Remus said in Greek because he was really, truly, stupid.

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Pat looked between the two, but then seemed to accept it, dropping the concerned expression for a slightly amused one. “If you say so.”

“Can I… help you?” A voice asked. All three of them whipped around to see a young boy looking at them and seeming very confused. Which was fair considering that to his ears, they’d just been speaking nonsense.

“We’re here to pray!” Remus claimed, then he turned to wink at Pat and said under his breath in Swahili, “to that ass.” Pat went immediately bright red again, which was doubtlessly Remus’s aim. Janus subtlety stepped on his foot while smiling at the boy.

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“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in questioning the random strangers in front of him further. “I’m going to go back to the celebration now.”

Janus smiled at him. “Have fun,” he said. He waited for the boy to leave through the front door before slapping Remus on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he whined sounding far too pained for how hard Janus had actually hit him.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just start investigating,” he said.

“Sure, sure, you never let me have any fun,” Remus said, pulling up his wrist and spinning the golden bracelets on his arm. “Hmm…” he said.

#study break stories #not writing

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Losers Club Plus One Part 11

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

Read the previous part here or go here for the full series masterlist!

A/N: Hiya there! It’s getting serious, we have reached the last hour of the movie! I am actually growing a little sad knowing that this long ass journey is going to end soon, but I also am kind of proud? Anyway, let’s enjoy this. My hometown is being put under lockdown, by the way, so I might feel quite bored quite often and throw out more content!

This part is about 3.2k words, just fyi. I hope you enjoy and, as always, feedback, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

“Yeah, no, you’re staying out here.” Richie said as he noticed that his daughter was trying to follow the group. He was fumbling with something in his pockets, trying to find the car keys.

“What? No. There’s no way I’m letting you guys do this on your own.” Y/n replied, crossing her arms before her chest. Her cheeks grew warm with anger.

“There’s no way I’m letting you come with us.” Richie countered; stance equally determined.

“Richie…” Eddie started, only to be interrupted by Richie himself.

“No, don’t ‘Richie’ me. She’s not coming with us. Y/N is staying in the car where it’s safe.”

“Statistically speaking, it would be safer for her to come with us than to stay by herself in the car.” Eddie looked at Y/N, then over to the cars parked beside the street.

“I’ve told you before, it is not safe for us to split up. Y/N doesn’t even know how to drive in case she needs to get away, there is nothing for her to defend herself with once that fucking clown comes out. Staying in the car would literally be a death trap for her.” Eddie tried to argue with Richie who now looked twisted. The rest of the Losers looked on as they watched the heated discussion, not wanting to interfere. Each of them wanted the best and the best only for the littlest Loser, but what really was the best for her in that moment? Their minds travelled back to Stanley, how they saw him on the ground, his version of IT biting at his face, perhaps only mere moments from killing Stan. Did they really want that for Y/N? Did they want to risk that much? However, that first time, no one died. No matter how close. They got out of there once before, who said they couldn’t do that a second time?

“Eat a dick, Eddie.” Richie mumbled before averting his gaze to look at his daughter. The determination in her eyes was uncanny. Richie knew there was no stopping her.

“You won’t ever leave my side. You’ll stay with one of the Losers at all times. If I tell you to run and leave, you will. And don’t try to be a hero down there. And if you feel like anything’s too much for you, tell us and we’re gonna figure something out.”

Y/N nodded along to her father’s rules. She had to bite her lip to keep her tears at bay. Tears of uncertainty. No one knew what was truly ahead of them and there were no guessing games either. The Losers just hoped that at least one of them would see the daylight again.

Mike went back to the car to fetch the few flashlights he had thrown into the car before hurrying to catch up with Bill. He then proceeded to give them out to the Losers Plus One. One after another got their lights. Everyone except for Stanley. But in some way, Stan was still there. Maybe it was just a silly way of grief and remembering for Mike as he, with a heavy heart and deep sigh, gave the last flashlight to Y/N, but it seemed like the girl was Stan’s filler. Like there was a reason she managed to convince Richie to take her with him from LA back to Derry, into the mess they were met with.

Y/N shivered when she really stepped into the building. It was like every last drop of happiness had been washed away, like she had been drained of her emotions, drained of what made her human. A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she felt her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage. IT could attack them at any given moment. IT could come for them whenever. IT could be right around the corner.

Out in Derry, Y/N had felt like she was running around with a target on her head. She was in a town she didn’t know, surrounded by people she didn’t know. Everyone could have been Pennywise in disguise, as far as she knew. But now, they had entered IT’s home. The place IT knew better than anyone else. The place IT resided and killed children in. The odds of beating IT, whatever IT even was, were slim and Y/N had figured out just that. Basically, all of them were a delicious meal, presenting itself on a plate for IT.

Y/N followed the adult Losers she had grown to trust around the house, staying especially close to Richie. But she couldn’t help but feel like Eddie was keeping an extra close eye on her. Just in case.

Wood creaked below their feet, a low hum echoed through the room with the wind whistling through the cracks and broken windows. Suddenly, a new sound caught her attention. A sound that didn’t fit the picture. A sound that sounded so foreign, it was terrifying.

“What the fuck?” Y/N breathed out as she took a step back, never having seen anything like that before. But none of the Losers seemed to be weirded out by some black lava randomly seeping out of the wood, followed by a hissing sound of burning wood. Each one of the Losers seemed tense, but a strange sense of calmness accompanied their characters. Y/N felt lost. Because she felt distanced from the Losers. Not so much physically, but more mentally.

“Well, I love what he’s doing with the place.” Richie said as he watched the mass spread.

“Peep-peep, Richie.” Beverly said, voice unimpressed with the humour Richie still tried to bring up, despite the seriousness of the situation. Y/N felt a shiver running down her spine, shaking through her body, as she unconsciously tried to get closer to the Losers. Nothing she saw was right. It wasn’t natural, or so it seemed, and it made her head swim. She felt like she was thrown straight into a horror movie and was made to live there, fight her way through. It was terrifying as she didn’t know what would happen next, where she had to go, but the worst was the unknowingness of the moment, the uncertainty if any of them would ever see the sunlight again. If any of their lungs would ever be filled with the fresh, unused and clean air they were met with outside. If any of them would even be able to breathe still after this night or if they would all lose their lives.

“I’ve got to keep that one in mind. Maybe that’ll shut him up on the flight back home.” Y/N replied, hoping to ease some of her own tension the way her father always does. Successfully so, with the chuckle that escaped Ben’s lips, she did feel a little lighter on her feet. She felt some of the hopelessness melting away. She felt a little warmth in her chest.

Bill walked before the rest of the group. Slowly at first, but he seemed to be impatient, every step he took was quicker than the last. Y/N watched him go, not knowing if what he did was something conscious, something he himself wanted to do, if he knew where to go or if it was IT somehow forcing him. How, she didn’t know, but Y/N was sure IT had more tricks up his clown-costume sleeve than any of them would like to know.

Floorboards creaked beneath their feet. Dust swirled in the air, straining Y/N’s airways. The air was thick with what Y/N felt might be the smell of decay, old blood, maybe even faeces. She had no idea what she had yet to encounter, but the smell that tested her gag reflexes already didn’t give her much hope of a fair game.

For a second, she let her mind wander. She wondered how many people had been taken by IT. How many children had been led to their death with promises meant to be broken and false hopes of things they would never receive? Y/N let her mind wander, far enough to not notice that they had split into two groups, one of them distancing themselves from the other quite rapidly.

Ben suddenly groaned. Throaty, filled with pain. Heads whipped around. Before Y/N was even able to comprehend what was happening, Bev had already called out to him, a worried yell of his name. Something about the way her voice carried itself made her sound like she was already expecting the worst. And she wasn’t wrong with that.

Y/N looked around, head frantically whipping from side to side, only being able to locate Bev, Ben and Mike. Yelling echoed through the abandoned house, she heard Bill yelling for them, she heard Eddie and her father. Fists banging against a door. And she saw Ben sinking to his knees. His hands pressed to his stomach, trying to find a source of pain. Y/N rushed towards Ben, holding onto his right arm alongside Beverly, who felt panic take over as she watched how Ben’s white shirt gained blood red stains.

Somewhere down the hall, Bill was yelling for Ben. Y/N heard their voices clear and loudly and she felt how her feelings were twisted. She felt the need to run to the other Losers, stick with her father and the person who might as well become her stepfather, but she didn’t want to let Ben down. She couldn’t bring herself to leave him to his suffering.

Mike joined the two women as Ben lowered himself to the ground, screams of agony leaving his lips, shaking the Losers to their core, breaking their hearts and making their stomachs churn. Ben pulled up his shirt, revealing streaks of blood, open wounds as something none of them could see dragged along his stomach, leaving deep cuts.

Bev yelled as Ben watched his stomach being torn apart with wild eyes, too many bad memories, too much fear bubbling up in him. He was reminded of the pure hatred, the insanity in Bowers’ eyes as he cut into Ben’s stomach that one fateful summer, the cuts that pained him so much physically, but even more mentally. The wound that would taunt him until he left the town and far beyond that. A scar that never really let him go.

Y/N cringed as she watched, before she jumped up, looking for the clown in a panicked daze. She didn’t notice how she was running around, looking for something that might give away his location. It happened naturally, her instincts took over. But if there was one thing Y/N knew about the clown by now, it was that it had a preference when it came to attacks. It would use their fears against them. Now she was left to figure out what could scare Ben.

She turned to look at Ben, the carvings on his stomach now read ‘HOME AT LA’, new lines appearing on Ben’s stomach with every second. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on the mirror. She saw their huddled up figures. In her state, she almost didn’t notice the white face added to the group.

“The mirror!” Y/N yelled out as she watched IT happily torture Ben, the words on his stomach being completed as IT was ready to move for the kill. The kill IT had been dreaming of, the thing IT had waited 27 years for. The first out of eight kills that would finally give it the satisfaction and peace IT had craved for years. Ever since those kids came across IT for the first time.

Neither Y/N nor Bev really thought as they acted. Both acted on instinct, taking the first hard object they could find and smashing it against the mirror. It shattered into what looked and felt like a million pieces as the girls tried to shield their faces from the sharp shards flying around the room, whipping around to look at Ben.

The pent up adrenaline left their bodies quickly, a heavy weight being lifted off their chests as they spotted Ben’s now free-of-cuts abdomen and neck. Y/N’s relief, however, was quick to dissipate though, as the screams of the three men that walked ahead reached her ears.

She ran faster than she thought her legs could carry her towards what her ears told her was the source of the screams until she was met with closed doors.

“Dad! DAD!” Y/N yelled as she hammered against the door with her fists. Tears blurred her vision, a sharp pain shooting from her balled fists through her whole arm as she tried to get into the room, trying to get to her father who was screaming for help.

“Richie!” Mike yelled, followed by Ben and Bev as the trio ran after the girl who now threw herself against the door in hopes of getting it to open up. The wood finally gave in. Eddie was standing in a corner. Shaking his head. Face contorted with fear. Bill was screaming. For a knife. Richie was begging for help. A knife. Where? She saw it. Glistening in the low light.

Suddenly, the spider-head trying to kill Richie stopped its movement. Bill looked up in shock. Y/N held the knife tightly in her hands, the blade pushed into the head. Her knuckles were white, fingers laced tightly around the blade like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

In a fit of rage, she pulled the knife out of the head only to ram it back in. Over and over and over again. Five, six, seven times. She wasn’t met with any resistance, nothing to stop her from letting out the anger and frustration and hatred she felt towards the thing that would forever have an impact on her life.

It wasn’t until Ben grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back that she stopped. If it was up to Y/N, she would have continued to stab the thing until it wasn’t more than a pile of mush on the ground. Despite the nausea and the guilt that filled her, ate away at her. Despite the dirty feeling on her skin as she tried to end a life. Despite the burning in her brain and in her heart, both of them yelling at her to stop. But she couldn’t bring herself to do just that. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t rest. Not until revenge had been served. Not until justice found its way to make things right again. Even though she knew that things wouldn’t be right again. What she saw wasn’t something to forget. What they had said and done wasn’t something to shrug off.

“Y/N, it’s enough. Richie’s alright.” Ben whispered to the girl in his arms as he pulled her away and tried to push her head in his chest, hoping to shield her sight. From what exactly, Ben wasn’t sure. Maybe he didn’t want to have her see IT get away with what it had done. Maybe he wanted her to just focus on him to calm down. Or maybe he was scared that some of the anger she was able to let out would rebound onto Richie and Ben hoped to prevent that. All he knew was that it felt right to hug his Loser-niece tightly as the rest of the group tried to catch their breath.

“Is everybody okay?” Bev asked as she dropped to her knees beside Richie who was coughing and sputtering with Bill still leaning over him. She pulled off her jacket to wipe whatever the slime was that IT had left on Richie’s face away.

Bill was now the one to feel the rage. Storming towards Eddie, he only had one thing in his mind. Anger burned hot inside his mind and his chest as he pushed Eddie back to the wall.

“He could have f-f-f-fucking died, man. You k-know that, right?” Bill screeched at Eddie, voice coarse with disbelief. Eddie’s gaze travelled from Bill, Big Bill, who now seemed more intimidating than ever, over Richie who was being cared for by Bev, to Y/N, still in Ben’s arms, as he and Mike tried to provide comfort and maybe just the smallest sense of calmness. She was shaking, shivering, as she watched her father, seemingly zoned out with a few stray tears on her cheeks.

“Georgie’s dead. The k-kid’s dead. Stan-Stanley’s dead. Y-you want Richie too?” Bill couldn’t help himself as he screamed, the fear settling in him, he felt intimidated and overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in. None of them wanted to be back there, none of them wanted to face IT again, but Bill was the one who had the hardest time. He was the cause of their misery. He was the cause of Georgie’s death. And Stan’s. And the kid’s. He couldn’t bear the guilt of another Loser, one of the people closest to him, to lose their life for his cause. And especially not the only Loser who had a child of their own to take care of.

As Bill kept screaming the words ‘You want Richie too?’, all Eddie could do was shake his head, eyes not meeting Bill’s as he whispered his reply. “I don’t. I don’t want Richie too. I don’t, I don’t.”

When Bill’s shouting ceased, the room filled with heavy breaths and quiet, the occasional sound of a floorboard creaking as Y/N crawled towards her father, embracing him tightly. Finally, Eddie managed to look at Bill, properly look at him.

“Please don’t be mad, Bill.” Eddie was close to begging as he felt hot tears fill his eyes to the brim, threatening to spill over at any given moment. “I was just scared.”

And at that moment, they all noticed. Eddie’s eyes were still the same. It was Eddie Spaghetti Bill was yelling at. Not Edward Kaspbrak, the successful Risk Analyser. It was Big Bill yelling, not Bill Denbrough, the bestselling author.

“That- that’s what he w-w-wants, right?” Bill asked, realisation dawning in him, the Losers and their Plus One. Y/N watched Eddie and Bill with cold eyes, a broken heart. She almost felt betrayed by Eddie. The man who had told her that he loved her father, had feelings for him in the least, who couldn’t step up and save him when no one else was available. She almost lost the only person who had stayed with her through everything, the man who felt like home. And she couldn’t forget. Hurt was deeply implanted in her chest and in her head as Richie held onto her for dear life.

“Don’t- don’t give it to him.” Bill finished, taking his hands off Eddie who now sobbed, almost not more than a quiet gasp, as he realised that his lack of actions could have led to the death of his love. And it pained him, even more, to know that it had taken him more than 27 years and he still didn’t have the balls to even think of Richie as more than a crush. Deep down, Eddie longed to be in Richie’s warm embrace, he cherished every joke Richie cracked, no matter how insulting, maybe even especially when insulting. Richie made his heart flutter, his palms sweaty. And even the thought of losing Richie to death scared Eddie so much that his body went frigid, ice cold. He froze. He was petrified. But he couldn’t tell. Not Richie, not Y/N. Not now. Not when they both looked at him, disbelief clear in their faces, eyes cold with hatred.

Only, they weren’t. But Eddie didn’t know.

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