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hrina · 4 years

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In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

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#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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razzle-zazzle · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 06: Touch & Go

Hunger

1820 Words; Runaways AU, just barely pre-Rise of the Serpentine

Lloyd was used to hunger.

It wasn't the kind of statement you’d want to hear from an eight year old, but it was the truth.

One would think that attending a boarding school would mean no issues with food—but Lloyd’s peers would pick on him in any way they could, including stealing his food, and his teachers would look the other way more often than not.

Being thrown out into the streets with nobody to look after him hadn’t helped, either. Lloyd didn’t have anything in the way of money when Darkley’s had kicked him out, so he’d learned how to scrounge and steal and covet any food he could get his hands on.

So yeah, Lloyd was used to going hungry.

Things had gotten better since running into Cole. But better didn’t necessarily mean good.

They were always on the move, and Cole had a system worked out where he would do labor or other small favors in exchange for food and lodgings. Stay just long enough in a town to eat up, rest up, and then stock up for the trip to the next.

Lloyd helped, sometimes, by virtue of being a small child with wicked puppy dog eyes.

But there were still two mouths to feed, and they still had no luck finding someone who would take Lloyd in—some towns chased them out entirely upon hearing who Lloyd was related to.

Fortunately, Lloyd was used to going hungry.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole was starting to consider giving up on the “find-Lloyd-a-proper-home” idea.

They’d already stopped announcing Lloyd’s heritage, but rumors and gossip spread fast—too fast. Not a single village they’d stopped at during the last month hadn’t known, resulting in suddenly-closed shops and suspicious glares and “Sorry, can’t help you”s and, in one notable case, an actual pitchfork waved at them.

Cole checked his bag again, wincing at the lack of proper food in there. If he was on his own, he could probably make this last for a week, but…

Cole looked over to where Lloyd was drawing with a stick in the dirt, likely plotting another prank. The kid was probably already aware of the food situation—or, Cole frowned, he was used to it after spending a few weeks on his own.

That didn’t reduce Cole’s stress, though. On his own, he could eat lightly enough to make the food last. But with the kid added into the mix?

Cole counted through the bags of trail mix and cans of non-perishables he still had. This wouldn’t be enough to last to the next town—not for the both of them.

And just getting to the next town didn’t guarantee more food, either.

Lloyd shouted, kicking at a small pile of sticks he built and laughing.

Cole looked at the contents of the bag one last time, then closed it.

The decision was surprisingly easy.

+=+=+=+=+

“I’m hungry.” Lloyd complained, trudging along the trail. “And my feet hurt, and it’s hot out, and—”

Cole sighed. “I know.” He continued walking. “The situation’s shitty enough, we don’t need to add needless complaining to it.”

Lloyd stuck out his tongue. “Well maybe I like complaining.”

“Then complain in your head.”

It wasn’t exactly easy to sulk while trudging up a hill, but Lloyd managed.

“Besides,” Cole added after a moment, “Complaining about the problems means you’re thinking about them, which makes them worse.”

Lloyd couldn’t argue with that logic, but not thinking about his aching feet or empty stomach was hard. It wasn’t like there was much else to do.

“Stupid walk,” Lloyd muttered, “Stupid people and their stupid food that they won’t share,” He crossed his arms for a moment, realized it made walking harder, and uncrossed them, “Stupid hills being too tall and stupid sun being too hot.” He was working up a really good sulk now, “Stupid tall grass scratching my legs—”

Cole groaned, half of it a growl. “You little pest,” he hissed, whirling around to face Lloyd.

“We’ve been walking for hours!” Lloyd protested, “The sun’s starting to set and we haven’t stopped since morning!”

Cole sighed. “Look, kid,” he began, tone unusually serious, “we need to get to the next town, ASAP. We have to keep going.”

Lloyd huffed. “That’s stupid.”

“There’s a reason—”

“It’s because we’re running out of food, isn’t it?” Lloyd accused. “We didn’t eat as much this morning.”

Cole cringed. “Yeah, that.” Then he frowned. “You’re not supposed to worry about that. I’ve got it handled.”

Lloyd’s eyebrow raised, skepticism written across his face.

Cole tensed, shoulders pulling in, before turning around. “C’mon. We just gotta get to that hill there. Then we can settle down for the night.” He started walking again, only glancing back once to make sure Lloyd was following.

Lloyd groaned at the distance, but said nothing else.

+=+=+=+=+

“You’re not eating.”

Cole froze.

A moment later, he resumed sketching the landscape in his sketchbook. “So?” He asked, faintly annoyed that Lloyd had noticed so quickly.

Lloyd frowned down at his own dinner. “‘S not fair.” He muttered.

Cole didn’t respond, instead concentrating on shading in the trees on the horizon just right. Maybe if he ignored the problem and focused on his drawing, it’d go away.

He was brought out of his laser-focus by Lloyd tugging on his shirt, food in hand.

“What now?” Cole asked, pulling his sketchbook close to his chest.

Lloyd held out the bowl. “Here.”

Cole stared, then pushed the bowl towards Lloyd. “This is yours.”

Lloyd frowned. “Yeah, I’m sharing it.”

“Just eat the damn food, Lloyd.” Cole shut his sketchbook, setting it and the pencil in his lap. “I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“But you need to eat.” Lloyd insisted, as if that would change Cole’s mind. “It’s not fair if I eat and you don’t.”

Cole shrugged. “It’s not fair that we’re struggling with food. It’s not fair that you got kicked out of Darkleys.” He swallowed, thoughts of his mother creeping into the back of his mind. “Life isn’t fair.”

“‘sides,” Cole added, “You’re a child. You need the food more than I do.”

Lloyd stared Cole down for a moment, before relenting and returning to where he was sitting.

Cole watched to make sure Lloyd was eating, then pulled out his sketchbook again.

Their camp was silent but for the subtle scratch of pencil on paper.

“I’m used to not eating.” Lloyd said quietly, breaking the silence.

Cole made a face. “You shouldn’t be.”

+=+=+=+=+

The next morning, Cole and Lloyd both ate a meager breakfast before setting off again.

Jamanakai Village was nice to them the first time they visited it. Hopefully it’d be the same this time.

They wouldn’t know until they got there, though, which meant a lot of hiking.

Mostly uphill.

Lloyd grumbled as he clambered up another small ledge, muscles aching from the exertion.

His stomach still hurt, feeling oddly empty despite having eaten just hours ago.

“We’re close,” Cole said quietly, helping Lloyd through the more vertical parts. “We’ll find somewhere to settle down for the night, then get to Jamanakai by midday tomorrow.”

Lloyd groaned. “Why can’t we just travel through the night? We’d get there quicker.”

Cole stopped, flat look on his face. “We’re not hiking this trail at night.” He resumed hiking. “And you need your rest.”

“Stick in the mud.” Lloyd muttered. Cole responded to the insult with a snort.

They continued their trek, making the occasional stop to sit and drink from the canteen in Cole’s bag.

At one such break, Lloyd voiced a question that had been bothering him for a while now.

“Why’s it so hard to get food anyway?”

Cole shrugged. “Food requires money, and it’s kind of hard to get money when you’re a fifteen year old runaway.” Cole groaned. “We don’t have resources, we just have camping supplies and an ever-dwindling supply of luck.”

Lloyd huffed. “Why can’t we just take the food? It’s not like I paid for anything when I was on my own.”

“Because if we steal we’ll get in trouble, and then people won’t trust us anymore,” Cole explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “And if people don’t trust us, they won’t help us.”

“It’s not like they trust us now.” Lloyd muttered.

Cole snorted. “Yeah, well, I don’t intend to go out of my way to piss people off.” He fixed Lloyd with a look. “And that’s not an invitation for you to go pissing people off, either, you little shit.”

Lloyd made a face, but a grumble was his only reply.

Another few moments of rest, and then they were off again.

+=+=+=+=+

Night fell, they set up camp, and Lloyd ate dinner while Cole sketched some deer he’d seen.

Hours later, long after Cole had fallen asleep in his sleeping bag, Lloyd sat up in his.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair that Cole wasn’t eating. It wasn’t fair that food was hard to get. Lloyd knew Cole was reading books he’d found on foraging, but neither of them had been willing to try their luck with that just yet.

“It’s not fair.” Lloyd opined to the night air, knees pulled in close and arms wrapped around them.

His stomach agreed.

He looked at where Cole was snoozing, dead to the world. Cole was being stupid and refusing to eat, but he was right about one thing: Lloyd’s heritage wasn’t doing them any favors.

It wasn’t fair. Lloyd wasn’t his father. But people looked at him and his too-red eyes and decided to have nothing to do with him.

Cole didn’t, but Cole didn’t have the authority to just take food.

Lloyd’s eyes widened. That was it!

Cole might just be a nobody runaway, but Lord Garmadon wasn’t.

Lloyd shimmied the rest of the way out of his sleeping bag and stood up, new resolve hitting him. He went over to the bag of supplies, grabbing the sketchbook and flipping to the next blank page to write a note. He barely glanced at most of the drawings; he’d looked at them before, late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

Note written, Lloyd took the torn-out page and folded it up, putting it by the trail mix Cole undoubtedly intended to use as breakfast tomorrow. He’d have to apologize later, but he wouldn’t leave Cole totally in the dark.

That done, Lloyd dug through the bag for a few supplies. This would be a difficult prank, and he’d definitely need to make use of any supplies he found once he got to town. But if he pulled it off, then it would solve their food troubles, and that was reason enough.

As a last step, Lloyd grabbed his hoodie; the one he’d painted the bones on.

Supplies gathered and resolve set, Lloyd set out.

He had to get moving if he wanted to reach Jamanakai Village by morning.

#whumptober2021 #no.6 #hunger #ninjago #lego ninjago #zaz writes #cole ninjago #lloyd garmadon #runaways au #this is basically the lead up to that first ep of ninjago (not counting the pilots)#lloyd getting an idea and sneaking ahead #undoubtedly worrying cole who has by this point grown very fond of the little monster #*sniff* he's really grown into the role of big brother #the obligatory scene where cole & lloyd discuss their fathers would happen before this #and is coming #...eventually #there's not enough cole whump in this sad sad world #lloyd suffers enough so let's make him suffer more!

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fandomrewrites · 4 years

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Chasing Butterflies: Pilot

Hello all, I’m finally posting the first chapter of Chasing Butterflies - a rewrite of The 100! I am posting it with my to OC’s so it will not be a reader insert. I will try to update once a week, on either Saturday or Sunday. I hope you all enjoy this story and as always constructive criticism is appreciated. Let me know if you want to get added to the taglist!

Season 1, Episode 1: Pilot Pairings: OC x OC best friends, no love interests yet Warnings: Some swearing and mild violence Word Count: 5,209

Season 1 Masterlist

It's been almost three years since Nova Kane has been labeled a criminal and locked up in what the Ark residents call the Sky Box. She was in solitary confinement only receiving visits from the guards and her father, Marcus Kane.

Nova was never very welcoming to her father or the guards, after all, they're the reason why she was locked up in the first place. Nova was just a month and a half away from the fateful day that she would either be sentenced to death or she’ll be let to live once again amongst the Ark's residents.

On the Ark, any crime, no matter how small, is a sentence for death. Except if you are under the age of 18. If you are younger than 18, you will be locked up in the Sky Box where you will wait to get reviewed on your 18th birthday.

Nova sat on her bed reading a book, The Outsiders. It was her favorite. She always felt connected to the character's, especially Dallas Winston. He was misunderstood just like her.

As she was getting to her favorite part of the book, the rumble, her door opened. She sighed and looked up, her eyes meeting her fathers. "What are you doing here? It's not a visiting day."

"You're getting sent to the ground." Marcus bluntly states.

Nova takes a second to let the words register before she answers, "What? I thought it wasn't survivable?"

"Listen, Nova. This is your best chance at survival. You and 99 other prisoners are being sent to Earth today. You're strong, you've been training since you learned how to walk. The other prisoners are going to need a leader. A guard will be sent down with you too, but I have a feeling they won't want to listen to him-"

Nova cuts her dad's rant off, "They won't want to listen to me either, Marcus. I may be a prisoner but I'm still considered privileged."

Marcus sighs, frustrated that his daughter still refuses to call him dad. "Just be careful down there okay?" He takes his hand out of his pocket pulling out a knife. "For you to bring down. You can bring the book too, I know it's your favorite. Just make sure they stay hidden so the guards don't see it."

Nova nods and stands up placing both the book and the knife in the big pockets of her oversized jacket. Not even a minute later, the guards opened the door, "Kane we can't wait any longer. Prisoner 306, hold out your right arm."

Nova rolls her eyes but does as she's told, rolling up her sleeve so they can have access to her wrist. As soon as her sleeve is rolled up one of the guards locks a metal cuff around her wrist. Nova clenches her teeth in pain, but refuses to let out a noise and give the guards the satisfaction in knowing they hurt her.

"Alright, let's go." The guard grabs her roughly by the arm and pulls her out of her cell.

Behind her she hears her dad say, "Remember what I said Nova." She briefly looks back and nods, letting her father know that she heard him.

*_*_*_*_*_*

On the other side of the Sky Box is another girl that the Ark residents would consider privileged. Her name is Elara Sinclair. Elara has only been in the Sky Box for six months and her 18th birthday is a week away.

Elara isn't in solitary like Nova though. No, she has a cellmate by the name of Harper McIntyre. The two girls got close and we're nervously awaiting the day when Elara would probably be floated.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get out?" Harper asks.

"If I get out you mean." Elara says, rather morbidly.

"You can't think like that, E. So not if, when."

Elara cracked a small smile, "Probably just spend a lot of time with my parents. I hate only being able to see them once a week."

"And become Abby's personal medical assistant." Harper smiles.

"I'm pretty sure that place is already taken, but yeah. I would love to continue my medical training." Before Harper could reply, the girl's cell door opened to reveal two guards.

"Prisoners 397 and 398, turn around and hold out your right arm."

Both girls exchanged a nervous look but did as told, not wanting to anger the guards. "What's happening? I still have a week until I turn 18." Elara asks.

"Ow! What is this?" Harper questions, growing more concerned by the second.

Neither guard answers as they each grab the girls by the arm, "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Elara tries once more to get a straight answer from the guards. Her mouth falls open once they step out of the cell. In front of her she sees every prisoner leaving their cells with matching metal cuffs and a guard escorting them.

"They're killing us all!" Harper exclaims. Tears threaten to spill out of both girls' eyes.

"I didn't even get to tell my parents goodbye." Elara mumbles out.

Both girls watch with wide eyes as the guards drag them out of the Sky Box and towards a drop ship. "What the hell?" Elara says as it clicks, they aren't being floated, they're being sent to the ground.

Part of her is excited, she's dreamed of this since she was a girl after all. But then she remembers, it's supposed to take another 100 years for the ground to be survivable, they're sentencing them to death just in a different way then they usually do.

Harper and Elara are placed in seats beside a pretty brunette, they get strapped in and wait patiently as the rest of the prisoners are in their spots. "Hey, I'm Octavia." The pretty girl greets Harper and Elara.

"I'm Elara and this is Harper." She smiles nervously.

*_*_*_*_*_*

A few moments later, Nova is the last one brought into the ship. With one last rough pull by the guard Nova finally has enough. She tears her arm loose and elbows the guard in the face, slams her foot onto his toes then grabs his head to shove her knee into his face. The delinquents surrounding them look on, some with terrified faces and others in amusement.

The guard stumbles back, nose bleeding from the impact. "You bitch." The guard spits out.

"Oh screw you." She says, glaring angrily. Before the guard can react she takes the last seat available and straps herself in. The guard leaves the ship without another word.

When Nova looks up she realizes that everyone's eyes are on her, "Show's over. You can stop looking at me." Everyone quickly adverts their eyes, clearly afraid of the girl. All except one person that is, "Wells? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Sitting across from her is not one, but two of her best friends. Or at least they were growing up, she's changed a lot since she's been locked up. The boy she addressed, Wells, looks slightly shocked to see her. "Nova?"

Her eyes flicker to the passed out blonde beside him, "You came for her, didn't you? For Clarke?" She questions.

All he does is nod. The drop ship finally launches and chatter can be heard from the people around Nova, Wells, and Clarke. After a few seconds Clarke starts to move. "Welcome back- look." Wells starts.

"Wells, why the hell are you here?" Clarke asks, shocked.

Nova lets out a light laugh, though there isn't much humor to it, she hasn't really laughed in years. "I asked him the same thing. Though I used more colorful language."

"Nova?" The blonde gasps.

"Hey." The brunette simply says.

Wells brings Clarke's attention back to her, "When I found out they were sending prisoners to the ground, I got myself arrested. I came for you."Wells turns to address Nova, “I didn’t know your dad was sending you.”

Clarke looks shocked, no surprise there though. Before she can even think of a response the ship violently shakes. "What was that?" Clarke asks.

"That was the atmosphere." Wells answers.

A video starts playing, showing Chancellor Jaha, Wells' dad. "Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now. You've been given a second chance, and as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would've sent others. Frankly, we're sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

A male delinquent sitting somewhere to the right of Nova calls out, "Your dad is a dick, Wells."

"Wells is here?" Elara asks, looking to her roommate. Neither girl saw him when they got on the ship.

"Those crimes will be forgiven, your records wiped clean." the Chancellor continues. "The drop site has been chosen carefully. Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was to be stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain three hundred people for up to two years."

Delinquents start cheering as someone undoes their seatbelt floating up into the air, "Spacewalk bandit strikes again! Go Finn!"

"Check it out. Your dad floated me, after all." Finn says, floating in front of Wells, Clarke and Nova.

Nova can't help the small chuckle from making its way past her lips, despite her knowing that he was probably going to get himself killed for not being buckled.

"You should strap in before the parachutes deploy," Wells says.

"Don't unbuckle! It's dangerous!" Elara exclaims to other delinquents that start to follow Finn out of his seat. Nova whips her head in the direction of the voice, recognizing who it belongs too, though she is unable to see the girl who is like a sister to her.

Just after Elara finishes speaking, Clarke says, "Hey, you two, stay put if you want to live."

The Chancellor can still be heard on the screen, "Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately."

Finn, recognizing Clarke, says, "Hey, you're the traitor who's been in solitary for a year."

"You're the idiot who wasted a month of oxygen on an illegal spacewalk." Clarke snaps at the boy.

"But it was fun. I'm Finn."

Nova shakes her head as the Chancellor continues speaking, "Your one responsibility is stay alive."

The ship shakes again, Elara lets out a small scream as the three that got out of their seats are tossed through the air, "Stay in your seats. Finn, are you okay?" Clarke screams.

"Retrorockets ought to have fired by now." Wells states.

"Okay. Everything on this ship is a hundred years old, right? Just give it a second."

"Clarke, there's something I have to tell you. I'm sorry I got your father arrested."

Nova raises her eyebrows at the exchange, knowing the true story of how Clarke’s father got arrested. "Don't you talk about my father!" The blonde yells, trying to be heard over all the other noise in the drop ship.

"Please, I can't die knowing that you hate me."

"They didn't arrest my father, Wells. They executed him. I do hate you."

More yelling is heard throughout the ship and then a big crash. "Listen. No machine hum." A guy who sits across from Elara says.

The guy next to him smiles, "Whoa. That's a first."

Everyone starts to unbuckle and stand. Elara quickly rushes to the three boys that unbuckled during the journey, "Are they breathing?" She quickly asks Finn, just as Clarke makes it to them. All he does is shake his head.

Clarke looks at Elara about to say something, but a voice from below stops her, "The outer door is on the lower level. Let's go."

"No. We can't just open the doors." Clarke says, quickly rushing down the ladder.

Elara stays behind looking at Finn, "It's not your fault." She says.

He looks up at her, "It is. They followed me."

"Yeah. But that was their choice. There's 100 people on this ship and only two people followed. It was their choice, even after Clarke and I said not too."

Finn nods but still looks upset, "C'mon. Let's go see Earth." Elara holds out her hand for Finn to take. He gently smiles, grabbing her outstretched hand.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Once Nova unbuckled she didn't wait for anyone as she made her way down to the lower level. She shoved her way to the front, wanting to be one of the first people out of the crowded ship.

A guy in a guards uniform was standing by the door, "Hey, just back it up, guys."

"Stop. The air could be toxic." Clarke calls from the ladder.

"If the air is toxic, we're all dead, anyway."

"Bellamy?" A pretty girl asks, looking at the guard.

"My God, look how big you are."

The girl finally makes it to Bellamy, "What the hell are you wearing, a guard's uniform?"

"I borrowed it to get on the drop ship. Someone has got to keep an eye on you." They both hug.

Looking at his wrist Clarke calls, "Where's your wristband?"

"Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year." The girl snaps.

"No one has a brother." A guy yells out.

"That's Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor." A girl says in reply.

Octavia lunges forward to attack and Nova smirks. She likes her, she has spunk. "Octavia, Octavia, no." Her brother says, holding her back. "Let's give them something else to remember you by."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years."

As Bellamy pulls the lever, opening the door, Nova contemplates pushing past Octavia but decides against it. She likes the girl and can take her under her wing and make her a badass. She can't do that if the girl thinks she's a bitch for not allowing her to step out first.

Once the door is fully open, Octavia slowly steps down the ramp. When she reaches the end she jumps onto the ground, throws her hands in the air and screams, "We're back bitches!"

Nova runs out once the words leave the girls mouth. She takes a deep breath, holds her arms out, and lets her head fall back, closing her eyes. She lets the sun hit her exposed skin and she smiles. The first genuine smile that falls on her lips in three years.

Elara on the other hand is one of the last people to leave the ship. But when she does she has a huge smile lighting up her face. She spins in slow circles taking in every inch of Earth that she can see.

After both Nova and Elara get their fix of the ground they make their way over to Clarke, who stands by the drop ship looking at a map. Nova looks at Elara in surprise, "Lara?"

"Hey Nov." Elara smiles at the girl who was once her best friend. "I missed you."

"You too." Nova says quietly.

Their attention is brought back to Clarke as Wells comes out of the drop ship, "We got problems. The communication system is dead. I went to the roof. A dozen panels are missing. Heat fried the wires."

"Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather. See? Look. This is us." Clarke points to a place on the map as the other three look on, "This is where we need to get if we want to survive."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Wells questions, but then he answers himself, "Your father."

A voice from behind the four friends interrupts the conversation, "Ah, cool, a map. They got a bar in this town? I'll buy you a beer."

Wells puts a hand to the boy's chest, "You mind?"

"Hey, hey, hey, hands off of him. He's with us." Another delinquent, Murphy, says, breaking the contact.

"Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are." Wells says, trying to diffuse the situation.

"We're on the ground. That not good enough for you?" Bellamy calls, hearing the conversation.

"We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

"Screw your father. What, you think you're in charge here, you and the rest of the privileged?" Octavia spits, causing Nova to roll her eyes.

"Do you think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get and the harder this'll be." Clarke starts.

"We need Mount Weather to survive." Elara pipes in.

Clarke nods at her statement, "We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave now."

"I got a better idea. You four go, find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change." Bellamy says.

The delinquents start cheering. Nova scoffs, "You're all going to die down here."

Everyone looks at her, "What? It's true. We're not on vacation. We need supplies and Mount Weather is where those supplies are. Four of us can't carry back enough supplies for 98 people."

Wells speaks, "She's right. We all need to go."

"Look at this, everybody. The Chancellor and Vice Chancellor of Earth." Murphy jokes.

Nova once again rolls her eyes, she has a feeling that this will be a common occurrence down on Earth. "You think that's funny?' Wells asks.

Murphy grabs Wells, tripping him. "Wells!" Clarke and Elara call out in concern.

"No, but that was." Murphy smiles. Wells stands up, limping on the foot that got twisted on his way down. He goes to put up his fists but Nova steps in between the two.

"He has one good leg. If you want to fight someone maybe choose someone so it's a fair fight." She states, glaring.

"You mean you? 'Cause I'll gladly fight you any day, Angel."

"That wouldn't be a fair fight." She states, clenching her jaw at the unwelcomed nickname.

"You afraid of me?" He smirks.

Nova smirks back, "I meant for you. Now move along, unless you want to get your ass kicked."

Murphy scoffs, “Like you could actually hurt me.”

The boy with the goggles mumbles from behind Murphy, “Clearly you didn’t see her take on the guard.”

At his words, Murphy looks Nova up and down but decides against actually fighting the girl. As Murphy and his crew finally back away, Finn makes his presence known, "So Mount Weather. When do we leave?"

"Right now. We'll be back tomorrow with food." Clarke says.

"I'm staying. Someone with medical experience should be here in case anyone gets hurt." Elara says as she finishes wrapping Wells' ankle.

"How are the three of you gonna carry enough food for 98 people?" Wells asks.

Finn turns and grabs the two closest guys, one of which includes goggles boy, "Five of us. Can we go now?"

"Sounds like a party. Make it six." Octavia says joining the group.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Bellamy asks his sister.

"Going for a walk." She casually answers.

Clarke turns to Finn, grabbing his wrist, "Hey, were you trying to take this off?"

"Yeah, so?" He answers, shrugging.

"So this wristband transmits your vital signs to the Ark. Take it off, and they'll think you're dead."

"Should I care?"

"Well, I don't know. Do you want the people you love to think you're dead? Do you want them to follow you down here in two months? Because they won't if they think we're dying." Finn nods, "Now let's go."

*_*_*_*_*_*

As Nova and the group of six make their way through the forest, Clarke seems to be impatient. She walks ahead from the rest, focused on reaching their destination. Finn grabs a flower from the ground and places it in Octavia's hair.

"Now, that, my friend, is game." Jasper, the boy with the goggles says to his friend, Monty.

"That, my friend, is poison sumac." Monty replies.

Octavia hurriedly wipes the flower out of her hair, "What? It is?"

"The flowers aren't poisonous. They're medicinal, calming, actually." He states.

"His family grows all the pharmaceuticals on the Ark." Jasper says, explaining how his friend knows so much about the plant.

"Hey, guys, would you try to keep up?" Clarke calls, turning around to look at everyone.

"Come on, Clarke. How do you block all this out?" Finn questions the blonde.

"Well, it's simple. I wonder, why haven't we seen any animals? Maybe it's because there are none. Maybe we've already been exposed to enough radiation to kill us. Sure is pretty, though. Come on."

"Someone should slip her some poison sumac." Octavia mumbles to the rest of us. Jasper snorts and Nova allows a smirk to fall on her lips.

"If we've been exposed to enough radiation to kill us then we're already dead. Might as well enjoy our last moments, Clarke." Nova says to her friend.

Finn turns to the other two boys, "I got to know what you two did to get busted."

Monty replies, "Sumac isn't the only herb in the garden, if you know what I mean."

"Someone forgot to replace what we took." Jasper says, casting an accusing eye at Monty.

"Someone has apologized, like, a thousand times."

"What about you Nova? What'd they get you for?"

"Yeah, all we ever heard were rumors." Finn adds.

"Murder." Nova states simply.

Up ahead Clarke stops, "What? My mom said you stole."

Nova shakes her head, "It was a cover. My dad, Jaha, and your mom were the only ones who knew the truth. And of course me and the guy I killed."

"Remind me not to get on her bad side." She hears Jasper whisper to Monty.

Nova turns around smirking, "Don't worry. That guy had it coming. The only person down here I may consider murdering is Murphy. At least it's just him for now."

The group slows to a stop as they spot a deer in front of them. "No animals, huh?" Finn whispers to Clarke. Finn steps forward to get a better look at the animal but steps on a stick. The deer looks up and turns to see what made the noise.

They all gasp. The deer has two faces.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Elara and Wells walked away from the camp looking for water. "Clarke still doesn't know?" Elara asks.

"No, and you're not going to tell her."

"Seriously? You don't need to remind me, Wells." She pauses, "We shouldn't be walking around for long. You need to rest your ankle."

Wells nods and they start to loop around to head back to the camp.

Once they see the drop ship a voice calls out, "Find any water yet?"

Looking up Elara and Wells spot Murphy, "No, not yet, but, we're going back out soon if you want to come."

Murphy turns his attention to the side of the drop ship, carved into the metal is 'First son first to dye'. He chuckles then says to Wells, "You know, my father, he begged for mercy in the airlock chamber when your father floated him."

Wells just looks at him, "You spelled die wrong, genius."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Continuing their trek through the woods, Finn asks no one in particular, "Hey, you know what I'd like to know? Why send us down today after ninety seven years? What changed?"

"Who cares?" Octavia speaks up, "I'm just glad they did. I woke up rotting in a cell, and now I'm spinning in a forest."

"Maybe they found something on a satellite, you know, like an old weather satellite or it wasn't a satellite." Monty says. Nova knits her eyebrows together in confusion at his words.

"The Ark is dying. At the current population level, there's roughly three months left of life support, maybe four now that we're gone." Clarke answers.

"So that was the secret they locked you up to keep, why they kept you in solitary, floated your old man?" Finn questions.

"My father was the engineer who discovered the flaw. He thought the people had a right to know. The Council disagreed. My mother disagreed. They were afraid it would cause a panic. We were gonna go public, anyway, when Wells-" She trails off.

"What, turned in your dad?" Monty asks.

Clarke nods, "The guard showed up before we could. That's why today. That's why it was worth the risk. Even if we all die, at least they bought themselves more time."

Nova lets out a humorless laugh, "Wow, never thought my dad would get to send me to my death twice."

An awkward silence settles among the group as Octavia and Nova speed up, the rest staying slightly behind to talk more about the topic.

Not hearing the conversation happening behind them, Nova and Octavia exchange a smile. They found water, a river to be exact. Both girls immediately reach to peel off their shirts, throwing them to the ground.

Behind them Jasper's voice can be heard, "Oh, damn, I love Earth." The four delinquents not stripping look on in shock, though the three boys can't help but check out the two girls.

"Octavia, Nova, what the hell are you doing?" Clarke asks.

The two girls glance back at the group when they hear their names being called, they look at each other once more then step over the edge, landing in the water with a splash.

The other four run over, looking down at the top of the girls head. Only the nose and eyes on both girls are showing above the water. "Nova, Octavia! We can't swim!" Monty nervously says.

The two brunettes move so their heads are now above the water, "We know." Nova states.

Octavia continues, "But we can stand." They both stand up exposing the top half of their bodies.

The group still on land starts stripping to get in the water but before they can Jasper calls out, "Get out of the water! Octavia, Nova, get out!"

Octavia and Nova both look at him confused, but not even a minute later Octavia gets pulled in the water by something large. Nova gasps and quickly rushes to get out of the water, simultaneously trying to find something to help Octavia.

Finn reaches down to help Nova up as the rest of the group push a rock into the water hoping to distract whatever grabbed Octavia. As soon as the creature lets the brunette go Jasper quickly helps her out. "Not to self, next time, save the girl." Monty says looking at Octavia and Jasper, and Nova and Finn.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Wells and Elara once again made their way back to camp. They still couldn't find water which wasn't good considering they kinda needed some to survive. It was starting to get dark though so they would have to continue their search the next day.

The two friends looked at each curiously when they heard cheers from the delinquents. Finally reaching the group surrounded, who had a fire started, they see a girl, Fox, getting her wristband taken off. "Who's next?" Bellamy calls out.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wells angrily shouts.

"We're liberating ourselves. What does it look like?"

"You're killing us." Elara gasps out. "The wristbands are the only way the Ark knows we're alive. If you take them off the Ark will think we're dying."

"That's the point, sweetheart. We can take care of ourselves, can't we?" The group cheers at Bellamy's words.

"You think this is a game?" asks Wells, "Those aren't just our friends and parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers. I don't care what he tells you. We won't survive here on our own, and besides, if it is really safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?"

"My people are already down. Those people," Bellamy points to the sky, "locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your father did that."

"My father didn't write the laws."

"No. He enforced them, but not anymore. not here. Here, there are no laws."

Once again the group cheers, so Bellamy continues. "Here, we do whatever the hell we want whenever the hell we want. Now, you don't have to like it. You can even try to stop it or change it, kill me. You know why? Whatever the hell we want."

The delinquents chorus, "Whatever the hell we want!" Then, out of seemingly nowhere, it starts to rain. Elara gasps and raises her head to the sky, letting the rain hit her face.

Elara catches someone watching her out of the corner of her eye, she turns her head to make eye contact. Her mouth drops in shock as the boy smiles at her.

He makes his way over and awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, "Hey Elara. What do you say about a kiss in the rain? If I remember correctly it was something you always wanted to do."

Elara snorts, "Yeah, but that was before we broke up, Atlas."

"What, so you won't let me kiss you one last time?" He asks with a cheeky smile.

"Not happening." Elara replies, though she can’t hide the smile that falls onto her lips.

*_*_*_*_*_*

The next day the group of six that went to find food make it their mission to safely cross the river. As soon as they find a vine they can swing from, Finn volunteers to go first.

He keeps hesitating to cross though, "You wanted to go first. Now quit stalling." Clarke calls out.

"Just hang on till the apogee, and you'll be fine." Jasper says from Finn's side.

"The apogee like the Indians, right?" Finn asks.

"Apogee, not apache."

"He knows. Today, Finn." Clarke says.

"Aye, aye, captain. See you on the other side."

Just as he's about to swing Jasper stops him, "Wait. Let me. I can do it."

Finn looks at him with a smile, "Knew there was a badass in there somewhere." Jasper hesitates, "Hey, it's okay to be afraid, Jasper. The trick is not fighting it." Finn reassures the boy.

"See you on the other side." He swings, whooping and hollering the whole way across.

The other five delinquents cheer happily when he reaches the other side. "Let's go, Princess. You're up." Finn says to Clarke.

Jasper reaches down, picking up a sign that says Mount Weather. The other five cheer one more time as Clarke goes to grab the vine. Before she gets the chance though, from somewhere behind them a spear flies straight into Jasper's chest.

"Jasper!" The group calls out.

"Get down!" Nova exclaims, pulling Octavia and Monty, the two that were closest to her down.

"We're not alone." Clarke whispers to the group.

#The 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 rewrite #series rewrite

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whateveriwant · 4 years

Text

Just a Glance

Summary: Your anxiety’s been getting the best of you lately, feeling as if you’re being watched. Is your mind playing tricks on you, or will your fears be realized?

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: stalking, paranoia, implied NON-CON (no descriptions)

A/N: Hello! So, this is the follow-up to “Just a Taste”, but told from the reader’s perspective this time. While it’s not imperative you read that story first (or at all, really), I highly suggest you do so. As always: heed the warnings! And as a general disclaimer: I DO NOT condone the actions depicted below. To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy! Gif found here.

It’s Saturday morning – time to do your weekly grocery shopping. As always, the first stop is at the local farmer’s market. You like coming here not only for the fresh produce, but also to chat with the vendors you’ve become friendly with. You could spend all day talking with them – almost have once or twice – but you have other places you still need to hit today.

It doesn’t hurt to note that making good with the vendors may have some monetary benefits for you, but that’s just an added bonus – the cherry on top. Talking animatedly as the vendors package your slightly reduced-price items, you accidentally whack a few unsuspecting customers while gesturing wildly. You cringe and apologize profusely for your carelessness. Despite being assaulted, the patrons accept your apologies and wish you a good day – letting you off scot-free.

Next stop on your shopping trip is the supermarket. You buy the bulk of your items here: frozen goods, dairy products, various non-perishables. This store has almost everything you need, apart from a few essentials – some absolute necessities: your favorite madeleines, strawberry sorbet, and chocolate-covered pretzels amongst other things; these you can only get from one particular store. But, thankfully, it’s on the way home – your perishables won’t spoil while you run in and grab your few items.

You drive to the store, humming along to your playlist coming through the car’s speakers. When you arrive at the shop, it’s as bustling as ever. Many people must have similar mindsets to you: thinking this shop offers some of the most delicious treats in town. You walk through the familiar aisles knowing exactly where your favorite snacks are housed. You find the pretzels and madeleines easily enough, but can’t find the sorbet. It’s always on the same shelf in the same freezer, but not today.

You start strolling past the freezers, looking through each one – desperately hoping the sorbet’s just been moved and not sold out. Or worse, discontinued. As you search, you pay no mind to the other shoppers around you – your brain totally focused on your mission. Out of nowhere, you walk face-first into what seems to be a steel wall – almost falling on your ass and dropping your basket.

Upon steadying yourself, you realize you didn’t walk into a wall but, rather, a man. A very handsome man, at that. Damn, how did you miss that? Strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, built like a tank – he could be very intimidating if he wanted to be.

You apologize for bumping into him, explaining that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. He brushes off your apology – all but warning you to watch yourself next time – before he continues past you. He wasn’t as friendly as the people from the farmer’s market, you remark. But it was your fault anyway, so you can’t really blame him for being terse with you.

You continue down the aisle until – hallelujah – you spot your prize. It seems they’d simply moved the sorbet to a different freezer. You grab it from the top shelf, dispense it in your basket, and finish shopping – easily finding the rest of your goodies. After purchasing and loading the items into your car, you drive home – absentmindedly singing to your music.

~~~~~

The following week passes by as usual. On Sunday morning, you meet with your friends for brunch. While Katherine had originally suggested checking out the new omelet place in town, you sided with Layla on wanting to go to your regular pancake house. Thus, you three catch up over fluffy, syrup-y flapjacks – discussing how your respective weeks went.

Nothing incredibly remarkable happened to any of you. Katherine mentions how her boss is hounding her lately, making an ugly face to mock him. Her expression makes you laugh, choking on a bite of pancake. Layla had a saucy date night with her boyfriend on Friday. Her descriptions cause you to pause mid-chew, imagining the position she's graphically detailing.

Your most exciting contribution to the conversation is the mini heart attack you had at the store yesterday. Your friends understand your reaction; having had a taste of your favorite sorbet before, they know why you went feral when searching for it. After eating, splitting the bill, and promising "same time next week", you all head in your separate directions.

Following Sunday brunch, you go to the bookstore – seeing if they’ve gotten any new titles in since last week. Browsing the shelves, you spot a new mystery novel that piques your interest. You buy the book, planning to read it during your lunch breaks and after work.

The remainder of your week follows in monotony. Work Monday through Friday, Netflix and novels during free time, occasional morning runs to burn off the calories from your insatiable sweet-tooth – your routine is well-ingrained into your system. On only one occasion did you forget to bring your new book to work – instead, bringing the one you finished the previous week. It’s not the first time this has happened. You can be forgetful when deviating from your routine.

Come Saturday, it's time to go grocery shopping again. As usual, the first stop is the farmer’s market, second is the supermarket, and third is your favorite store. Luckily, you haven’t run out of your pint of sorbet from last week. Thus, you don’t bother traipsing the freezer section. You did, however, gobble through the madeleines and pretzels – forcing you to replenish your stock.

Wading through the busy aisles, you zero in on your target: pretzels – top shelf, right-hand side. The aisle is crowded, making you have to squeeze past a few shoppers in order to get to your prize. As you reach up to grab the bag, you feel someone brush up against you – likely trying to squeeze behind just as you had done moments ago.

The scent of cedarwood and mint trails after the person, overpowering your sense of smell. That guy wears too much cologne, you chide. You turn your head to look at him, seeing his jacket-clad broad shoulders and blonde hair peeking from under his baseball cap. He must be in a hurry since he swiftly departs the aisle. But you’ve been in his place before: running into the store for only one or two items. In those instances, you didn’t bother grabbing a basket – just as he hadn’t today.

You purchase your few items, load your car, and drive out of the parking lot. Glancing in your rearview mirror, you notice a couple of cars also leaving the grocery store and heading in the same direction as you. You blast your playlist as you drive, impatiently waiting until you can get home and dig into your snacks.

~~~~~

The next few weeks pass more or less the same. Sunday mornings are spent brunching with your friends. You eventually cave and agree to try out the omelet place Katherine suggested; but, upon finding the meal lackluster, you all decide to stick with your usual restaurants next time.

You finish the novel you've been reading. The book was so intriguing that you decide to check out more of the author's work, buying another title from the bookstore. This one is similarly a mystery novel, but it's supposedly more chilling – has much more suspense that builds the feeling of dread in the audience.

You go on morning runs after you have one too many scoops of sorbet the prior night. Running your usual route, you pass by an unfamiliar car parked outside your neighbor's house. You didn't realize Mr. Nelson's son was in town again, assuming that's who the vehicle belongs to. You've never met the man before, but he must be kind-hearted seeing as he's willing to visit and care for his elderly father. Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet him soon.

The days come and go. Working through the week, shopping on the weekend, reading in your free time – nothing is intrinsically different. And yet, something feels off. You can’t explain it. You just have a feeling – a sixth sense, almost. And the sensation only grows as the weeks progress.

At times, you feel as if someone is watching you – boring holes into you. No matter where you are – home, work, shopping – you feel like there’s a set of eyes on you, observing you closely. Furthermore, sometimes you swear you can see a shadow lingering in the corner of your eye. But when you turn to look directly at it, it’s disappeared – vanished in an instant.

Your friends and coworkers notice you getting lost in your thoughts, having to snap you from your daze. When you explain the sensation you’re experiencing, they brush you off – none of them finding any evidence to support your claims. You also don’t have any tangible proof for your assertions, just that feeling in your gut.

You decide to chalk it all up to the novel you’re reading. Must be the book’s foreboding feeling carrying over into real life, you rationalize. Resolving to ignore the pestering thoughts popping up in the back of your mind, you try to continue about your days as normal.

~~~~~

It’s Monday morning – time to go to work. On the drive there, you stop to get your coffee – turning down your music so you don’t have to scream your order through the drive-through. Once you reach the office, you make busy at your desk: going through your emails, checking your calendar; all the usual routine.

A couple of hours into your work, you have that sensation you’ve been feeling the last few weeks. You’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it lately, but you occasionally happen a glance just to humor yourself. When you turn to look towards the shadow – expecting to see nothing as usual – you gasp.

A burly man stands outside your office window, inches away from the glass. His face is partially obscured by his aviators and baseball cap. Though you can’t see his eyes, you know his gaze is directed at you. You stare back at him, a look of confusion crossing your face. He curls one corner of his lip up before walking away – out of your line of sight.

Swiveling your chair to face your coworker, you ask her if she saw that man outside the window. She doesn’t know what you’re referring to, being too wrapped up in her work to notice anything else. Despite her lack of confirmation, you know you’re not going crazy; there was most definitely a man out there watching you. An uneasy feeling washes over you. Maybe those pestering thoughts aren’t so unfounded, you worry.

Throughout the rest of your day, you continue looking towards the windows – expecting him to show up again. He doesn’t return that day. However, the following morning, you see him again – standing outside your office wearing his hat and sunglasses like last time. Once he catches your eye, he smirks, before turning to walk away. This routine continues through the rest of your work week, making you more anxious as each day passes.

Come Saturday, you desperately need to go shopping – having stress-eaten all of your snacks throughout the week. Your anxiety not only affected your appetite, but also your sleep. Over the last couple of days, you’ve come home from work to find your front door unlocked – it apparently having slipped your tired brain in the morning. You double-check that you’ve locked the door before going shopping.

At the farmer’s market, you happily chat with the vendors – feeling much less perturbed than you have all week. That is, until something – or rather, someone – catches your eye across the way. It’s that man again. He’s here, at the farmer’s market, watching you.

Your voice catches mid-sentence as your breath is stolen from you. You stand stock-still, unable to remove your wide eyes from him. The vendor notices your change in demeanor and waves a hand in front of your face, trying to regain your attention. The distraction pulls your gaze from the man in order to pay for your produce. When you look back across the way, he’s gone – leaving no trace that he was ever there to begin with.

But you know better – know your eyes weren’t deceiving you. That was the same man that’s been at your office all week. The same man that’s been watching you all week. And now, he’s seemingly followed you here.

Panic starts to rise as you walk to your car, contemplating just cutting your shopping trip short and going home. But you can’t do that; you need to buy groceries and this is the only day you can do so. You decide to continue with your normal shopping routine and just be quick about it – no dawdling.

You play your music at a low volume as you drive to your next destination. Doing a speed-run through the supermarket, you practically rip the items off of the shelves in your haste. Every now and then, you peek around the corners of the aisles – expecting to see him standing at the end. You never do, and that makes you release a sharp exhale each time your fears are rejected.

Your drive to your third shopping location is less tense, humming slightly to your playlist. At the store, you still chance a look down the aisles just in case, but you never find him waiting there. Unfortunately, you also don’t find any of your normal goodies – the madeleines, sorbet, and pretzels all gone.

You wander the aisles for what feels like hours, hoping to find the items stocked elsewhere. Upon realizing they are indeed sold out, you become crestfallen. It’s already too late into the day to hit up another store and your frozen goods are likely starting to defrost in your car. Thus, you decide to find some replacement snacks to tide you over until next week – just until you can return and hopefully repurchase your normal treats.

The drive home is worry-free as you sing loudly to your music. You continue humming the tune as you collect your groceries from your car, making your way to the front door. When you go to open it, you find it’s already unlocked. Strange. You swear you locked up this morning.

You step through the threshold, closing the door behind you. As you walk towards your kitchen, you smell something in the air – almost an earthy-toothpaste kind of scent. Strange. The smell differs greatly from the normal lavender air freshener you use. Perhaps, not only did you leave the door unlocked, but maybe you also left a window open and the scent is wafting in that way.

You unload your groceries, putting everything on their appropriate shelves and cabinets. When you open the freezer to dispense your frozen goods, you halt your movements. Sitting on the shelf is a pint of your favorite strawberry sorbet. Strange. You swear you finished off the carton last night. Regardless, you celebrate the revelation – knowing what you’re going to snack on tonight. You finish putting away the groceries before going to spend the rest of your day reading.

Later that night when you’re getting ready for dessert, you reach into the freezer for the sorbet. As you grab it, you notice the weight of it – seemingly a full pint rather than an almost finished one. You look the container over, seeing for the first time a small note taped to it. You definitely didn’t leave that there; you’d have no reason to leave yourself notes on a pint of sorbet. You read the few words of the unfamiliar, looped handwriting: “I hope you taste just as sweet”.

You gasp, dropping the carton onto the counter. It all makes sense now: the unlocked door, the lingering scent, the note on the carton – someone's been in your home, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know who the intruder is.

You grab your phone, frantically dialing the police and explaining the situation. You stay on the line as they send a couple of officers to your home. They search every inch of the house, finding no signs of forced entry and no other evidence someone has been there. With nothing else to offer you, they suggest investing in new locks before leaving you to stew in your anxiety. You sleep uneasily that night.

The next morning, you’re hesitant to leave your house – not yet having told your friends about your discovery last night. However, you figure telling them in-person over brunch is as good an opportunity as ever. Reluctantly, you make your way out the door – triple-checking that you’ve locked it. You drive to the restaurant with your music playing low, frequently checking your rearview mirror.

Upon greeting your friends, they can immediately tell something is off with you – your usual cheery demeanor completely absent. Attempting to keep your composure so as not to work yourself up more, you carefully explain everything that’s led up to today. Remarkably, you don’t break down in tears as you detail your experiences from the past week.

However, your friends fly off the handle at your confession – concern flooding their every feature. Layla offers to help you book an appointment with a home security company – her boyfriend having previously worked there. Katherine advises you on ways to get your stalker off of your trail: changing up your routine, taking complex routes to your destinations, and always staying vigilant. You thank them for their help and take their words to heart.

Brunch passes in uncomfortable silence – at least, from your end. Your friends try to pick up your mood – try dragging you out of your swirling thoughts – but to no avail. You pick at your food, your appetite not having fully returned since last night. Most of the conversation goes in one ear and out the other, your attention too focused on the bodies passing by the restaurant’s windows. As you take your leave after the meal, your friends each give you a firm hug – telling you to call them if you need anything or if anything else happens.

You decide to forego stopping by the bookstore, just wanting to quickly return home. You take different streets back, heeding Katherine’s advice. The drive is silent as you focus your attention on the road – your eyes frequently flicking to your rearview mirrors. You didn’t see him at the restaurant and you don’t notice any cars obviously following you, but that doesn’t dissipate your fears.

The drive takes longer than usual, but, eventually, you arrive back home. Your hand shakes as you reach for the door, hoping – praying – it’s just as you left it. The door is locked as you try the handle. You let out a sharp breath, relief flooding your veins.

You check through your house anyway, finding nothing out of the ordinary in any of the rooms. You sigh in contentment, reassured that no one else has been here. Walking towards the back of the house, you notice a smell get stronger and stronger as you approach your bedroom. The scent is familiar – calling back memories from yesterday – and your fear renews tenfold.

You push on the door, letting it smack against the wall as it swings open. In the center of your bed lies a small, white box. You walk towards it, feeling your heart beating frantically. On the box rests a note – the same looped script from yesterday defiling the otherwise pristine paper. “I can’t wait to have a taste,” the writing reads.

Lifting the lid, you peer into the box’s contents. A package of your favorite madeleines – the ones that were sold out the other day – await you. Tears spring to your eyes as you dash out of the house, once again phoning the police.

~~~~~

The following week passes by in a frenzy. After the police could again find nothing of value – apart from the two notes now in your possession – you take Layla up on her offer, scheduling a new security system to be installed as soon as possible.

It takes a few days for the workman to show up. In the days that pass, you're greeted with another treat-filled box each night you return home from work – the attached notes bearing more and more cryptic and chilling sentiments.

Once the high-tech system is installed, you're given the walk-through on how to operate it. It's a bit complex – all the buttons, codes, and alarms differing greatly from your former lock-and-key mechanism – but it'll give you some peace of mind. It takes some getting used to over the first couple of days, but it starts becoming second nature to remember to set the alarm. The notes stop appearing after the system is installed.

All the while, you follow Katherine's advice to a T. You change up your routine. With some coaxing, your boss agrees to change your hours – having you in the office much more frequently. You stop going on morning runs, choosing instead to work out in the confines of your house. When you do find time to go shopping, you try new stores. The aisles are unfamiliar and the items aren't as delicious as what you're used to, but you'll settle for just about anything at this point.

You start taking long, complex routes anytime you drive somewhere: work, the store, home. A couple of times, you find yourself driving your old routes – absentmindedly listening to your playlist; you chastise yourself on those occasions, having to double around and take twice as long to reach your destination. To make it easier on yourself, you start opting to drive in complete silence – focusing all of your attention on your surroundings.

You try abiding to Katherine's final piece of advice most strictly: staying vigilant. You haven't seen him since that day at the farmer's market, but you still have that gut feeling that he isn't far away – that he'll catch you if you slip up.

You check through your house every time you come home, making sure no more "gifts" have been delivered in your absence. You watch your rearview mirrors almost as much as you watch the road, making sure your car isn't being tailed. Every thorough search and paranoid glance always comes up empty, but you can’t stop yourself from doing them.

It gets a bit tedious at times – going to such extreme lengths over this whole matter. But it's better than having to constantly look over your shoulder, you remind yourself. Though, that's exactly what you're doing. Only, you don't realize it.

~~~~~

The past week has been killer on you. With your new work hours, you’ve been at the office non-stop – sacrificing many hours of sleep. The sleep-deprivation coupled with your ever-present anxiety have taken a toll on you – your body exhausted and brain fried.

On several occasions, you’ve caught yourself slipping back into your old routines: driving the direct rather than extended route to work, forgetting to set the alarm until hours after you’ve already been home, visiting your old stores rather than new ones. You’ve been trying to keep a watchful eye out for yourself, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep your eyes open at all as the days drag along.

Thus, when you get home tonight, all you want to do is slump into bed and sleep the night away. You unlock your front door – immediately kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse on the entryway table. You kick the door closed before slinking away to your bedroom – barely being able to ready yourself for bed. Once you lie down, sleep promptly overtakes you.

You rest deeply for a few minutes, finally finding some peace. That is, until a sudden noise snaps you awake: the sound of the front door clicking shut. Your eyes fly open, sleep now the farthest thing from your mind. Shit! Someone’s here. Someone’s in your home.

Upon instinct, you know exactly who it is. It’s that man. The man who’s been following you for weeks. The man who’s been terrorizing you for weeks. The man who’s been haunting your dreams for weeks.

You reach over to your nightstand, searching for your phone. It’s not there. You failed to take it out of your purse when you got home. Just like you failed to set the house alarm when you got home. Just like you failed to see the black sedan following you home.

With no other choice, your best option is to hide and hope he goes away – hope he doesn’t find you. You carefully step out of bed – the floorboard making an unholy creak as you gingerly place your foot down. He’ll definitely have heard that, and he’ll be on you any second. In your panic, you fly under the bed – deciding it’s the least obvious hiding spot.

Even in the darkened room, you can see your door swing open and his shoes approach the bed. Your heart beat is thunderous – pumping so much blood through your ears that it drowns out the noise of his footsteps. You put a hand over your mouth as tears begin to fall, trying to choke back the sounds of your whimpers. The tears spill over your cheeks as you watch him move carefully.

He walks to your closet, rifling through it before obviously coming up empty. Next, he moves to your bathroom – spending only a few moments before, again, coming up empty. He walks back towards the bedroom door before stopping at the foot of the bed, directly in front of you. You hold your breath, not willing to make a single sound. The room is still for a moment.

Then, with lightning speed, he crouches down – snatching you out from underneath the bed. His hand quickly replaces yours, covering your mouth and nose. He falls on top of you – his body weighing you down on the bed, trapping you beneath him. You try to scratch at him, but he easily captures your wrists – pinning them between your bodies.

He adjusts his hold on your face, maneuvering his hand to let you breathe through your nose. You intake a sharp breath – the scent of his cologne stings your nostrils, suffocating you. He leans forward to sniff along your neck – causing an icy chill to run up your spine.

He lifts himself slightly, allowing you to see his unobstructed face up close. His irises almost glow in the dim lighting – his eyes peering down at you, penetrating you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before speaking.

“Just a taste,” he purrs against you, calling back to those notes he left you weeks ago. “That's all I want. Just a taste."

Though his words are innocent enough, the hungry glint in his eyes betrays him. That look tells you what he’s really thinking: he’s finally caught you and this is only the beginning.

__________

A/N: Sorry if you wanted to see exactly what happens next, but I’ll just leave that up to your imaginations. Regardless, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @charmed-asylum @mcudarklibrary @delicioustar (strikethrough won’t let me tag)

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #oneshot

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koko-doodle · 4 years

Text

Danny Phantom: Spectral Shadows

PROLOGUE

It’s been a week since I was officially adopted. After living in the foster system for so long, I never thought I would end up belonging to someone. I believed I was going to be alone my whole life with no place I belong, or no place that really felt like home. I mean, who would want to adopt a delinquent 15 year old into their family? I close my textbook and sit back in my chair with a long exasperated sigh. Did I really just think that? Those are such cliche thoughts, I sound like the end of a storybook or something. I shake my head and look up to the window across the room. It had started to lightly rain and I watched the small drops of water hit the window with a soft tapping noise.

Three weeks ago is when this whole thing started. I never would have imagined that I would be out of the foster care system, let alone be living with the richest man in the country. When I was younger and dreamed about the day I would belong to a family, I didn’t exactly picture Vlad Masters as my adoptive father. He’s not exactly the most approachable person I’ve ever met, he doesn’t seem to have many relationships with people and considering how we met, you’d think a normal person wouldn’t invite someone who broke into their house to live with them permanently.

It started when I ran away from the foster home I lived in, I couldn’t handle being there anymore. It was suffocating. I was never good enough for any of the foster parents I lived with, always causing too much trouble and getting into fights often at school. I’ve never lasted longer than a year in a foster home. After a very intense fight with my current foster parents I packed what little I have and ran. I stole a car and took off, I had no idea where I was going. I just wanted out.

Once out of town I took what I thought would be a shortcut through the mountains, ended up running out of gas and ditching the car on the side of the road. When it got dark I found a nice cabin in the woods. It was fairly large and expensive looking so I assumed it belonged to some rich person who only stayed there once a year. There were no lights on or anything so I picked the lock and went inside. That was a mistake, I should have checked for a security system.

I stocked up on the non-perishables left in the kitchen and snacked on some chips and granola bars. I went to the main living area and sat on the couch figuring out a plan for the next morning and eventually fell asleep. Next thing I know it’s the middle of the night and there is a man standing over me with his arms folded. I freaked out of course, I don’t know how he got in or where he got in. Come to think of it, I still don’t know how he got in without making a sound.

After an earful of an argument he agreed to let me spend the rest of the night. In the morning I found him going through my bag and I flipped. He eventually found out I had run away and was not planning on going back. I made some threats but he never even flinched. He was so stubborn and not listening to a single thing I said, it really pissed me off. I snagged my things and took off again, not listening to anything he was saying about the woods not being safe for a kid. I’m not a kid and I can handle myself.

I just followed the road and hoped someone would come passing through by chance. After 5 hours of walking, I found myself back at his stupid cabin. I was so frustrated, it didn’t make it any better that he came walking out of the cabin with a ridiculous smirk. He teased me of course and his smug attitude really set me off but… I think that is when I started to like him. He’s different than most adults I’ve ever known, he doesn’t react to my defensive comments by yelling back like most adults do. Just brushes them off like he never heard them or teases me with a smart mouth comment right back.

He talked me into coming back in and eating dinner, he had made spaghetti with what he had in the storage. We ate dinner then sat by the fire and just talked. I feel like I was a bit confrontational with him at first, short tempered too but I knew he was going to try to convince me to go back to my foster parents. He never did though. He just asked me questions about me. Favorite subject, favorite hobby, my story… He just listened. It was nice…

He never told me anything other than his name was Vlad and he flew in on his helicopter when his security system was tripped. He talked a little bit about his job and where he attended college, never mentioned what he was studying. When we talked about sports I had to laugh at how excited he got when talking about his favorite team the Packers. He said he had quite the collection back at his mansion. After our very long conversation he showed me to a spare bedroom to sleep in instead of on the couch. It was the softest bed I’ve ever slept on in my life, I still remember getting under the covers and how soft they were.

In the morning, he made breakfast and then put me to work. I refused at first, saying I still planned to leave but he promised to show me the right road out of the mountains after I helped him. We worked inside and outside, he was always ranting about something as we worked and I had a snarky comment for every funny thing I found. It was actually quite fun. We took breaks and for lunch but by the time we finished everything, it was too dark to travel. He told me to stay another night since night travel is dangerous so I did. I honestly just really wanted to sleep in that bed again but I never told him that.

In the morning while we were eating breakfast, there was a knock at the door. He was gone for quite a while so I went to spy on him and whoever he was taking to. Of course he was talking with two officers, I was shocked to hear that he was telling them about me. That really boiled my blood, he had promised he wouldn’t tell anyone but he lied. When the officers spotted me in the corner of the room, it was all over. They had been out looking for me, they found the vehicle I stole and knew I couldn’t have gotten far. They forced me to grab my things and put me in their vehicle.

As they were thanking Vlad for keeping “the kid” here and not letting me go off he asked to speak to me before they left. I wasn’t going to. He lied and he was acting all heroic in front of the officers. He told me to relax and everything would work out but I couldn’t help but shout at him. I would have given anything at that moment to bolt it from that car, I told him he was a liar and just like every other adult. Everything he told me were just empty words, and nothing he said was making what he did better so I stopped listening.

He watched as the officers drove off with me in the car.

When I got back, I got an earful from every single adult. From the officers, the police chief, my foster parents, the social worker. Everyone told me I had been extremely reckless and made poor choices, everything they said was a blur. I never really listened. I was so distracted by the time I spent with Vlad and how he had lied to me. It shouldn’t have hurt so bad, I should be used to adults making half hearted promises and saying things they don’t mean but I couldn’t understand why I was having such a hard time with what Vlad had done. He did what any responsible adult would do, he was the hero and I was the victim. He had saved the day.

The next week was torture. It had gotten out on the news that I had run away and the “heroic” Vlad Masters saved me from being lost in the woods or getting eaten by a bear. My classmates had new insults for me everyday. I tried to tune them out but when one guy in particular mentioned how I can’t even run away properly, I lost it and ended up breaking his nose. As I was sitting by the principal's office, awaiting to see if I was suspended or expelled and who should show up but Mr. Heroic Masters himself. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. After hearing his so called “apology” I yelled at him to leave, I’m not sure why he was even there.

When I got back to my foster house after school, I was expecting a whole lecture on fighting and anger management again but I was greeted by something far worse. I found Vlad there having tea and coffee with my foster mother. I didn’t want to know what they were talking about, I didn’t care. I was heading to my room when he asked for permission to speak to me privately. I said no of course but my foster parents forced me to go have a private conversation with him in the backyard.

He tried to break the ice but totally failed, I told him to just get right to the point. After a week since seeing him, why was he here? What does he care what I’m doing now? He asked me a question I thought I would never be asked. He asked if I wanted to come live with him, permanently. I thought he was joking at first but the way. he looked at me after he asked, he was serious. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say or how to react, like a baby I just stared at him and cried. He eventually wrapped me in a hug and I clung to him. At that moment, I’ve never felt so much like a child.

And now I’ve been living with him here in his mansion for a week. I still half expect to wake up and see that it was all a dream but…. I’m still here and Vlad has finalized all the legal paperwork as of yesterday. I belong to him… And this place is now my home.

“Taking a break?” A voice says from the entrance of the library, jolting me back into reality. Vlad stood there with two mugs in his hands and was looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah textbooks are so dull, especially history books. They’re so dry” I retort back with a smirk. He makes his way across the room and places the mug in front of me.

“Well then, how about something warm and sweet to fix that dry brain of yours” he teases back.

“Ha ha, very funny. What is it?” I ask.

“Just hot chocolate, good for dreary and rainy evenings like this” he answers as he takes a sip from his mug.

“A bit corny don’t cha think old man? ”Hot chocolate on a rainy day, so old fashioned” I say with a chuckle and take a sip of the warm chocolatey contents.

“Maybe so but I’m not the one stuck with their nose in a history book, Little Starling.”

We both laugh and continue enjoying our beverages. I look back up to the window and hear the rain as it falls harder on the window pane. I look back to Vlad and a small smile escapes, our eyes meet and I quickly look back to my mug and take another sip.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing, just enjoyin my corny drink.”

He chuckles. I try to hide another smile. It’s nice to finally have someone who I feel understands me. Maybe things will actually start to get better now.

Well…

Maybe not.

I’m not that lucky.

#mallory #danny phantom oc #Danny Phantom Spectral Shadows #Spectral Shadows #writting #vlad masters

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goddessofroyalty · 4 years

Text

Big Brother

Batfamily AOB Week Day 2: Protective

Summary:

Because Bruce is no longer with it and Dick off playing spy and damn it it’s time Jason stepped up as the next eldest to keep watch over what was left of the pack.

That is easier said than done when the two members of the pack he has to wrangle and Tim and Damian

Notes: This fic was originally on for Day 3 – Nesting. But then I wrote something that really could only be done for Nesting and this got shifted. It’s still very clearly based on nesting. This is actually 2 ideas I wanted to do and just could never figure out how. So I crammed them together and made it into one! Warnings: Jason comes to the wrong conclusion and has a pregnancy scare on behalf of Tim

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392366

“I know it’s not as good as what you two are probably used to,” Jason says as the three of them walk into one of his Gotham safe-houses, more to be a shit than anything. No matter how fancy the childhoods of the other two might have been, being Robin means sleeping in some shitty locations.

“Tt, I don’t understand why we can’t all stay in our own safe-houses,” Damian says, looking around the safe-house in distain.

“Because the Court of Owls is hunting us – safety in numbers and all that bullshit.” Because Bruce is no longer with it and Dick off playing spy and damn it it’s time Jason stepped up as the next eldest to keep watch over what was left of the pack. At least Cass would be safe in Hong Kong – Robins are at war, not Batgirls. “Right, well, shove your shit where-ever. There’s only one bedroom so I’ll turn it into a nest so we don’t all go for each other’s throats over it or whatever.”

“Do you know how to make a nest?” Tim asks because he’s only actually marginally better than the demon-pup at being kind of an asshole at times.

“Yes I know how to make a nest.” Had spent most of his childhood making nests for his mother because she wasn’t often in a state to make one of her own. “I also know how to cook and you will be eating real food while your here not energy drink, coffee and whatever pre-packaged stuff you normally survive on.”

“Whatever - where’s your set up?” Tim asks. “I need to contact him.”

Him being Dick. Which, yeah, if Robins are at war with Talons it makes sense to call the original and one of the true Pack Heads back home.

“Under the fake floor-board under the tv stand,” Jason says as he goes into the kitchen and starts digging through the cupboards. While he always preferred non-perishables in his safe-houses this one should have decent enough stock for him to be able to cook them all someone to eat.

Damian settles in on the couch scowling at them both. And Jason doesn’t take it personally – kid's gotta’ be hurting from, well, everything going on. Still unpresented, only fresh back from the dead, and lacking the pack’s true Head Alpha and his father to amnesia, and the pack’s Head Omega to a fake death and playing spy. Jason isn’t so much of an ass to kick him while he’s down.

Instead he just focuses on getting them all fed – remembering that Damian is a vegetarian now.

“Alright, Dick says he’s going to come home as soon as he’s able,” Tim says putting the tech away just as Jason finishes dinner. “Should be here by tomorrow night.”

There’s relief for Jason – Dick will be able to get everyone on the same page about this without needing to sling Damian over his shoulder and drag him from any fights to do so. But Dick arriving will likely only make the Court act more brashly to try and get him under their control. Him probably being their main target.

“We need to figure out what the Court is planning before then,” Damian says because, yeah, bringing Dick into town without any knowledge of the Court’s movements is risking a lot.

"Dinner first,” Jason growls when Tim goes to get up. Because the kid’s clearly been losing weight and Jason owes it to Alfred at least to try and make sure he has at least one decent meal.

“But-”Damian goes to protest because of course he’ll agree with Tim in this. Can't have either of them possibly respecting Jason’s authority as the current eldest Robin and pack member.

“You can both go play detective while I build the nest but first we need to eat.” He doesn’t know how the two of them aren’t starving considering just how much of their day had been spent running for their lives and herding a bunch of untrained Robin-wannabies while doing so. Because Jason is starved.

“Fine.”

The two eat. And as soon as they’re done they’re up and back to Jason’s stuff to start researching into what the Court of Owls might want.

Jason doesn’t even bother demanding they do the dishes. He certainly does not have the level of authority over them to achieve that. So Jason just does them himself and then goes to the bedroom to start to build a nest.

It’s then he realises he has no idea what the other two like in a nest.

Hell, does Damian even do nests at all?

Jason knows Tim does. He’s seen Tim’s nests but that was always when he was breaking into somewhere to threaten or challenge him for stealing Robin from Jason and, well, at the time he didn’t super categorise how Tim had the nest laid out.

Plus the nest Tim builds at Titans tower might be different to the one he’d want when the Bats. Dick always said he nested differently between the two.

Dick would know how to build a nest to keep the other two happy.

But Dick’s off being a spy and won’t be home until tomorrow. So the two of them can just make do with the kind of nest Jason is used to building – he’s the one here currently.

He walks back into the living room after doing what he thinks is a good job at building a nest to see both of them gearing up.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“We found a possible lead about what the Court of Owls is doing,” Damian says.

“The Titans need me,” Tim says.

“And what, you’re both going to go out into a city where the police are looking for us to arrest and the Court of Owls to kill?” If they both died Dick would kill him. Hell, Bruce would probably revive and kill him again once he got his memories back as well. “And I’m not going to let you go.”

“I’ll have my team to back me up,” Tim says.

“I can take care of myself,” Damian says.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” they both finish with.

How does Dick keep the two of them listening to him?

Hell, how does Bruce keep them all listening to him. Even if Jason tries his hardest not to.

“You know what, alright fine, Tim you can go meet up with your Titans but only if you meet up with them close to here, but not too close.” The last thing Jason needs is Tim’s Titans all in his safe-houses business. Although, he’ll probably have to burn this one as a safe- house anyway just because by the end of this he feels all Robins will know of its location. “And Damian you can go investigate whatever it is the two of you found, but I’m coming with you.”

“I do not need a babysitter!” Damian immediately spits because of course he can’t just behave.

“And I don’t want to be spending my night babysitting you but until this is dealt with we cannot go out alone.”

“Tt, fine,” Damian says, and okay, Jason might have the situation and the two youngest pack members under control.

----------------------------

Overall Jason considered the previous day a win. He might not be able to wrangle the two younger pack-members like Dick or Bruce can but he kept them safe and managed to get them both asleep in the bedroom-turned-nest without any blood being shed.

Hell, he even managed to pry Tim away from his Titans who were all more than happy to shack up in one of Gotham’s other safe-houses to keep an eye on their Head Omega. Something Dick probably would have been fine with and encouraged but Bruce damn near have an aneurysm if he heard about it.

And Jason had managed to prevent Damian from trying to get into a fight with the handful of cops they ran into on their way home. Because Bruce and Dick wouldn’t approve of that even if Jason kind of wanted to watch.

Yeah, overall Jason is doing pretty well at being the Head Alpha, or just Head Anything, of the pack currently.

And then he wakes to the sound of someone hurling their guts up in his bathroom. And Damian still somehow asleep in the nest.

Fuck.

“Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” Jason says after stumbling into the doorway of the bathroom and confirming that, yeah, it’s Tim who’s puking his guts up.

Jason’s never going to live this down. In charge of them for barely a week and Tim got knocked up on his watch.

“Then I’m not pregnant,” Tim says immediate, despite leaning his head against the seat of the toilet.

“Seriously Tim you had better not be lying to me, because this is the worst possible time-“

“I know. And I’m not pregnant,” Tim says standing up. “I think I just ate something that didn’t agree with me last night.”

“Hey, that better not be an insult to my cooking.” Jason might not be able to cook fancy high-class meals but he can cook food that tastes decent enough and goes down well enough.

“It wasn’t,” Tim says, “I had some dessert with Kon and Bart and Cassie before I came back.”

“Actual dessert, not innuendo dessert right?” Jason asks as he digs through the cabinet under the sink for one of the other things he always has in all his safe-houses.

“Yes, actual dessert,” Tim says rolling his eyes, “god you’re worse than Bruce I swear.”

“Hey I’m just not ready to be an uncle yet,” Jason says finding what he’s looking for and shutting the cupboard. “But just to be safe.”

“Seriously Jason?” Tim says looking at the pregnancy test Jason is handing to him. “Why do you even have them?”

“Because sometimes the people I save need them.” Jason doesn’t think he needs to elaborate on that. Nor does he want to get caught up in the debate about the kinds of people he protects verses the rest of his pack and family. “Just take the test Timmy.”

“Okay, fine,” Tim says taking the test. “You don’t have to watch me take it.”

Honestly knowing just how sneaky the omega Bat is Jason isn’t convinced he doesn’t. But whatever, it’s unlikely Tim has a hidden pouch of piss in the clothes he borrowed from Jason to sleep in.

“What’s happening?” Damian asks when Jason steps out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. His eyes are suspicious and Jason wonders if he heard any of the conversation.

“None of your business demon-pup.” No need to give the kid more ammo against Tim – especially with Dick coming back today and the brat no-doubt planning on going running to him with anything that he might be able to dob Tim in for.

Tim had covered Jason’s ass more than once against family accusations. Only fair Jason does the same for him. Middle Robins having to stick together and all that.

“Considering the magnitude of the threat we’re facing-“ Damian starts as the bathroom door swings open and Tim shoves the pregnancy test into Jason’s hand.

“Here – I was right,” Tim says, not stopping until he’s curled up in the nest. And the pregnancy test he handed Jason shows negative.

Which – oh thank god. Jason doesn’t have to deal with the judgemental looks on either Bruce or Dick’s face on how he should have somehow kept Tim away from possible impregnating alphas despite the fact that every time anyone in the family does try and tell Tim what to do he tends to immediately run into the arms of said possible impregnating alphas. Hell, tends to go for the even worse options than his usual ones.

“What is it?” Damian asks, getting up to come over to investigate what might be some blackmail he can use against his brother.

“It’s nothing,” Jason says, shoving the test in his pyjama pants pockets before grabbing Damian and, gently, lobbing him back into the nest. “I’m gonna’ start making breakfast so neither of you leave until we eat food. Then we can think about how we’re gonna’ work meeting up with Dick despite the city going on an all-out Robin hunt.”

And hopefully Jason can not feel so damn responsible for the other two. Dump it on Dick again and go back to being the black-sheep of the pack.

Hopefully before Jason gets more grey hair from them.

#DC Comics #Batfamily #DC omegaverse #Batfamilyaobweek #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Pregnancy scare #(but not really)#I accidently a ficlet

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ghostmacaron · 5 years

Text

gonna vent about disability shit for a bit but regarding my last rb:

I’ve already experienced a smaller scale version of this, last year. during term times, I live with housemates, but outside of term time I live entirely on my own.

my mobility was shit for a few months - like, even walking around the house was a struggle some days (I had suffered a few major dislocations, and I’m mostly ‘alright’ now, but I’ll always be disabled and it could always happen again), and it really did mess me up. the day things started closing or being cancelled in the uk I had panic attack after panic attack because I couldn’t stand to live through that isolation again. still, I think I only have one friend who actually Gets It, most people I know think I’m super overreacting.

since that time last year, my cupboards have always been stocked with non-perishable, easy-to-prepare foods. I start panicking when I only have a week’s worth of food left. a fridge that is 1/3 stocked registers in my head as empty.

I can’t cope without my friends, and I hate being isolated, so unless I’m physically with someone, I all too frequently desperately jump between apps to try and reach out to anyone I know, gain a brief and fleeting connection. I lost so much time and friendship with my friends when I had no mobility and it messed me up to a point where I cannot believe the majority of my friends even still like me when they’re not actively making the effort to reach out or reply.

anyway. all of this is a long-winded way of saying, I’ve been through something like this before. this is going to hurt us. keep reaching out to people, friends, family, whoever and make emotional connections. try as often as you can to create something. and, when this is over, keep reaching out to people, hug someone you love, try not to be fixate on the amount of food you have left in your fridge. idk what point I’m trying to make, I just needed to vent, really, but try as often as you can, when this is all over, to be yourself again. but don’t hate yourself if you change a little, because we probably all will.

#this isn't too bad but there's a read more bc it's kinda long and no one wants to read my ramble lmao #disability mention #injury #injury mention #coronavirus #ask to tag #frog.txt

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paladin-andric · 6 years

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Blackheart, Chapter 33: Heart of Darkness

(This is the final chapter, but not the complete end. Expect something soon...)

Alexander shook his head, voice quivering. “No...no, not you…”

The dragon’s twisted grin only widened. “Do you feel fear? Regret? Sorrow? Do not dwell on it. What you have experienced pales in comparison to what you will be feeling shortly.”

“Tourthun...Tourthun, it’s us. We can purify you, we can bring things back to the way they were. You just have to fight it, you only-”

The knight’s words were silenced by Tourthun reaching forward and slamming his claws down into him. Screams rang out from the others, but…

Alexander could hear the screams?

He had been crushed by a dragon. He should have died instantly.

Only...he didn’t.

“Words will not sway me. ‘Tourthun’ is dead. In his place, is your new God.”

He lifted his claws from the ground...and found Alexander, who should currently be a pile of mush, climbing back to his feet.

“What?!” Everyone, even Tourthun, cried it at the staggering knight.

Alexander wasn’t unharmed. It had hurt, and he felt like a horse had just kicked him in the chest...but he was alive. As he wondered why, it came to him.

The stone.

The “special ward” that woman mentioned. It had protected him.

“It’s gonna take more than that,” Alexander spoke calmly, sword raised. The dragon quickly recovered, breaking into a grin once more.

“Whatever you did to survive that was a mistake...you will wish you had died soon enough.”

“We’re shattering the anchor. Tourthun, get a hold of yourself!”

“A hold? A HOLD?!” the dragon broke into laughter. “Ho, you simple-minded fools...you know not the forces you meddle with. You see, I was too resilient to break through the normal process. That dullard who promised to return failed. My ‘love’ was too strong for him to warp, apparently.”

The dragon looked gleeful as he recounted what the group had missed after fleeing the cave. “They needed me broken, and they needed it quickly. Thus, they did something even they feared...they unsealed the heart of a long dead god, and forced it into me. They thought the dead god would possess my body...what fools! Now, I have infinite power, and the understanding of the darkness! I am God, now!”

“Tourthun-”

“SILENCE, WORM! You continue to exist because I wish it so. Not for any love...but because I wish to see you suffer. I wish to see you ALL suffer!”

“T-Tourthun?” Senci asked, quivering, “I don’t want to hurt you...please stop...we can help you…”

The dragon stepped forward, still grinning. His head craned down as he loomed over them, his visage striking fear into their hearts.

“I do not want your help. I want your misery. And what better way to gain it, than to show you just how hopeless you truly are?”

Leaning back, the demon-dragon’s forelegs rose as a dark force filled the room. What felt like...suction was filling the air, the group quickly covering their faces as wind began to whip violently around them.

It felt like Tourthun was sucking in the very air they were breathing...but after a few moments, it became clear that was a far cry from what was truly happening.

Alexander watched in amazement as several chunks of the room appeared to...tear away. They weren’t being torn up and sucked in by Tourthun, they simply...ceased to be, a black nothingness left behind by them.

This persisted, more and more of the room fading away, until, in a flash...there was nothing.

The knight looked around to see what was there, and...the others and Tourthun remained. That was all. The room, the stone, the anchor, the hallway, everything...it was all gone.

They were in a black void of nothingness. There wasn’t even a floor, yet they stood somehow.

“What...what’s happening?” Senci asked.

“I have erased the world,” Tourthun answered simply, “All is gone.”

“W-what?!”

“I told you...I am God. Reality begins and ends on my whim. All existence besides us has been undone.”

Lexius looked around at the void. “But, the others...the city...everything we’ve worked towards…”

“All gone,” the dragon announced, sounding like a parent telling their child something was out of stock.

“No...everyone else...everyone who ever lived...you can’t have…”

“I can, and I have. Now…” Tourthun leaned down and grinned at the four warriors remaining. “...what to do with you?”

Senci growled, sword pressed against his chest. “M-master Andric...Vok...you...you’ll pay for this!”

The warrior bellowed and charged forward, sword raised as he rushed to avenge all life.

“Oh, how cute. Farewell.”

A bright light blinded the group, and as Alexander opened his eyes…

Senci was nowhere to be seen.

“Wh-where...what have you done?!” the knight demanded angrily, the dragon still grinning like mad.

“He has joined his precious friends in non-existence. He never lived, as no one has. All that is and will ever be are you and I.”

Alexander stumbled backwards, reeling. This was worse than death. Senci, Razorwing, all of them, everyone who had ever been...all of them were gone, having never even been born. The world itself was never made. It was only them, and the void.

Leianna moved forward.

“Wait, don’t!”

The cleric ignored Alexander’s words. She marched resolutely, mace in hand. She didn’t charge like Senci had. It seemed she understood that there was no hope, and yet she faced their foe down anyway.

“Yes! Come, come to your demise!”

“Leianna, stop! We’ll...we’ll think of something!”

The cleric continued her march, looking at the dragon with a cold and fearless expression. She finally came to a stop, standing directly in front of the grinning dragon.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked, grasping onto her mace with both hands.

“Waiting? I am waiting for you to accept your end!”

She cocked a grin. “I’m not accepting anything. Come and get me.”

The dragon shifted, standing up straight. “Very well...perish in darkness!”

Tourthun rose a leg and, as he did so, Leianna turned to look at Alexander. She smiled at him, one last time, before Tourthun was upon her.

The knight averted his eyes as his claws crushed her. Why...why? What was the point of any of this?

As he lifted his claws, there remained not a body, not gore, but...ash. He held them up and blew across them, the mist scattering to the winds, vanishing into nothingness.

“Erased,” he said, gleeful malice in his voice, “Now...it seems you two are the last beings in existence besides me.”

Alexander shook his head. “Why…? I thought...you served the demons.”

Tourthun laughed. “Me, serving?! You stupid fool. I am a God. Why would I kneel to those fools? They merely unleashed me, they hold no sway over me any longer. Yes, they too have ceased to be. There is nothing but you, I and the endless abyss...the place where you will learn true fear.”

He stepped towards them, the darkness within him sending shockwaves through them. “Now begins an eternity of suffering henceforth unknown to you. Your entire being, for all of eternity, will know only pain.”

“Alexander.”

It was a low whisper, from Lexius. The knight turned to face the priest.

“You...you have to distract him.”

For the first time since his journey started, Alexander didn’t see what resisting would accomplish.

“Why? What’s the point?”

“I think…” Lexius swallowed hard. “I think I know a way to make him stop.”

He was familiar with purifying corruption...maybe he really was onto something?

“I’ve never attempted such an act. Alexander, I can’t help you, but...if you buy me enough time...we just might make him understand.”

That was all he needed. Something, anything to hold onto, to believe in.

A reason to fight.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good luck, Alexander.”

Tourthun was grinning. “Oooh, a plan? Yes, struggle helplessly. See your final hopes dashed, and fully submit to despair!”

Alexander moved towards the dragon, hunched over and filled with dread. “Why are you doing this? What’s the purpose of doing any of this? You can make anything happen...and you erase all reality? Why?”

The dark dragon chuckled at the knight, twisted malice in his voice. “The world wronged me. Now, I shall cast it away, and return its hatred tenfold. You will understand the extent of the world’s cruelty, and crumble before me.”

The knight shook his head. “Tourthun...that’s outrageous. You feel bad about what happened to you, about all you’ve lost? We’ve all lost people. That’s part of life.”

“I tire of your words,” the dragon said, disinterested.

“What about your father?!” he cried, “What would he think of this?! You think this is what he wanted?! He’d be ashamed of you!”

A twinge of pain, of fury and hatred. Alexander could see it in the dragon’s visage, as alien as it was. The demon reeled back and slammed his leg into Alexander, sending the knight flying.

He slammed into the...what acted like ground, in a heap. Once again pain wracked his body, but the sorcerer’s gift saved his life. He rose as the dragon snarled at him from far away.

“You know NOTHING of pain!” Tourthun cried, “But I will teach you...soon, you will know…”

Off to the side, Lexius was hunched over in prayer, conducting what appeared to be some grand spell.

He had to keep going. He had to stand against Tourthun, no matter what happened. He’d seen it, in the dragon’s face. He’d heard it, in his words.

There was an inkling of the old him. Of something the darkness hadn’t destroyed yet. And if there was a sliver, no matter how small...it could be pulled back to the surface.

“TOURTHUN!” the knight screamed, pointing his blade at the beast.

“Alexander…” the demon grinned.

He took a deep breath.

“I am just a man. I doubt I will survive this. Even so…I am not afraid. My dear friend…the corruption hasn’t erased you yet. I can hear the hesitation in your voice. The regret in your eyes. Within your demonic form I hear the cry of the pure-hearted dragon I once knew. Tourthun...I will save you if it kills me!”

Tourthun shifted his stance, his grin becoming a furious snarl. “Believe me...it shall.”

The dragon surged forward, Alexander throwing himself at the beast as well. He was knocked over as it barreled into him, but he quickly recovered. As Tourthun stared down at him, Alexander raised his sword, and swung down on one of the beast’s legs with all his might.

The blade made contact, and bounced off of the dark dragon’s scales harmlessly. It laughed, and laughed and laughed. The monster sent Alexander flying once more with a swipe of its tail.

“Do you see yet, fool?! I am immortal, invulnerable! I cannot be harmed, I can erase and rewrite reality with a mere thought! I am GOD!”

Clambering to his feet again, Alexander huffed and raised his sword at the dragon. “You...you can still be saved...”

“You have trouble listening.”

“There’s still time,” the knight spoke breathlessly, “Time to make things right. Time to return things to the way they were.”

The dragon’s wicked grin flashed once more. “You cannot save that which enjoys damnation.”

The beast crept forward, horrid visage still plastered on its face. “I ended the lives of your friends, of everyone you ever cared for. I plunged the world into an abyss so dark, the plans of the demons seem wondrous by comparison. Fool...can you see yet that I am your master, your tormentor?! Your pitiful words hold no power.”

The knight hesitated. He was furious. He was saddened. The beast had ended all life, all existence. All those he worked so hard to help, who he cared about and who cared for him in return...they were gone. Geralthin was gone. The sky was gone. All of the earth was gone. All because of him.

But that was what he wanted. Tourthun wanted him to give up. He wanted the man to hate him, to loathe and despise him.

Thinking back to that brief moment of hesitation on Tourthun’s part...it seemed like he was trying to keep him at a safe distance emotionally...so that he couldn’t compromise the dragon’s fury. As if the beast himself knew some part of him was still fighting whatever was controlling his actions.

“I don’t hate you,” Alexander said, “You know that. I just want to help you, Tourthun. I know how difficult it was for you. I know it seemed like the whole world was against you...but don’t you remember everything that happened after we met? The people who dropped everything to help you? The ones who cared enough about you to encourage you and ensure you were alright?”

“You left me to the darkness!” Tourthun snarled, “Do not speak of caring!”

“You begged us to leave! You forbade Senci from staying with you!”

“That would not have stopped you if you truly cared…” The dragon caught himself, shaking and snarling. “You...you DARE attempt to manipulate ME, your God and master?!”

With a guttural roar, Tourthun lunged forward, crushing Alexander again. Yet another time, the ward saved him, but he was deeply pained, his chest aching.

As he tried to get up however, the dragon pinned him back down with a claw. “Not this time. Now, you will know pain.”

The dragon, for the first time since they had met, incanted a spell. He showed no knowledge of magic before, so this must have been something from the forgotten god…

Alexander felt a blinding, searing, horrific pain fill the core of his very being. For only a brief moment, he felt a pain so unbearable that he couldn’t think, or see, or feel anything but the pain.

After the pain left him, it took a moment for his mind and body to catch up with reality, the knight screaming in the meanwhile.

As he came back to reality, he turned his head to look at the predatory demon grinning down at him.

“Just a split moment. Only a brief, passing moment. Imagine that pain. Imagine it going on...forever. That is your existence under me. That is what you will feel until you a broken, mindless thing.”

Alexander clawed his way back to his feet, glaring at the dragon. “I won’t...give up…”

The beast’s grin...the monster’s horrid grin...it flashed a gleeful, sadistic grin.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

With blinding speed, the dragon snatched him up, rose him up, and slammed him into the abyss with murderous force.

It hurt. Oh, God did it hurt. Still, the knight knew it wasn’t over, that he could-

“No.”

The moment he moved to get up, the dragon grabbed him and flung him, the knight flying and crashing back down into the darkness, rolling a bit before coming to a stop.

He barely had time to recover from the shock when a massive tail slammed down into him, hurting him further.

How long could the ward protect him? Sure, the damage slipping past it was but a fraction of what was truly inflicted, but how long until it gave out under the demon’s relentless assault?

“Oh, are you hurt? That is a shame. I have barely even begun.”

This process repeated itself, Alexander getting tossed and slammed effortlessly by the dragon. Each time he crashed back down, his pain worsened. His chest and stomach were on fire. His limbs were weak. His head spun.

I just...have to hang on...a little longer…

The dragon ground him into the darkness, sliced at him, bit down, and threw him about like a ragdoll. By the end of it, he could barely even move.

He was thrown, collapsing near the priest. He cried in pain, writhing in the abyss, before screaming out for help.

“Argh...LEXIUS!”

The priest was still performing whatever ritual it was that he planned. He look half-dead, eyes sunken and pale and sweating, just like when he had healed Tourthun.

Alexander, somehow, went on. He shakily climbed back to his feet, weaving and wobbling as he threatened to tip over.

“Impressive,” the dragon spoke deeply, “But pointless. Here it comes, Alexander...do not worry. If you die, I can bring you back. This suffering will persist for all eternity.”

The knight felt fear creep through his heart as the dragon reeled back...and spat his fire at him.

The flames were all wrong. They were discolored, green and evil-looking. The pillar of fire flew forward, and soon enough, Alexander was enveloped.

The fire boiled and burned, charring him and coating him in searing pain. He could feel his skin bubbling and nerves dying as he was covered in a sea of fire.

At last, it ended. The flames dissipated, and Alexander collapsed.

He felt the pain of a thousand pyres overwhelming him. He could feel his flesh melting away. In these moments, there was nothing but torment.

And yet…

The dragon’s laughter ceased as the knight’s arm rose...and pressed against the darkness beneath him. His other did the same, and soon, he was pushing, rising up into a kneeling position.

The knight’s armor was in ruin. Entire sections had melted. The entire thing was blackened. The boots were warped and no longer fit him properly. His helmet was a mangled mess, with a twisted visor, and one side almost entirely gone, leaving the burns on his face exposed for what was left of the world to see.

“What?!”

Alexander gasped, his voice low and raspy. “Not...yet…”

The knight was kneeling, panting and shivering as he struggled to hold on. It took all he had not to collapse back into the darkness and let it swallow him forever.

He moved his leg. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. Each movement brought terrible pain, and a sharp desire to stop...but he kept going.

His leg rose up and he planted his foot down, moving up and propping himself up on his knee. He breathed heavily, this shift from a kneel to a crouch feeling like a superhuman effort.

He willed himself on, using his leg muscles to move his quivering body upwards, until at least, he was at his feet again.

The dragon growled, fury in what remained of his eyes. “You WORM! You prove NOTHING! DIE!”

Another blast of flames. Alexander had the forethought to cover his face with his arms, though the effectiveness of this while being entirely engulfed in fire was dubious at best.

The flames swallowed him again, but this time, it hurt less. It was still burning him, he could feel that much, but...something was different.

There was a warm glow radiating from his hip. Not the searing heat all around him, but a pleasant warmness, a sense of safety and comfort.

He realized that was where the stone was.

It was getting warmer as the flames persisted, and after they died it, the heat emanating from it didn’t go away.

Alexander remained standing, leaving an even more shocked demon than before.

“What...what trick is this?!”

The knight took a slow, labored step forward. Then another. Soon, his body waved from side to side, his feet shuffling forward at a slow, steady pace. He looked like a walking corpse.

“Tourthun…not yet...”

The shock on the dragon’s face was barely registered by the knight. All he could think of was holding on, just a little longer, just to keep going no matter what.

The demonic dragon tensed up, growling. “You...will perish!”

Another blast of flames from the dragon’s maw, shorter in duration this time. He continued marching. Another. He kept going. Yet another. Still, he persisted.

The knight grimly marched on as the furious dragon continued to bathe him in fire. Each time, the stone got warmer and warmer, becoming scaldingly hot and being actively painful to keep on him.

Was it the ward struggling to keep up? Was it the magic it was absorbing threatening to overwhelm the enchantment? Was the knight’s only source of life about to give out?

Alexander felt fear, regret, sorrow and pain...but he marched on. Always, he marched on.

Step after step, pain all-encompassing, terror of the unknown, his last effort fading away into an eternity of unending torment…

A loud, thundering explosion brought all of his thoughts to a halt. Tourthun too was stopped in his tracks by the noise. Alexander struggled, but he did manage to turn around to face the source of the noise, his legs still wobbling unsteadily.

Lexius was covered in a white mist of divine energy, which promptly poured out all around him before dissipating into the darkness. This left only the priest with his hands in the air, head raised to the sky, motionless.

“It...is done. He...has arrived.”

With those words, Lexius collapsed in a heap, unconscious or dead. Alexander couldn’t tell which.

There was a pause. There was no more noise. There was no motion, no magic. Nothing happened.

Tourthun broke into uproarious laughter, cruelly spiting the knight with harsh words.

“He has failed! YOU have failed! Nothing has come of your pathetic plan! All hope is LOST! See now, and wallow in despair!”

For a moment, Alexander believed him. He was right. They failed. Nothing could stop him now. The new master of the universe would rewrite existence as he saw fit for all of eternity.

“Nothing has failed. I am here.”

The knight’s eyes widened as a new voice entered the area. It was a voice he had never heard before. It was a voice as soft a silk, as ethereal as a chorus of angels. It was a voice of love, compassion and understanding.

Alexander and the demon both turned to the source of the new voice, and standing before them...was yet another dragon.

This one, however, was not a true dragon...at least, not truly with them. It was semi-transparent, made of wavy, blue lights. His visage bore a soft, kindly smile, and he looked at them expectantly.

“W-what…?” the knight stared at the spirit in confusion. What was this? What had Lexius done?

“Tourthun…” it spoke, sounding almost ready to cry.

The corrupted dragon stood in shock, until he too finally spoke. His voice was different now. It was not the dark and insidious voice of a mad tyrant.

It was the voice of a frightened child.

“F...Father…?”

“My son...how I have missed you so.”

It all came crashing onto Alexander in a tidal wave. A profound understanding of Lexius’ plan. THIS is what he had put into motion. To summon the ghost of the one who meant the most of him, to shake him out of his madness…

“Tourthun...stop this. You must stop this. Come back to me, Tourthun. I know you still have it within you to regain yourself.”

The demonic dragon shook, head shaking. “No...NO! You...I will…!”

He fired a jet of his unholy flames onto his own father. Alexander watched in disbelief, his surprise only growing as the flames went out to show the other dragon, unharmed.

“My body has long since died, Tourthun. You know that better than anyone.”

Tourthun cringed, backing away from the soul of his father. “I...leave me...I am a god...I...I am…”

“You are my son.”

Those words seemed to shake the dragon to his very core. He froze, wide-eyed.

“Remember...you must remember. Remember everything I have ever taught you. Remember the love you have for this world, and its people. Remember all you have worked towards in your pursuit to make the world a better place. The darkness cannot swallow you whole. You are too strong for it.”

Tourthun’s breathing became funny. He stood in a strange pose that resembled a cornered animal. Even with the darkness warping his visage, Alexander could see the shame and heartache in his eyes.

“F-father…”

“I have always believed in you, Tourthun. I will never stop. Even as far as you’ve fallen, I know you will rise again. Your love cannot be contained by such foul entities. You are my son, and I love you.”

“Father…” his voice was comparable to the squeak of a mouse. “I...I…”

This quivering and shaking intensified, until at least, the dragon began to cry.

“...I am so sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“But I have...I tarnished everything. I have destroyed the world. I have brought untold suffering to my friends, to everyone who has ever cared for me! How...how could I? How could I allow this? How could I ever make amends for this?”

“Fight it!” his father pleaded. The dragon’s teeth were grinding against one another, the beast in clear distress.

“I-it hurts...I...I do not know if I can. Father, help me…”

The spirit bowed his head. “I am not truly here, Tourthun. The good priest could only allow my soul to travel here for a short time. I can offer nothing but my wisdom. There is, however, one still here to help…”

The knight could feel the eyes on him, having lowered his head as he struggled to stay upright. He looked up and saw both of their gazes fixed on him.

“Alexander…?” Tourthun asked fearfully.

“Tourthun…”

“I...I hurt you. I tried to end your life. I brought suffering to one of the few good people I knew. I...I understand if you cannot forgive me.”

“It wasn’t you,” Alexander muttered.

“I...could you...how could you help?”

“That is on you,” the spirit answered, “He does not hold the answer himself.”

“But...I can feel it again. Father, what do I do?”

“You said you were a god, correct? Tourthun...take that power, and use it for good. You know I mean, do you not?”

The dragon slowly nodded, comprehension dawning on him. “I...I do. I understand.”

“Good. That is good.” the soul closed his eyes, looking pained. “Tourthun...my time here comes to an end. I can feel it. The energy used to bind me here is coming undone. I will return to the heavens in a moment.”

“F-father, please…” Tourthun’s face was matted with tears. “Please...do not leave me.”

“I have no choice in the matter,” Tamis admitted, “Just as I had no choice the first time. Tourthun...before I leave, I want you to know that I am always with you. I have been watching over you, ever since I left this world. I tried so hard to reach you, to let you know I was there, and everything was okay. I believe I got through once. Tourthun, do you remember that dream, when you were a child…?”

Tourthun’s jaw dropped before he recalled the words spoken from his father. “I may be gone from this world, but I will always be above, watching you...”

“Be good for me...you have made me so proud already,” his father finished.

The pair stared at one another in silence, their faces saying all that needed to be said. The father and son stared into each other’s eyes for some time, a spark, an inseparable connection clearly there.

“I can feel it...I must leave, now…”

Tourthun shook. “I...I do not want to be alone...”

“You have your friends, still. Tourthun...do not give up hope yet. I know you can fix this. You WILL fix this. Tell me you will.”

Tourthun nodded hurriedly. “I...I will. I promise I will.”

“Good...that is good.” Tamis looked up to the other dragon with a smile. “Mother is with me too, you know. She has been watching as well. She misses you dearly, and is so very proud of who you are.”

“F-father...I miss her, too…”

“She knows that...but I will tell her. Tourthun...the end is here. I will continue watching from above. My son...make me proud.”

With that, the soul of Tamis began to waver, growing harder and harder to see.

“Father...father!”

“I love you.”

Those were the final words the voice spoke, until what was once Tamis was gone again, rejoining paradise.

Tourthun sat there, shaking, as Alexander stood in stock for quite some time. Eventually, the dragon turned and looked at the knight. Though he was still corrupted and unholy, his face had changed. What was once furious hatred and malicious glee was now the visage of a heartbroken creature.

“Alexander...I can never fully be forgiven for what I have done to you, and all the others…”

“I TOLD you it wasn’t you,” Alexander spoke sternly. “Although...I can think of something that could be done.”

Tourthun nodded. “What father said...this is my only chance at redemption. Alexander...abusing my powers, undoing the entire universe...I exhausted my energy. I am nearly spent. I could wait, only...the voices of darkness, even now, still scream at me. I...I cannot hold onto this clarity forever. Soon enough, I will go back to the horrible monster I once was…”

He looked at the knight, eyes narrowing. “Alexander...you would do anything to save the world, would you not? You would not hesitate to give even your very life if it meant it all came back...correct?”

“Of course.” There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. Tourthun nodded.

“Good, good...so would I. Alexander...I am going to attempt something great…but I am weak, now. I need your help.”

“Yes...anything…” the knight stumbled forward, careful not to trip. Still the pain engulfed him, and he feared that if he fell, he’d never get up.

“Alexander...I am going to use the last of my strength to rebuild the world...and it will not be enough. Lend me your strength, Knight Alexander, hero and friend, so that we may rebuild this world, together.”

“Yes…”

As the knight staggered over to the dragon, the beast moved his leg, offering the knight something to hold onto while their ritual went underway.

“There is a good chance one of us will not survive this. Perhaps even neither of us will make it.”

“I don’t care,” the knight answered, reaching out to the dragon.

“Sir Alexander. If I do not make it, if you return to the world and I am not there...remember me as I once was, not as what I have become.”

“I told you...the world will know of Tourthun, savior of Palethorn.”

The dragon smiled. “My friend...good luck. Long may life blossom in this great land.”

As the dragon stopped talking, something else happened. Alexander felt that...sensation, from before. From when Tourthun undid the world. That strange pulling sensation.

This time however, it was not the world around them that he felt being pulled...but his very being.

It felt like something was trying to tear the soul out of his body as the ritual began, immense pain and exhaustion flooding his body.

As the knight struggled to hold on, he looked and saw Tourthun appearing to be in pain as well.

The spell he was using was drawing their very essence for its power, using them as fuel to rebuild the world.

Alexander shook, and his teeth chattered. It was like his body was being stolen from him, his spirit being burned away and leaving him a hollow husk.

“Alexander...look.”

The knight looked up, trying to see what the dragon was seeing.

All around them, bits of the darkness were...fading away. While the abyss was still there, reality was bleeding back into existence. There were bits of green on the ground, and all around them the color of stone walls came into being.

“We are doing it...we are truly doing it, Alexander…”

Despite the horrific pain, the knight forced himself on. Despite everything he had suffered, he kept going.

This was the world, the future of all life. It wasn’t up to him whether he was allowed to give up or not.

“Hah...I grow weak…” Tourthun muttered, both of them being eaten up by the magic.

“Not...yet…” Alexander whispered, body wobbling.

He closed his eyes as more and more of the world returned from the brink, the knight feeling debilitating agony across every inch of his body.

Internally, his mind was spent. His will was stretched far past what he thought were his limits. He couldn’t think straight anymore, or do anything but simply be.

“Alexander...it is here...the world is here…”

The knight finally gave out, the last of him spent utterly. Before he could look to see if the dragon was speaking truth, he crashed to the ground, his mind already swallowed by the darkness.

…

Darkness.

It was all he knew.

It an endless void, his mind raced.

He couldn’t recall what had happened, or why.

How had he gotten here? Why was he in this place?

“Alexander…”

Somewhere, in the distance, a voice called out to him.

What was it? Who was there?

“Alexander…”

Again, he strained. Someplace, he could feel something. In another world, events were unfolding before him.

“Alexander!”

The knight snapped back to life, eyes opening. He gasped as air filled his lungs, the feeling of being alive a sweet nectar that egged him on.

He looked up to see the face of Leianna. She looked surprised, but then smiled.

“Ah...you’re alright.”

As she backed off, the knight instinctively tried to sit up. As he did so, he felt sharp pains all over him, eliciting a deep intake of breath from him.

“Easy, easy! You were half-dead when I got started…”

Forcing himself into a sitting position, he rubbed at his head, feeling warped and melted steel underneath his hands. “What...happened?”

“You did it, Alexander.”

Another voice. The knight turned to see a familiar face. A draconic visage, large and glittering a deep, ruby red.

“Tourthun!”

“The very same.”

Alexander shook his head. “But...how did you…?”

“Andric and Leianna. They purged me of the influence. I am...back again. It is all thanks to you and Lexius, my dear friend.”

The knight looked over to the others. All around him, his companions stood watching him with concern. Above them, Gira, Basilrin and Aurelio all perched over rooftops, watching the proceedings with vested interest.

He pointed at Razorwing. “What about...what happened to you? When you got caught behind…”

The bird crossed his arm-wings. “It’s the strangest thing. Crux and I were fighting the demons to cover your assault, when all of a sudden…”

“There was a bright light,” Crux answered.

Razorwing finished the statement. “...and when we came to, we were here, and everything was alright.”

The knight turned to look around him. They were in the square, the portal now a pile of rubble. The demons were gone, and there were no corrupted in sight. The army was all around them, and Alexander could see the rest of his friends in the crowd.

Wurie was patting a survivor on the back. Charles was watching Alexander with a wide smile on his muzzle. Senci was clutching onto Andric tightly, hugging him as if it was the last time he’d ever see him. The paladin was returning the hug.

All around them, the army and citizens smiled and celebrated, congratulating one another. The people were happy, and it seemed no one was unaccounted for.

Whatever they did, it worked. The demons were destroyed. The Blackheart was ruined. They had succeeded. It was all over.

The knight moved to stand up, but the intense pain returned, causing him to grunt.

“Hey, take it easy, dope!” Leianna shouted, “You’re lucky you’re even alive!”

“What doesn’t kill you…” he said with a shallow laugh.

“Argh! You need to relax! You nearly...your face…”

Alexander paused. He shook his hand free of his near-ruined gauntlet, letting his hand be exposed to the world. He pressed it against the opening in his helmet, and sure enough...he felt it. The waves and patterns now emblazoned on him. The permanent scars of horrid face-burns.

“Well...there goes my good looks.” he laughed again, shaking his head.

“Alexander...you still, I mean…”

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, cutting the cleric off, “...I’m sure it’ll grow on me.”

She offered no more words as he forced himself to his feet, his mangled armor and burned body mere inklings in the back of his mind. He was alive, as were the rest of humanity, and that was all that mattered.

As he climbed to his feet, he could hear something in the distance.

Church bells.

Someone had thought of the idea, apparently to celebrate their victory. While a token gesture, what happened next made it far more impactful.

It seemed to become brighter all of a sudden, and as Alexander looked up to find the source of light, he was stricken with wonder.

The fog above them, wrapping the city in an eternal darkness...was fading away. The wisps of fog thinned out more and more, until finally, as a hole in the dome of darkness formed...Alexander could see it.

The sun.

The fog died away, revealing a bright blue sky, the shining sun covering the city in a wondrous, warm light, all while the church bells rang.

Alexander could feel tears run down his face. He’d done it. They’d finally all done it. The nightmare was over. Dawn had come, and the world was saved.

All stared in wonder at the glorious sight as everyone came together, man and beast, to watch the sun burn away the darkness.

In that moment, all life was one. All shared in their struggle, their triumph. It was over.

It was finally all over.

“I can’t believe it…”

Alexander heard the voice of the prince, breathless. He stumbled over, and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“Alexander…”

The burned man smiled. “It’s time to bring these people home, William.”

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novadreii · 6 years

Text

a diatribe about the emotional unpacking i’ve been doing this summer, specifically regarding my anxiety, how it’s affected me, and how i’m trying to drop kick it in the face.

i will be honest and say that this weekend i’ve been sitting with some mild anxiety. mild, but still there, enough to set off alarms. just this...undercurrent of fear about the future. i go back to school in exactly 1 month, and getting my degree means more to me than arguably anything right now. some of you have been watching me bitch about this for years, but i’m stubborn as fuck and refuse to let it go. it’s not about the status, or the diploma. it’s a struggle of significance for me; since 2012 i’ve wrestled on and off with my mental health and this made staying in school consistently impossible. so in 2015 i made the decision to not go back until i was properly ready. a lot has happened since then, but to make a long story short, i’ll never be more ready than i am now. finishing this means everything to me; it means digging my heels in, working hard, and earning something for myself. something that, for a long time, i really lost hope that i was even capable of achieving.

but as always, doubt always starts to creep once the deadline approaches: what if i fail again, what if i can’t handle it, what if i drop out and have to work boring low-level jobs my whole life, what if i panic, what if i can’t do it?

every piece of text on the subject that i’ve ever read, every meaningful message from all my favorite books/series, has pointed me towards this one solution for when i’m paralyzed with fear: just feel it, sit with it, don’t run from or avoid it. and once you’ve done that, go through your fear and do the thing you’re afraid of anyway. that’s called bravery, and if you repeat this process enough times it will give you the confidence to keep doing it in the face of anything you fear. how often have we heard that being brave is not synonymous with being fearless? fearless is a lofty concept, an ideal, but honey, it’s just not realistic. everybody has fears. the most incredible people throughout history had their own fears; what sets them apart is how they dealt with them.

my methods for avoiding pain/fear these days are 1) weed 2) tv/video games in excess and 3) avoiding my responsibilities/doing anything that would progress my life. obviously this will not work out for me, not in a long-term sense anyway.

so recently i’ve just....stopped using coping methods when i’m getting into my fear. i do anything other than my usual destructive habits. i force myself to clean in a frenzy, i listen to loud music on my headphones, i go for a walk around the block, i read a book, i’ve even forced myself to do boring paperwork that i was avoiding. i make a challenge out of forcing myself to do the exact opposite of what i really want to do in that moment.

and THAT’S where the magic happened for me. once i confront Fear and do it over and over and over again, it begins to lessen. i’ve done this before, and i survived. it wasn’t that bad. it was worth the effort it took to just deal with it.

the truth is that everything in life is a trade-off. you can’t get anything you want without sacrificing something of equal value whether it’s money, time, energy, or any other resource. and on the flip side of that coin, you can’t just avoid your life and desires, not without paying for it emotionally. so logically speaking, if both paths are equally as difficult, if they take roughly the same amount (but a different TYPE) of effort, which one will i choose?

it’s become obvious to me now, whereas it wasn’t before, that i should choose the path with the end result that is most worth it for me. depressed bastard who never did anything with her life? or...who knows? someone who actually tried and maybe got SOME of what she wanted? so now that the two choices are so clear, i’m beginning to feel drive, determination, and ambition again. goddamn, i was born with those traits burned into my personality and identity; losing them temporarily during the last few years fucking hurt, i really did lose a part of myself. but they were just dormant, inactive, because i can feel them faintly taking root again. and it feels friggin amazing.

so nowadays i’m practicing a new skill: willpower. i believe it is absolutely a skill that anyone can cultivate and work on. i realized that i can force myself to do shit i know i should be doing instead of running from my problems. knowing that i will feel so much better if i just address and overcome what is scaring me is enough to motivate me. i can do this without resistance, without wanting to go hide in my bad habits. my awareness (my true self, separate from ego), knows the right answers, the correct path. i can physically do what i know needs to be done even if my mind is screaming at me to self-destruct instead; i have that power, because i am not my mind. none of us are; we are the awareness behind the mind, so to speak. if this sounds too new-age for you, i’m sorry. but i’ve been reading books on the topic for years without understanding completely. it made about 75% sense to me up until now, and i found the missing piece. mindfulness, the Self, the Ego...it’s all interconnected, and i used to think it was more religious BS that I didn’t care for. but it really isn’t. it’s a logical approach to heal yourself emotionally, and it starts with recognizing that your internal dialogue, your thoughts, and even your emotions, do not make up who you are, so you don’t have to be a slave to them. i wish i could articulate this better, but i barely understood it myself when i first started researching the topic. but something inside me knew that the answer i’d been looking for was somewhere in this train of thought, so i’ve kept with it (if you’re interested, the one book I would recommend is the power of now by eckhart tolle. i know, i know. but it really is the most easily digestible medium for this subject. just know you will have to engage with it and put in the work to fully understand).

so anyway, that’s what i did this weekend. no weed, no mindless distractions, no emotional eating, despite the low burning of fear about school in the back of my mind. i cleaned the shit out of the kitchen and my room instead, which was distracting and physically tiring. then because i still felt restless, i went for a jog. now i’m showered and tired, about to watch a movie that i feel i actually earned. i think Fear produces a nervous energy that i can dispel with any kind of physical activity, which takes the edge off and makes it bearable.

and lo and behold, by not being destructive at the first sign of feeling afraid, i didn’t burst into flames or anything. sure, my heart rate might jump for a bit, i might feel a bit sweaty/nauseous for a couple minutes. but then i swallow it and continue on my path. by going through Fear instead of doing a 180 away from it, i can continue moving forwards instead of backwards. i can grow and progress, not stagnate. and another hard lesson i’ve learned is that the stagnation from avoiding my life has arguably caused me the most pain, far more than the fear of life itself.

i isolated myself from my friends (missing one of their weddings which i have to try to not beat myself up about for the rest of my life). i stalled in my education. i was cut off socially, emotionally because i was in denial, and going nowhere.

so i think i’ve just reached a point where anything is better than this. than a lonely, unfulfilled future where i reach none of my potential. on my deathbed all i’d feel is profound disappointment. and to that idea my gut reaction is HELL NO. is this what they mean about actually hitting rock bottom, even though i felt like i’ve hit it countless times before?

because now, i am finally willing to fight for what i want even if it’s the hardest thing i’ll ever do. once school starts, my days are gonna be long as hell. work during the day, and schoolwork on evenings/weekends, so logistically i need to make my life flow to accommodate how hectic my schedule will become. i’ll do so with the following steps:

gonna clean my apartment and car to stepford-levels of cleanliness (in progress, about 50% done). will also go on an organizing spree. i’m generally a neat person, but it could always be better you know? my state of mind is usually amplified by the state of my surroundings, so that’s one of the best ways to help myself.

gonna stock up on non-perishables/cat supplies/toiletries to keep effort spent on grocery shopping and errands to a minimum from september to december.

gonna nail down a healthy meal prep routine so i can properly fuel my carcass through everything. cereal for dinner won’t cut it anymore.

in general, i will develop solid self-care routines in the areas of sleep, fitness (will work in occasional exercise where i can to let off steam), food, and giving myself mental breaks. again, this will keep me from losing my shit.

this is my 4 point plan, and notice how little of it has to do with school itself. but i know that if i take care of myself properly, i can ground myself enough to get through anything.

studying, homework, going to class, the pressure of exams...i feel confident, finally, that i can take all of it on. in fact, i’m starting to feel my old competitive spark slowly coming to life again, and i’m tempted to say bring it on.

and sure, Fear isn’t going anywhere. i haven’t vanquished it or anything. far from it; it’s still right there, making my chest tight when it gets really bad. but what’s changed is that i’m not afraid of Fear itself anymore. that is a huge distinction i’ve had to make, and it’s taken me years to get here. it’s much easier to do The Thing and confront Fear while doing so, rather than avoid both The Thing and Fear altogether. because that way of life was miserable for me, whereas option 1 will actually yield results. and weirdly enough...avoiding Fear doesn’t even make you like, less afraid or anything. what the hell?

so, after years of struggling and cowering and letting myself off easy for everything, it’s that simple. i’ve boiled my approach down to something weirdly logical and direct, because i’m over this shit, to put it elegantly. i will enthusiastically and unabashedly go after what i want in life, and when Fear inevitably pops up on occasion, as it always will, i’ll acknowledge it with a nod or a small dab (lol), and then continue doing what i was doing. i can be afraid without letting it paralyze me. fear isn’t really able to stop my body from doing what i want it to, i can actually smash my way through that mental barrier. i think that is what is at the core of the concept of bravery, and anybody is capable of it (yes i got that from soul eater, a life-changing message).

so i simultaneously feel insanely motivated and driven for the first time in years, and also scared as shit. it’s the strangest feeling, a kind of nervous euphoria. but it’s okay. knowing that if i just trust the process and take things a day at a time, i will get to where i want to be eventually; that makes it so much easier. in my mind, this lends incredible significance to every little step along this journey. keeping good work habits and taking care of myself are what it’s going to take, and truly understanding that every Good thing i do for myself, even the tiniest thing, is what will get me there one day. it removes resistance from my thought process, and resistance is usually what gets me to cave, and run away. it makes every difficult, necessary step worth it to me, and that is what fuels me.

so ultimately, my conclusion is this: i’m just going to have to get strong enough to carry my fear with me throughout the whole journey and use it to fuel me, instead of letting it pin me in one place for the rest of my life. and that’s the thing: invariably, over time, the relative burden of that weight decreases as you get stronger.

so knowing that, how could i not just charge forward like a maniac, fear be damned? because the truth is that i can overcome it in the present moment with enough effort, and in time, it won’t take anywhere near the same amount of effort. pain is always temporary, so i don’t need to fear it right? i just have to use pain, and Fear of pain, and that’s the promise i’m making to myself as i attempt to close an unpleasant chapter in my life.

i’m finally getting back my drive, my spark, when for so long i just tried to convince myself i didn’t actually want the things that i did. i thought that my goals were unobtainable, that i was too weak or incompetent to achieve them, so i may as well convince myself i didn’t even want them in the first place. isn’t that sad? it really is, and i’m trying to reflect on Past Me with compassion, instead of frustration for all the lost time and unhappiness. it won’t change anything, and i want nothing more than to move forward. because one day, it will all have been worth it.

#diary of nova #holy shit this got long #it's a culmination of all my introspection and analyzing of my state of mind since april #that's my form of therapy #diving into my own mind for answers and trying to be 100% honest with myself #i know it's long but if any of you struggle with anxiety chronically or acutely #there are some tidbits in there that i hope can help you #anxiety

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maealbert · 7 years

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Don’t Leave Me.

AU Characters: Emily Prentiss x Reader

A/N: Another fic idea but from the episode, ‘Lauren’.

Summary:

Team finds Emily in Boston after her encounter with Ian Doyle. Reader fights to ride along to the hospital with Emily and doesn’t leave her side until she’s taken back for surgery. (love, love, and more love)

Master List

The team waited outside the warehouse. Guards stood outside the doors. Guns in arms as they walked back and forth. Derek was the first to go surrounded by the SWAT team. The others quickly followed in suit once the guards were taken down. “Derek, go straight, the rest of us will split up.” Hotch orders.

“I’m going with Derek.” You say.

“No, I want you to go with Rossi and I.” Hotch says.

“I’m going with Derek.” You argue before running down the north hallway after Derek. You walk past a body on the floor recognizing him at the one from the townhouse. How could you miss the grey beard underneath that tiny white mask? You continued down the hallway until you heard footsteps coming in your direction. You held your gun out in front of you to see a SWAT member.

“We found her.” He says into his walkie talkie.

“WE NEED A MEDIC!” You heard Derek yell from down the hallway. Instantly you take off down the hall and turn the corner to find Derek hovering over Emily holding her hands.

“No, stay with me Emily. Squeeze my hands. Keep squeezing them.”

You fall to your knees beside her and move Derek’s hand so control the small bleeding from where the wooden stake punctured her abdomen. Emily lets out a small groan. Her eyes slightly opening. “You’re going to be okay.” You say trying to fight back the tears.

“Let me go..” You hear her mutter.

“No, we’re doing that.” Derek says. “You are going to live, Emily. You hear me?” Her eyes start to close and her grip loosens on Derek’s hand. Soon the medics showed up. Hotch tried to hold you back from getting inside of the ambulance.

“Let go of me!” You scream. “Let go!”

“You can’t go with her.” He says.

“Bullshit.” You say finally freeing yourself and jumping into the ambulance. The medics close the doors before Hotch yell at you. You grab hold of Emily’s hand and you feel her hand grasp yours. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” She squeezes your hand. “There you go.” But her grip loosened again and the heart monitor went crazy.

“We’re losing her!” The medic shouted.

“We’re five minutes out.” The driver spoke.

“We don’t have five minutes!” He shouted back. The medic hands you an oxygen mask to place her as he unbuttons her shirt. “I’m gonna need you to start pumping air into her. When I say clear move away.” You pump the air down Emily’s throat as the medic pumps her chest.

“Come on Em..” You whisper. “Don’t leave us..”

“Clear!” The medic shouts. You move away from Emily as he shocks her heart. Looking up at the monitor it still beeps for a while before going back to normal. “We got her back.”

“Oh thank gosh..” You sigh in relief. You fall back against the side of the ambulance closing your eyes.

“Close call agent.” The medic says sitting down next to you. He grabs your hand and you turn your head to look at her. “Plus I couldn’t live with the fact if I let an FBI agent die.”

Arriving at the hospital you jump out of the ambulance as they take Emily out. They rush her in, your hand still holding onto hers. “I’m sorry agent, but you have to stay here.” The doctor says as he holds you back. “I’ll be out later to give you an update.” He disappears behind the double doors leaving you alone in the hallway, Emily’s blood still on your hands. Staggering to the bathroom you wash your hands off and go to wait in the waiting room. And couple hours later the others showed up. JJ carried an extra blouse in her hands for you to change into. “Thanks you.” You say getting back up to go change. As you headed down the hall to the bathroom you see the doctor come out.

“Oh good.” He says walking up to you. “She is out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood, but you are more than welcome to come see her.”

“Thank gosh.” You sigh in relief before following him to the room. Once you got to her room you walk in to find her still asleep from the surgery. A tube down her throat and IVs stuck in her arms. Her chest rising and falling in a slow pace. You feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning your head JJ stands there.

“You can’t be in here.” She says.

“What? Why?”

“It’s complicated...”

“Complicated how? It can’t be more complicated than feeling the life leaving her body.” You say.

“I don’t want to argue with you, (Y/N).” She says. “You need to leave.” You turn back to face Emily. You stand up from the chair and begin to let go of Emily’s hand when you feel her grasp onto it. You spin around to look at her. Her eyes slowly opening. “Emily..” JJ gasped as she walked over to the bed. “Go grab a doctor.” She says.

“So you can lock me out of the room?” You say. “Not gonna happen. You go find a doctor.” JJ sighs and exits the room.

“Vital signs are good, I’d like to keep her a couple nights.” The doctor says.

“I planned on moving her to Bethesda.” Hotch speaks up from across the room. You and Emily both look between him and JJ. “We’re gonna tell the team that Emily didn’t make it off the table.”

“What?” Emily says. “Hotch-”

“By telling them you’re dead, we can sneak you out of the country and get you hidden under fake identities. Anything to protect you from Doyle.” Hotch continues. “And since (Y/N) is the only one who knows besides JJ and myself, she’ll be going with you and JJ to Paris. JJ will get you your bank accounts and identities and (Y/N) will help get your settled into your new place.”

“So that’s your plan? By hurting the team?” Emily says. “I-I-I can’t do that..”

“It’s the only option we have.”

“No the only option we have is finding Doyle and ending him once and for all.” Emily continues to argue.

“We can’t risk losing you for good.” Hotch says. “This is for your own good.”

“But Doyle is ruthless. He won’t stop until he kills me.”

“He has others things on his mind.” You say. “We found out about Declan. By now he thinks you’re dead and already planning on getting his son back. Hence the reason why he disappeared when we showed up back at the warehouse.”

“So I really don’t have a choice in this, do I?” Emily says looking at Hotch.

He shakes his head. “It’s what is best for you right now.”

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for us to find Doyle again.”

*two weeks later*

Landing in Paris you adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder before walking through the airport to the exit. Hailing down a taxi, you give him the address and he drives off. Arriving at the house you pull out the keys from your pocket and unlock the door. Dropping your bag down by the stairs you turn on all the lights and head into the kitchen. Opening the fridge you find it full of food just like you had requested. There were still non-perishable foods sittings in bags on the floor so you started to fill the pantry with it. Once you were finished your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pull it out to see a text from JJ.

‘We just landed. She’ll heading your way in a couple hours. I have stop by the Embassy and pick her documents.’

You send a text back and finish getting the rest of the house ready. Hotch had Emily’s clothing and personal items shipped over a couple hours ago. The boxes sat in the garage. Unpacking her clothes you hung most of it and putting the rest in the drawers.

“(Y/N)?” You hear Emily call from downstairs. You look down at your watch. Time flies by fast.

“Upstairs!” You call back before going to fix the bed sheets and the pillows.

“Nice house.” She comments walking into the bedroom.

“Nice outfit.” You say looking her up and down. “And the wig. Nice touch.”

“I see Hotch got all my stuff over here.” She says unbuttoning her jacket.

“Uh yeah.. I got most of it put away, just a couple small boxes left in the garage, mostly clothes in those. Uh I got the pantries filled, fridge is fully stocked, Hotch said that cable and wifi has been installed. Don’t worry about any bills. They’ll be taken care of.”

“How long will you be here?” She asks.

“Probably until the weekend and then I have to fly back before the team gets suspicious.”

“What did you tell them when you left?”

“I was going to Paris to visit my mother. Which technically isn’t a lie. She does work here.” You say sitting down on the bed. Emily pulls off her wig, her short black hair falling down onto her shoulders. “You know the number to call if you need anything.”

“I still can’t believe you got another phone.” Emily says sitting on the bed to take off her boots.

“The only way to keep in contact with you without giving away your location or identity.” You say winking at her. “You need someone to talk to while you’re here.”

It was Friday morning, just three hours until you had to be at the airport. Sitting up in the bed you climb out and head to the bathroom to take a shower. Once dressed and ready you start pack your bag before going down to make something to eat.

Sticking another spoon full of cereal in your mouth you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Emily appears in the kitchen and pours herself some of coffee. “You’re leaving already?” She says.

You nod your head. “I have to be at the airport in a couple hours.” You reply eating more cereal.

“Do you have to go?”

“Unfortunately I have to. You know how Garcia gets.. If I don’t get back on time she’ll find me and my mom doesn’t live all the way out here.” Emily sighs and sits down next to you on one of the bar stools. “I’m only a phone call away, you know that.” You say laying your hand on hers. “This is only temporary.”

Emily looks up at you. “Don’t leave me..” She whispers.

“I wish I didn’t have to.” You say as she lays her forehead against yours. “I’ll FaceTime when I’m home from a case. We’ll stay in contact so you never feel alone.” You pull your head away and go to put your bowl in the dishwasher. Emily jumps off the stool and presses you against the counter. Her hands resting on your cheeks. Her lips press to yours. She pulls away after a few seconds.

“Just in case I don’t get another chance to do this.” She says looking you in your eyes. A car horn sounds from outside and you look at the clock on the microwave.

“I’m sorry.. I have to go.” You say slipping out from between her and the counter. You run to the foyer grabbing your bag off the floor. Opening the door you look back at her, her eyes starting to glisten with tears. You quickly turn around so you didn’t start yourself. You pulled the door shut behind you and raced down to the taxi.

“Airport miss?” The taxi drivers asks as he puts the car in drive.

“Yes, sir.” You look out of the back window as the house slowly disappears from your view. Once it was gone from your sights you feel your phone vibrating and you pull it out to see nothing. Then you remembered the other phone. Pulling it out from the pocket of the duffel you see a text from Emily.

‘I already miss you...’

‘I miss you too..’

Odd ending but I starting to lose it so I ended it where I could.

If you liked this one than please be sure to leave it some love!

Thank you! :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds au #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #paget brewster #reader insert

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agilenano · 4 years

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Agilenano - News: The Right Way To Move: 28 Tips to Save Money and Reduce Stress

Being a new homebuyer is full of excitement. You’ve found your ideal home and negotiated the price. Now it’s time to think about moving in. Since the average moving cost can range anywhere between $2,300 to $4,300, the process deserves some serious cost analysis. After all, you’d rather spend that money on new furnishings and home improvements, right? Are there ways to cut costs when moving and settling into your new home? To find out, we consulted official governmental data and talked with real estate agent Ann Hoke, a No. 1-ranked producer in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and real estate agent Virginia Gergoff, an associate of HomeLight condo specialist Kymber Lovett-Menkiti in Washington, D.C. Consider these 28 ways to save money before, during, and after your move. Source: (Skitterphoto / Pexels)How to save money before and during your move Be smart about your moving strategy to keep from overspending. 1. Plan ahead When people get in a rush, they tend to spend more money than they would have otherwise. Planning your move weeks or even months beforehand will not only help you reduce stress but can also help you save money. For example, is there a friend or relative who may let you store boxes of non-essential items in their garage for a few weeks? Could you ship some of your books using the media rate at the post office? Are there friends who could help with the heavy lifting? Planning ahead can help you creatively save money during your move. 2. Do your research The American Moving and Storage Association recommends getting at least three quotes for moving services. In order to ensure you’re getting a good deal, make sure the quotes are “apples to apples,” meaning each company is charging for the same services. But beware — if you see a quote that’s significantly lower than the others, that could mean the company forgot to include a major line item, and you could end up paying add-on costs later. “Choose a moving company that offers a fixed estimate,” Gergoff says. That way, you know exactly what you’ll be paying and can budget accordingly. 3. Ask for a deal Because most people move on the weekends and at the change of a month, sometimes moving companies will offer deals if you move mid-week or mid-month. Whether you plan to hire movers or rent a moving truck, it never hurts to ask for a discount, especially if your schedule can be flexible. Source: (Stokkete / Shutterstock)4. Use coupons wisely Hunt for moving coupons on sites like Groupon and RetailMeNot where you can find discounts on supplies, trucks, and moving companies. Savings up to 50% off can really help slim down your moving expenses! 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Move incrementally If possible, have your real estate agent schedule your closing prior to the date you have to leave your current residence. Not only will you save yourself a lot of logistical stress, you’ll also save money. Moving multiple carloads of boxes over time would allow you to rent a smaller truck, which could mean a 25% to 50% savings, depending upon size. You may also get a better deal on moving services since there would only be large furniture items left. 7. Get creative with packing supplies Packing supplies for a three-to-four-bedroom house can cost around $264, but there are many ways that you can reduce or even eliminate that cost. Start gathering boxes from local businesses a few weeks before your move. Grocery stores, liquor stores, and dollar stores tend to be more accommodating and have better quality boxes than big box stores. Often if you call ahead, managers will set aside boxes for you on delivery days. You can also watch social media sites to get boxes from people who have recently moved. Many times people will post “curb alerts” after they’ve unpacked their things. To avoid paying for bubble wrap and garment boxes, Hoke recommends using towels as packing material and trash bags around hanging items. Simply slide clothing into the bag and tie a knot at the hook of the hangers. Source: (Crystal de Passillé-Chabot / Unsplash)8. Don’t overspend on cleaning supplies When you move, you’ll want to have plenty of cleaning supplies for both your current residence and your new home. You’ve likely got what you need to move out and leave the place “broom clean.” But your new home is going to need the white-glove treatment. Consider saving both time and money by pre-ordering supplies from places like Costco, BJ’s, or Amazon and having them shipped to your new address. 9. Consider shipping containers instead of movers “Moving companies are expensive,” Hoke says. Instead, she recommends moving containers, if your schedule and physical ability allows. For a complete rundown of the major moving container companies nationwide, visit our Pod Squad guide. 10. Take expensive fixtures with you Gergoff says, “Bring fixtures from the old house that you may be able to use in the new house.” If you’ve put in expensive faucets or chandeliers, consider switching them out to more standard versions before you sell your home. Your buyers may not even like the fixtures, so you might as well save money on your own upgrades at the new house! Just be sure to make the changes before the listing photos, so that buyers know exactly what they’re getting. 11. Practice intentional meal-planning With all the pressures of moving, who has the time or energy to cook? While it’s tempting to outsource cooking to the pros, eating at restaurants during a move can end up busting your budget if you’re not careful. Instead, plan out the meals you’ll need before your move. Don’t forget to incorporate all perishables in your fridge and freezer, and use up pantry items too, if possible. You don’t want to box up a bunch of cans, and you definitely don’t want to throw away pounds of frozen chicken! Meal planning during a move may require some creativity and flexibility (frozen waffles for dinner, anyone?), but the cost savings are significant. If there comes a time during your move when you simply can’t cook, be smart about your restaurant choices. Order take-out to save on the cost of drinks and tips. Use coupons or take advantage of local promotions like “kids eat free” nights. Thinking strategically can go a long way toward protecting your bottom line — and your waistline! Source: (Annie Gray / Unsplash)How to save money after you move in Simple maintenance and proactive energy measures can make a big difference. 12. Get an energy audit An energy audit is a service conducted by a professional that’s designed to identify areas of energy loss throughout the home. Energy auditors use specialized equipment to determine if there are places where energy is leaking out of the home, and they will make recommendations for conserving energy based upon usage habits. Implementing the directives of an energy audit can save homeowners between 5% and 30% on their energy bills annually. A home energy audit costs $408 on average but can vary greatly depending upon square footage. However, in some areas, your electricity provider will offer free energy audits as an initiative to optimize energy usage throughout the service area. Check with your provider before paying a third-party source. 13. Wait to make renovations Gergoff tells all her clients to wait at least six months before making major changes to their new homes. “Live in the house a little bit before you decide what to do,” she says. You may end up liking a feature you thought you wouldn’t, or you may have a different idea that would increase efficiency, build more equity, or improve your quality of life in your new home. 14. Lower the temperature on your water heater The U.S. Department of Energy advises homeowners to turn their water heater thermostat down to 120 degrees from the typical 140 degrees set by the manufacturer. According to their calculations, this simple change could save between $36 to $61 per year, and more than $400 in demand loss. That’s a savings of between 4% and 22% on your energy bill, depending upon hot water usage. Plus, turning down the heat could help prevent scalding! 15. Insulate your pipes Pipe insulation is another easy way to save money on energy bills. Thirty-six linear feet of pipe insulation costs around $24, and insulating 1” hot water pipes can save between $2 and $4 per linear foot per year. Pipe insulation pays for itself in less than a year! Plus, you get the added benefit of shielding your pipes from extreme temperatures. No pipe insulation claims a complete guarantee against frozen pipes, but because insulation helps regulate the interior water temperature, it can help prevent freezing. Source: (Kazuky Akayashi / Unsplash)16. Check for leaks at the sinks Take a peek under the sinks. Any water or moisture below the drain pipes can cause damage to the cabinetry over time and may lead to mold growth. Hiring a plumber at the first sign of a problem will save you money later. Similarly, keep an eye on the faucets. Disregard a leaky faucet for too long and you may wash between $20 and $200 dollars down the drain per year. 17. Upgrade your thermostat Smart thermostats adjust the interior temperature according to the daily schedule of the home. When the house is empty, you can raise the thermostat by 7 to 10 degrees during summer months and lower it 10 degrees during winter months. Other factors aside, those temperature modifications could end up saving you between 10% and 15% on your energy bill. 18. Shop secondhand Big-ticket items such as dining tables, lawnmowers, bed frames, patio furniture, and entertainment centers can often be found at deep discounts if you purchase them used. Browse local direct-by-owner sales sites such as Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace to find savings up to 90% off list price, according to Gergoff. 19. Check your attic insulation Hopefully, your home inspector checked for insulation prior to purchase, but did they check the quality of the insulation? Insulation is measured in terms of thermal resistance, or R-values. Higher R-values equal greater insulating effectiveness. Consult your local insulation professional regarding the recommended R-values for your area, or consult this zone chart from the U.S. Department of Energy. Improving your attic insulation could save up to 15% on heating and cooling costs, or 11% on overall energy usage. 20. Shop local Often local hardware shops will offer discounts to their community members, so you may be able to get a better price than you would at big-box home improvement stores. Also, many local shops run free weekend seminars that will teach you how to do repairs and upgrades yourself. Learning to put in your own shed, backsplash, or landscaping could save hundreds of dollars. Source: (Anthony Rooke / Unsplash)21. Install ceiling fans The Department of Energy says, “Ventilation is the least expensive and most energy-efficient way to cool a home.” Installing ceiling fans creates circulation in a room, which helps occupants feel cooler at higher temperatures. Don’t forget to turn the fan off when leaving a room, though. A fan makes people more comfortable, but it cannot lower room temperatures. 22. Replace your air filters The Department of Energy also says that replacing the air filters in your home can lower the energy consumption of your heating and cooling system by up to 15%. Considering that the HVAC system accounts for around 45% of the average household’s energy bill, reducing consumption is a big deal! Filters last between 1 to 6 months, depending upon the material type used. Check your filter near the end of its lifespan, and replace accordingly. And don’t forget to clean your vents regularly, too! 23. Implement a hang-to-dry laundry system An average load of laundry costs between 36 cents and 45 cents to run in the dryer, assuming approximately 40 to 45 minutes of drying time. That may not sound like a lot, but over time, that electricity adds up. If you run five loads per week, that’s up to $2.25 per week or $117 per year. Instead, consider hanging up your damp laundry whenever possible. Line drying in your laundry room may work well in cold months, if you have the space. Setting up a clothesline outside is even better. That way, you won’t have to consider any increased humidity risks, such as mold and mildew. 24. Change your lightbulbs LED lightbulbs may have a more expensive tag on the shelf, but over time, those LED bulbs add up to big savings. Lower energy usage and a longer lifespan mean that switching from an incandescent lightbulb to an LED lightbulb can save $61.55 over ten years. Replace all the bulbs in your new home and rack up some serious savings! 25. Upgrade to energy-efficient appliances Appliances with the blue Energy Star label are certified to reduce energy consumption and emissions. Certain Energy Star appliances have a greater impact than others. For example, an energy-efficient dishwasher might only save you about $2 a year. However, replacing a clothes washer can save around $40 per year and $415 over its lifespan. For more on energy cost savings, check out this Energy Star consumer guide. Source: (Jan Huber / Unsplash)26. Plant shade trees Shade trees are not only pleasant for outdoor activities, they’re also essential for keeping utility costs down. Trees planted on the west and south sides of a house can save around $25 per year in cooling costs, depending upon the climate, and can also reduce carbon emissions by 30% over time. Check with your local nursery or consult the USDA growing zones to find the shade tree that’s best for your yard. Give trees 1,600 square feet (40’ x 40’) to grow, in order to protect your foundation, landscaping, and driveway from being damaged by roots. 27. Seal up doors, windows, and other openings Add up all the little sources of air loss around a home, and you may be looking at the equivalent of a hole fourteen inches wide. Use weather stripping around doors and windows to keep drafts under control. Seal up outlets, light fixtures, laundry dampers, and other gaps in building materials with caulk. Check for any malfunction at the fireplace damper. And make sure the basement and attic entrances are as insulated as possible. 28. Mark any cracks Some small cracks in basement walls, foundations, patios, and even drywall are common as homes settle and flex. However, growing cracks could indicate a problem with the foundation, which can lead to significant expenses. Use painter’s tape to mark any cracks you may find now. In a few months, reexamine the area to see if the cracks have spread beyond the tape. Moving and settling into your home is a big undertaking. Intentional money-saving choices now can add up to big savings over time. And that’s good news! Because as a new homebuyer, those savings can be well-spent turning your house into a home. Header Image Source: (Burst / Pexels) #Buyers #GettingAcclimated #Homeownership

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