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scarlettriot · 2 years

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Hide & Seek • 73 Days

Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader

Warnings: Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI, Trespassing, Vigilanteisum, Blood, Passing Out due to Injuries, A Very Corrupt Commission

Contains: Aged-up characters to late 20s. Reader is a vigilante, Kiri is still a Pro (for now). Reader makes changes to her appearance as a means of disguise. Reader also has a quirk. Kiri calls Reader Sweets as a nickname.

Summary: When a mission goes very wrong, you decide you can't be a part of the cover-up and therefore go off-grid. Kiri can't stop looking for you though.

Tag List: @meggsngrits • @weebaboobs • @katditca • @silverhairsimp • @bigmooncheeks

Word Count: 2,532

A/N: Brand new series! I hope you all enjoy it. If you saw my post regarding this fic a few hours ago and read the blurb, you can skip to below the cut. My editing on this is probably ass so sorry in advance. Happy reading ♥️

There was more than one type of villain in the world. They didn’t all wear dark clothes or hide in the shadows of back alleys.

Being a Pro Hero allowed Eijiro to see the very scum of the earth. People who got their rocks off by doing some of the vilest of things. But, what he was never able to wrap his brain around was the fact some of those people blended into the daily masses. They existed right in front of his nose, and there wasn’t a damn thing he, or any other Pro, could do about it.

They were untouchable.

It was all pretty words and red tape that kept the heroes in line. Being led to believe they were doing everything for the right reasons so they could rest easy at night. But, Eijiro wasn’t resting easy anymore. Each time he signed a new NDA or was told to withhold information during an interview or conferences, it was like a part of his very soul was being ripped away. What little he had remaining was torn away as soon as he read your letter…

He’d known something had been wrong after the mission. You didn’t immediately turn over the NDA but instead took the 24-hour timeframe they allowed and left work for the day. You didn’t text him aside from letting him know you made it home okay. He hadn't heard from you all night long. And then he woke up in the morning to find that fucking note slid under his front door.

You had to tell someone, it said, and he was the only person you trusted completely.

He thought he knew what it was going to say. After all, cover-ups were such a shitty thing to deal with, but this one, it was so fucking bad. It pushed you too far. He thought you turned in the NDA and were just going to take some time off. That you needed to clear your head. But it was so much more than that.

I can't stand by and do nothing anymore. Someone has to end this.

The note didn’t say where you were going or what you intended to do precisely; you didn’t want to put him in the middle of anything since the commission would be after you now. But there were a few words at the very bottom of the page that captured all his attention. He read them over and over:

I really hope I get to see you again someday. I love you, Ei.

You were one of his best friends, and now you were just gone?

No. No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t accept it!

He was supposed to be in the office today but going to work was the furthest thing from his mind. He drove right to your house, hoping there was some slim chance you might still be there. He used the spare key you’d given him for emergencies and found your home in its usual state… minus you.

Your backpack was gone and your favorite sneakers weren’t by the front door. Those seemed to be the only things out of place. You’d left your purse behind with all the cards in your wallet. Cash was gone though.

He found your cell phone, agency access card, and hero license on your nightstand right next to the picture of you and all your friends at graduation. Stuck to the corner of the frame was a yellow sticky note with four words: I really am sorry.

Eijiro had held it together right up until that point. But with that yellow little square piece of paper in his hands, he sat on the edge of your bed and let grief and rage take over. It was like you knew he’d come looking. Like you knew he’d beat any commission agent here.

He left everything exactly the way you left it except for that sticky note. That little piece of paper he kept with the letter, tucked away in the lining of his wallet where he knew it’d be safe.

When the commission questioned him about your disappearance, he played the fool. Acted as if he had the same information everyone else did. Of course, he didn’t have to pretend to display hurt and anger. Those came naturally nowadays.

They went through your office and locker. Talked to all your co-workers. Tore your home apart looking for any clue where you might’ve gone or what you planned to do.

There was some twisted part of Eijiro that hoped you had the courage to do what none of them did and blow the lid off this whole damn thing. Expose them for who they really were. But, days passed, and then weeks, now months had slipped by, and nothing even remotely close to that happened.

You were barely brought up outside your group of friends anymore. The commission kept a file open on you, and it was well known that if anyone had information on your whereabouts, it was to be brought to their attention immediately. Until then though, it was just business as usual.

Patrols and missions, office work, and press conferences. The world went on, but your friends couldn’t. Certainly not Eijiro.

It was tearing him up not knowing anything about where you were. If you were okay. If you were safe. He felt sick, couldn’t eat like normal, and lost so much sleep.

Those quiet hours that should’ve brought his mind peace only filled it with worry. He’d pull your letter out, now fraying at the edges, and read it time and time again even though he had every word of it memorized.

I love you.

The two of you tossed those words back and forth between each other for years now. Since you were students at UA. Eijiro couldn’t remember when the meaning of them changed. When the love he felt for you grew into something bigger. But, he could recall staying up until dawn with you trying to sort through it.

A single night wasn’t enough to figure it out. Years weren’t enough time to figure it out. You both kept pushing it off because admitting love and being in relationships in your line of work was so fucking dangerous.

So, you’d hold each other a little too long, let your lips linger on his cheek, let his fingers fill the spaces between yours, and sometimes, warm each other's beds when nights got a bit too lonely. It was enough. Or that’s what he told himself.

But now, in these ungodly hours, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and never let you go again. He wanted to kiss you and pour out his heart. And he would. Gods, he was going to if it was the very last thing he did. He’d never give up on finding you. If he couldn’t bring you home, then he’d go wherever the hell you were because he was confident, now more than ever before, that wherever you were was where he was meant to be.

For 72 days, his determination never once wavered. The search for you was completely off the radar, so the commission wouldn’t have a clue he and the rest of your friends were still on the hunt to find where you’d gone.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they had found out. You were wanted after all, and they were under strict orders to bring you in if found. Not that any of them intended to do such a thing if they ever actually did find you. When they found you.

The search was exhausting. In Eijiro’s free time, he visited your favorite places, hoping you might have a craving for your favorite drink from that little cafe you always went to. Or, on nice days, he’d head into the park and walk right by that tree you loved reading under. Even when he was on the clock, he’d use his patrol shifts to ask around, hoping someone matching your description might sound familiar to a shop owner. He stopped into the hospitals on many occasions or asked around hotels. Anything he could think of!

For 72 days, there hadn’t been a single lead. But, the 73rd would bring a ray of hope in the form of an envelope tucked away in a file he’d just received.

I can only buy you a day's head start before the commission sees this too…

Eijiro knew Kyoka’s quick slanted writing. She went on to explain that a woman had been spotted lurking around the warehouse district for the last three nights. There was no detailed description, not by a long shot! Just a feminine figure, in their twenties maybe, wearing dark clothes with a hood. There wasn’t a hint about if they had a quirk or not. The whole report would probably be laughed off by the commission, and maybe that was a good thing. They weren’t desperate for a lead like Eijiro was. Things they just blew off, he clung to like a lifeline.

It nearly killed him waiting for night to fall. He made himself dinner and a drink to try and calm his nerves, but it didn’t do any good. He just ended up pacing around, nearly wearing trenches in the floorboards.

By the time he left his house, he had his bright hair tied back and hidden under the hood of the dark jacket he put on. There wasn’t much he could do about being as tall as he was, but he hoped this late it wouldn’t really matter. Still, just to be safe, he avoided the patrol routes he knew by heart while still taking the most direct path to the district as he could, making only one stop along the way.

It was a seedy little shop, but he needed a phone since he left his back at his house that way, it couldn't be tracked. If shit got real bad, he had a couple numbers memorized just in case.

He hopped the fence to the rows and rows of warehouses when the camera’s turned away. Hardening his skin to easily make it over the wiring at the top and landed on the opposite side with ease.

There was a lot of ground to cover. It would’ve been better if he had help, but he wasn’t willing to drag anyone else into this. At least, not until he had actual confirmation it was you running around here.

The rooftops of the massive buildings seemed like the most logical place to begin scouting. He carefully made his way in between buildings, peaking in windows just in case something might stick out, and then headed up the six flights of stairs when he reached an access point.

With the additional height, he was able to move around in the shadows more freely, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that might seem out of place. The problem was, nothing did.

Two hours had passed, and aside from a couple trucks that seemed to be making legitimate pickups and deliveries, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No suspicious vehicles or dark figures running about (besides himself). But, he’d stay out until daybreak if it meant having a chance of finding you.

Another hour went by, and he’d been crouching low on one of the roofs he’d jumped over to. He had a decent vantage point of one of the few warehouses that had several lights still on and thought maybe something might happen if he watched it long enough.

He’d spotted a figure walking into and out of one of the beams of light, but they were moving slowly, reading something. He didn’t think much of it. But he’d been too preoccupied watching this person that he didn’t hear someone else creeping up behind him.

A pair of arms slipped around his neck before he knew what was happening, and he activated his quirk as second nature. The person held tight though, even as they hissed in pain. Eijiro stood, his arm reaching behind, trying to get a good hold to yank them off, but they just wrapped their legs around his torso.

For a moment, he couldn’t think if he should actually fight back since he wasn’t on duty, and he sure as shit wasn’t supposed to be here. But, any official security wouldn’t have jumped him without identifying themselves first…

They still pulled their arms together against the sharpened plates of his neck like they were determined to choke him out. He felt the warmth of their blood seep into the cracks of his skin, and enough was enough.

His fingers cracked and sharpened to their claw-like points. Reaching behind him again, Eijiro ripped through the fabric of their top and pierced right through to their flesh. He threw them over his shoulder, and they landed hard with their back smacking down on the cold cement roof.

He wasted no time. Eijiro yanked their hood off and watched hair spill out that he didn’t quite recognize. But, when their eyes cracked open, gods, he would’ve recognized those eyes anywhere.

Fear pumped through his veins and brought him to his knees.“Y/N…” He’d finally found you only to throw you on your back and see blood trickling from the edge of your mouth.

“Ya got me good this time, Eiji.”

He knew he did too. Your blood ran hot down his fingers and it made him feel ill.

You coughed, and more came up with it. Not willing to waste a second more, he gathered you up in his arms and tried not to think about how hard you hit your head.

“Eijiro, p–please don’t take m’in. Just ‘tend like ya never found me.”

“I’m not takin’ you in!” He jumped down the flights of stairs back down to the ground. “I just gouged out a chunk of your back and whacked your head on fucking concrete! I’m gonna patch you up, and you’re not gonna complain ‘bout it!”

Your weak laugh made his heart clench. “If– If I don’t complain, will you lemme walk away after?”

He swallowed thickly, “If I can’t convince you to stay…”

He didn’t care about property damages. He barely even waited for the cameras to turn away before he was sprinting back to the fence and sliced a hole clean through it to get the two of you to the other side.

“I’ve almost found ‘em again, Ei.” Your head fell against his chest, eyes fluttering closed, and he ran faster than he ever had before down the sidewalk.

“Hey! Sweets! Don’t do this! I’ve taken you down way harder than that before, " That was a lie, "Don’t you go passin’ out on me now!”

“Gonna get ‘em. Go–gonna brin’ ‘em back…”

“Sweets–!” He tried jostling you in his arms, “Y/N!”

You were still breathing at least. He pulled the burner out of his pocket and called the only person he thought could help. “It’s Kirishima, I-- I didn't know who else to call. Can you meet me at my place? It's an emergency.”

#mha #bnha #mha fic #kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima hurt comfort #kirishima fic #scar's writing again 📕#best red rock shark ♥️🦈

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writing-for-soup · 4 days

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last 6 lines

tagged by @luvwich and tysm for it - this is so cool and fun :)

Rules: Share the last 6 lines of any of your WIPs.

I have a few WIPs on the go at the minute and I'd be so excited to share snippes from any of them, but this is the one that's been lingering in ther corners of my mind the longest. I'm thinking it'll be a 5-chapter angsty piece about corpoV/Goro heavily influenced by my first Cyberpunk playthrough. This snippet would be the end of the first chapter - enjoy!

The last time he’d seen her, she looked very much like someone who was dead in a ditch, and she smelled like shit; he’d told her as much. Cleaned up and treated by the skilled hands of Viktor Vektor, she was a vision. Her hair, initially appearing as strings of muddied brown-gray when he’d pulled her breathing corpse into his car, was now a bob of dazzlingly bright blonde pin curls. When had she even had the time to do that since he brought her here? She’d even applied lipstick, a stylistically overdrawn bold red pout standing out from a sea of milky white skin.

“There’s my hero,” she said in a voice that was much clearer than it had been several hours ago when she’d asked croaked out a plea for help. When he’d hit her in the face. A disturbing shame burgeoned deep in his gut, a kind of disbelief that this could be the same woman he had apprehended and dragged into this clinic with little care. His training told him to put the shame aside. She had stolen, and from Saburo-sama no less.

He crossed the room to be by her bedside, examining her for further signs of damage. She looked perfectly untouched, sitting up in the bed with all the elegance of an actress from the Golden Age. Yoshiko Yamaguchi and Akira Kurosawa would surely be put to shame by her graceful neck and slim wrists as she offered a hand out to him. “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you, Takemura-san.”

It was an automatic response to take her hand in both of his and deliver a short bow. “I apologize for our unpleasant beginnings, but I believe we have a common interest that will prove advantageous to us both,” he said firmly, releasing her hand. She reached up to adjust the collars of the shirt she was wearing, so oversized that most of one collarbone was visible. It was probably one of the ripperdoc’s shirts, Goro surmised. He glanced over to the man still in the doorway, his protective stance and distracted eyes served as proof of Goro’s theory.

“Oh yes, haven’t you heard?” V’s voice was practiced and precise, drawing his attention and reminding him somewhat of Hanako-sama. Her even tone indicated ownership over the room, as well as everything and everyone in it. Goro could feel the strength of his wisdom waning, years of trained obedience being called into question under her steady gaze. He drew nearer to her, a move he couldn’t quite explain or legitimize. She maintained eye contact and reached one hand out to firmly hold his forearm. “We’re going to save each other’s lives.”

For the first time since meeting the man several hours earlier, Goro was beginning to think that perhaps Viktor Vektor had not been right after all. Goro was developing the distinct feeling that - against V - he would not in fact stand a chance.

#tag games #writing #fic writing #cyberpunk 2077 #goro takemura

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ecto-stone · 2 years

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There only the weird albino kid at home. What the worst he can do The Kid.

#Hachi art #Danny Phantom #vlad plasmius #Vlad Masters #Friend from the other side AU ??#chance for this piece to appear in the tag are slim so #i have one word to say #meow

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hb-writes · 3 years

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Replaceable

Summary: When Emma wrecks her brother’s car and ends up in the hospital, her injuries are the least of her concerns.

Characters: Christian Grey & Emma Grey (sister!OC)

Content Warning: Takes place in an emergency room, car accident, minor injuries

A/N: Sort of requested. I picked the prompt— “How are you?” "I feel like I should ask you that.”—from this list and anon suggested Christian Grey, so here’s a piece with Christian & Emma. Also lol at me taking way too long going through GIFs to find something neutral when the tag for Christian is just endless scrolling of kinky fuckery.

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.

Life in the Shade (Fifty Shades) Masterlist

Emma dreaded her brother's arrival at the hospital, but she preferred the dread to other alternatives. She was happily dreading it simply because the act of dreading meant Christian had yet to arrive. It meant rather than actually experiencing her brother’s arrival, she was merely anticipating it. Maybe it would never happen. Maybe.

Emma held fast to that faint hope, the wish that their mother could successfully deter him from stopping in. It was a misguided confidence, though. Some part of Emma knew it was unlikely that the reporting of her mostly insignificant injuries could convince Christian that she would be perfectly okay, that his presence wasn’t needed.

Emma had begged her mother anyway, begged that she at least try to convince Christian that his presence in her little curtained stall at the emergency room wasn’t warranted.

There was no need for him to clear his schedule.

There was no need for him to move his meetings.

There was no need for him to come to see her.

To lecture her.

To kill her.

Emma hoped he’d refrain from the last one, but she was starting to think it may have been better to have someone convince Christian that she was seriously injured. Maybe then he'd take pity on her, spare her. Maybe.

The chances of that were quite slim though, especially since Emma had been quite lucky. She had sustained a mild concussion and injured her wrist, but it was only a sprain. The bruising and cuts across her face made her injuries appear worse than they actually were, but Emma was perfectly fine, if not a little shaken.

It was Christian's prized Audi that took the real damage. The car that she’d promised to be extra, super careful with. The car that had cost Christian more than all four years of Emma’s university education would cost.

It would probably take her months of part-time work at the publishing house to earn enough to replace just one of his custom floor mats…

A wave of nausea passed through Emma as she heard her brother ask after her through the thin curtain. Christian’s voice effortlessly carried over the chorus of beeping machines and general chaos, meeting Emma’s ears from the nurses' station down the hall.

He sounded perfectly professional, perfectly calm, if not in a bit of a rush. That much was typical. Christian always came off a bit brash, a touch impatient.

Emma’s dread shifted. Her heart pumped harder. She had really hoped their mother would be back by the time Christian arrived. Their mother could temper the conversation, attempting to keep them in line. Emma cursed her for being occupied with actual patients.

Emma’s stomach flipped when she could no longer hear Christian over the sounds of the emergency room, his conversation with the nurses tidily wrapped up. She imagined him moving steadily down the corridor and did what any person with a reasonable measure of self-preserving instinct would do. She rolled over on the hospital bed and feigned the deepest sleep of her life, willing herself to sink into the mattress, to disappear beneath the thin white blankets.

Christian knew his sister wasn't truly asleep when he stepped through the curtain. Emma fashioned herself quite good at the act, and she generally was—she'd been tricking them all for years—but the monitor beside Emma’s bed revealed to Christian a great deal more than her closed eyes and the breaths she willed herself to deepen and slow.

Christian shrugged out of his suit jacket, setting it on the chair as he stepped closer to the bed. He leaned over his sister to observe her face. Their mother had warned him that she looked worse than she was—that the bruising was a good thing—but it still unsettled him.

Even tucked under the blankets and curled away from him, Christian could see that Emma’s color was off. Pale and wan with bruises covering her face, she sported a cut on her forehead that was freshly bandaged over with gauze. A brace wrapped around her wrist, and even though Christian knew that the injuries that looked bad were less likely to actually be bad, it wasn't much of a comfort to him seeing her there in the hospital bed.

Christian lifted her chart from the end of the bed, sifting through the pages only to confirm what his mother had already told him over the phone. Emma had a concussion, somehow the third she’d sustained in as many years. She also had a sprain in her wrist, a deep laceration on her forehead requiring stitches, and a few simple bumps and bruises. Her prognosis was good. She wouldn’t be admitted. She should stay home for a few days to rest and follow up with her primary care, but she would be perfectly fine.

Christian glanced up from the chart and caught Emma looking at him, one eye cautiously squinted open while she studied the expression on his face. She quickly squeezed both eyes shut, tugging the blankets up under her chin when Christian met her gaze.

“I know you’re awake.” Christian rolled his eyes. “No need to keep up the act.”

Emma shifted away from him again, this time turning towards the door, exaggerating her movements as if she was still half asleep, as if she had any chance of fooling him now.

“Emmeline.” Christian returned the chart to its proper place. bed.

“I’m resting,” she mumbled.

“You should be, but you’re clearly not.” Christian came around to the side of the bed. “So you and I might as well—"

Emma pulled the thin blanket over her head and curled her legs into her body as Christian spoke, a shaky breath rattling through her as a lump formed in her throat. She tried to pull herself together under the blanket. Emma knew she should probably just face him and get it over with, but something in her brother's tone set her off, the way he casually slipped into the same one he used whenever embarking on a grand lecture. All of the dread and anxiety she’d been feeling since the crash had taken over from there.

Emma hadn’t even realized Christian had stopped himself before finishing his thought. Her mind was stuck on a loop. She didn't need a lecture. She had already given herself one, guilted herself worse than Christian could ever manage, and even if a part of her felt she may have possibly, maybe earned herself a lecture...even if she felt he had every right to be upset over the state of his car, she had no wish to be shouted at in the hospital emergency room.

If he’d only give her time enough to think with a clear mind, to come up with a plan to fix it…

Emma had begged and begged and begged to borrow one of Christian’s cars. She had pleaded to be allowed to not be driven around by Ryan. They’d negotiated for what felt like weeks, and when Christian had relented, Emma had promised to be careful. She had promised and promised and promised again, replacing her initial pleas with vows of caution. Pledging to be careful with his car, pledging she would follow the rules, both his and those set by the Washington State Department of Transportation. And now that she’d done this, Emma felt certain her brother would never let her hear the end of it. She’d never be allowed to sit behind a steering wheel ever again. She’d probably never again be allowed to leave the house without the shadow of security detail. He now had enough ammo piled on his side of the battle field to warrant a call for a winner in the war waged between them.

And all this when Emma had thought she was gaining ground, convincing Christian and their parents that she could manage the independence, convincing herself of it, too.

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and a shiver passed through her drawing a whimper through her lips.

Christian’s instinct was to pull her in for a hug at hearing the sound, but he simply placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He imagined Emma was beginning to ache by now, the adrenaline and shock finally wearing off as the tenderness set in. He didn’t want to add to that any by tugging at her.

��Em, come on. Talk to me.”

She mumbled something Christian couldn’t quite decipher—a quiet refusal.

“I’m going to need you to come out from under that blanket and tell me what’s wrong.” Christian gently nudged Emma’s shoulder and she rolled onto her back, the heels of her palms pressed into her eyes as she tried to steady her breaths.

A cheerful voice called out from the other side of the curtain and “knock, knock, Miss Emma,” cut Christian off before he could coax his sister more.

Christian recognized the voice. He forced a straight-lipped smile as the familiar nurse came through the curtain without being granted entry. How his sister had managed to get herself a fan club at their mother’s hospital, he’d never quite understand, but Sarah had been working in that emergency room longer than Emma had been on this earth. She worked closely with their mother and the woman had tended to Emma more than once since the family’s move to Seattle.

In all that time, it had been clear Sarah had never particularly liked Christian, entirely unfazed by his influence or his usual charms. The nurse adored his sister though.

“Is this boy bothering you, Miss Emma?” Sarah looked between the two, taking in Christian’s grim face and Emma’s red, swollen eyes.

Christian snorted at her use of the word ‘boy.’ Sarah was maybe a decade older than him. “Well, I am her brother. If I’m not bothering her, what else am I good for?” Christian said. “It’s nice to see you again, Sarah.” He bowed his head in a gentle nod.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and hummed, looking at the girl’s chart before coming around to the side of the bed opposite of Christian.

“You as well,” Sarah offered, the words coming out almost begrudgingly. “But this girl was all up in a tizzy about not wanting her brother here, so if I hear you’ve been pestering Miss Em—”

“He’s not.” Emma interrupted with a finalizing sniffle. “Hi, Ms. Sarah.” She wiped at her face before attempting to push herself up in the bed, wincing at the movement. “How are you—”

“How am I?” Sarah laughed before fixing the girl with a look. “I feel like I’m the one who should be asking you that, silly girl.” Sarah turned her gaze from Emma, meeting Christian’s eye over the hospital bed. “Are they sure it’s only a mild concussion or is she always like this?”

Christian glanced between the nurse and his sister, pressing his lips into a straight line once again, his mind settled on remaining neutral. Neutrality was the quickest way through and Christian wanted nothing more than to get through all of this small talk. He wanted to get Sarah out of the room though he couldn’t deny her presence had pulled Emma around sooner than he would have been able to. If it wasn’t for the nurse, he knew Emma would still be perched under the blankets avoiding him.

“Just about,” he offered, watching as Emma proceeded to study the pattern on her blanket, tracing it with a finger. “Is our mother around?”

Sarah nodded to Christian. “I’ll go find her.” She turned to Emma, setting a small remote in her hand. “If he’s bothering you, press the big red button and we’ll have security set him straight, alright?”

Emma nodded, forcing a smile though she could’ve sworn she felt her brother’s eyes boring a hole into the side of her face. She wiped at her eyes and face again as Sarah slipped through the curtain. Emma let out an exaggerated breath before leaning back into the pillow. “Before you start, I’m really sorry.”

Christian shook his head, dismissing it. “Sarah’s never liked me.”

It wasn’t his sister’s fault the nurse had never taken a shine to him. He didn’t care about that. He could take a little harmless badgering at the woman’s hand. It didn’t hurt and he had no illusions about the fact that he was the least likable Grey sibling.

Christian preferred it that way.

Mostly.

Emma shifted, resting on her side, facing away from him once again. She focused on her breath, pulling her mind away from the pain in her limbs, putting her energy into wishful thinking that the peace of the moment could last, that the distraction of Sarah’s entrance and Christian’s subsequent easy mood could stay until their mother arrived.

Christian cleared his throat and Emma stilled, tension thrumming through her even before he spoke.

“You don’t want me here?”

“I…I just…Can you just wait to be angry with me until we’re home?” Emma winced as she turned over to face him. “If you start yelling here…”

She stopped herself as she caught sight of him staring at her, quiet and unreadable, mulling over her words for far too long. Christian was rarely silent about anything, especially when he was angry and it made her nervous. She’d brought him to a new level and Emma mentally prepared herself for a fight, opting for bargaining before things got too out of hand, hoping she could curb things before they really did need to call security.

Christian pushed out a frustrated breath, his gaze settled across the room for a moment before turning back to her. “You think I’m angry with you?”

“Yyy…yes?” Emma offered with caution. “Because I…crashed…the…car?”

Christian nodded. “And that’s why you didn’t want me to come? That’s what all this is about?”

Emma swallowed. Surely an apology was her best move. An apology and some vague, half-cooked plan to fix it would be a sufficient offering considering she was in a hospital bed. She could pay him back. She could work for free.

“Christian, I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“I’m angry with the asshole who blew through a red light,” Christian said, cutting her off, his words overlapping with Emma’s, and running them clear over until she fell silent. Christian hadn’t even heard her. “And I’m angry with my secretary for not interrupting my meeting so I could be here sooner. And with myself…for letting this happen in the first place.”

Emma opened her mouth to interrupt, but she couldn’t find an entrance.

“But I’m not angry with you,” Christian continued. “Ryan said you were abiding by all traffic laws. Never went more than three miles over the speed limit, no texting. You hit the brakes as soon as you saw the car coming at you.”

“Ryan…?” she asked, none of his words quite making sense, the turn of her conversation making Emma’s head hurt as she grasped onto the only thing her mind could hold, the mention of her cursed security detail. “He was following me?”

Christian raised an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion and concern Sarah had spared her a few minutes before. “You didn’t think you were just driving around by yourself?”

“I—” She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Emma had absolutely thought she was on her own, but Christian’s explanation certainly explained why Ryan was already at the hospital when she woke up. He had been there with her all along. “But your car,” she said, “it’s—”

“My car is replaceable and very well insured,” he said. “You’re not.”

Christian watched her putting things together. He’d seen the expression a number of times while she worked on homework at the kitchen counter.

“I am, though,” she mumbled.

Part of Christian wondered if his sister’s concussion wasn’t more serious than they thought. How could she not realize that her security detail had been there all along? How could she think he’d be angry with her? How could she tell him she’s replaceable?

“Em…”

“I have insurance,” she offered, the slightest of smirks coming to her mouth as Christian rolled his eyes. Maybe she was fine after all.

“I can stay on mom and dad’s until twenty-six.”

“Very clever,” Christian said as he moved toward the chair beside her bed, searching his jacket pocket for his phone. “Maybe you should get some real rest while we wait for our mother?”

Emma didn’t argue. Though she was feeling calmer now, a deep tiredness had settled in the wake of her anxiety, and she wanted nothing more than to rest, her body feeling tired as she faced him in the hospital bed.

Christian watched her for only a moment before slipping his blackberry out of his pocket and beginning to answer emails. How could he get so many after being away from the office for no more than forty-five minutes?

“Christian?”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he murmured as he continued typing out a message to his secretary.

“The car drove nice,” Emma offered anyway. “Really nice.”

Christian snorted, looking up from the device to meet her eye for a moment. “It’s a shame you didn’t take her over the speed limit. Now you’ll never get the chance.”

Emma huffed. “Never?”

Christian’s eyes moved back to the device. “Never.”

Emma sighed, watching him again, waiting for him to finish typing. “Chris?”

He glanced up at her again, eyebrow raised.

“I am sorry.”

Christian set his phone down, frowning. “I know you are,” he said, giving her a nod. “I appreciate that.”

Christian could have fought her again, telling her that she didn’t have anything to apologize for, that he was just grateful she was alright, but for whatever reason, those words weren’t settling. She couldn’t hear them, preoccupied with the broken car, almost detached from the what-ifs that had been gripping Christian since hearing of the accident.

He could replace the car. The fine Nappa leather interior, the thirteen-speaker custom sound system, the V10 engine—those were all things he could reacquire with a mere phone call or an email. Sisters on the other hand…family…that wasn’t something money or status could ever replace.

Life in the Shade (Fifty Shades) Masterlist

#fifty shades of grey #fifty shades #fifty shades of grey fanfic #fifty shades fanfic #christian grey #sister fic #grey!sister #grey sister #emmeline grey #emma grey

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter Eight: Family Dinner (Pranks/Dad Jokes)

AO3

Bruce Wayne was not an emotional man. In fact, his emotional capability had once been compared to that of a teaspoon. He had emotions, obviously, but he didn’t express them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure how to express them. But staring down at the photo album in front of him, it was almost painful having no way to express his emotions. It was the most thoughtful gift he had ever received, and it was one that he would treasure forever. He didn’t have baby pictures of his other children. Dick’s were lost at some point while he was still with Haley’s Circus. Jason’s were lost when he had to live on the street. Tim...well, there were a few pictures of Tim. But they were all highly staged school pictures. And those didn’t start until kindergarten. And Damian….Talia wasn’t ever the type to be sentimental. Which meant there were no baby pictures of him either. But Marinette...her entire life had been catalogued. From sonograms, to her first Christmas and the first competition she won. Everything was laid out in order. Bruce turns back to the start of the book, prepared to close it, when an envelope catches his eye. He wasn’t focused on it when he first opened the book. He glances at Marinette and quirks an eyebrow. She frowns.

“Oh, that. Um, it’s the letter that Bridgette wrote to you. I haven’t actually read it, Maman said she hasn’t either. Your name was on the front and apparently she felt awkward opening a letter not addressed to her even with the situation and-” She stops talking, taking a deep breath before smiling. “Sorry. But, you can read it, if you want. I thought you might want to have it.”

“Thank you, Marinette.” He says, smiling slightly. He tries not to laugh when her face lights up seeing him smile. Note, try and show emotions more around Marinette, he thinks. Sitting back on his chair, he opens the envelope and stares down at the letter he should’ve received fourteen years ago.

Dear Bruce…

---

Marinette lets out a sigh of relief as Mr. Wayne sits to read the letter. Tugging Adrien over to her brothers and plopping down on the loveseat, she smiles.

“So Marinette, I noticed the last time you were here you had a sketchbook. Do you draw a lot?” Dick asks, eyeing the lack of space between her and Adrien. Marinette resists the urge to glare at her brother. Was he seriously plotting some way to get her and Adrien away from each other right now? After Mr. Wayne had invited him? Seriously?

“Well, kinda.” She answers, pulling out her mini sketchbook from her purse. “I actually design clothes. So I draw, but it’s mostly clothes. Sometimes I’ll sketch architecture or flowers or something for inspiration but..” She trails off, tentatively passing her sketchbook to Dick. She watches, bouncing her leg as the awkward silence stretches on while Dick looks at the sketchbook with Tim and Jason glancing over his shoulders. And Cass standing behind the couch was also looking at the sketches. Trying not to feel awkward the longer the silence stretches, Marinette jumps as Tim starts choking on his coffee. He jumps towards her and she yelps, leaping off the loveseat and to the side in order to avoid him.

“What the hell Replacement?” Jason huffs. Tim ignores him, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” He says.

“Language, Master Tim. Dinner is ready.” Alfred says, popping out of nowhere.

“What do you mean it’s me?” Marinette asks, taking her sketchbook back and stuffing it back into her purse.

“You’re MDC!” Tim practically yells, waving his (not empty) coffee cup around, barely missing dumping it on her head.

“Um, yes?” She says, confused at his level of excitement.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Tim asks, turning to Dick and Jason who were trying to get him to follow them to the dining room. Key word being trying.

“Am I supposed to?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Richard Grayson! As a fellow Jagged Stone fan you cannot tell me that you don’t recognize the name of his personal designer!” Tim yells. Dick’s eyes widen in realization, turning to Marinette with a shocked smile.

“Wait, that’s you? Marinette, that’s amazing! I knew your sketches were good, but wow. That’s just- wow!” Dick says, his entire face filled with pride. Marinette laughs awkwardly, her face heating up with all the attention. It was….a lot. But also nice.

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t done an entire tour wardrobe yet, but I’m proud of the pieces that I have done.” She says.

“Terribly sorry, but it might be nice if we moved our conversations to the dining room.” Alfred says, a twinge of amusement clear on his face. Marinette glances over at Mr. Wayne who was still frozen, clutching the letter from her birth mother. She looks at Alfred and raises an eyebrow. He simply shakes his head and motions for her to go on. Sighing, she nods and follows her brothers (and Adrien, who was suddenly in an intense conversation with Tim about Jagged Stone) to the dining room. As they walk into the dining room, Marinette darts around Dick to snag the seat on the other side of Adrien. Tim sitting on one side of Adrien was fine. Adrien stuck between Tim and Dick? Not fine. She gives Dick a look, and he just smiles innocently before walking around and taking the seat across from Adrien. Should’ve seen that one coming. Once everyone is seated (besides Mr. Wayne, who had sent Alfred back in and instructed everyone to start without him) the conversations taper off, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

“Marinette, I have a very serious question for you.” Dick says, his smile telling her that the chances of it actually being a ‘very serious’ question are slim to none.

“Okay, sure.”

“Where do fruits go on vacation?” He asks, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Pear-is!” Marinette just blinks at him. That was almost as bad as-

“Oh my god! That was amazing!” Adrien cheers, laughing so hard he has to set his fork down. Oh god. There’s two of them.

“Really?” Dick asks, his face bright. Oh dear god please no.

“Oh yeah. That joke was pun-derful.” Adrien replies with a snort. Please god. Make it stop.

“I’m glad you think so. Everyone else seems a bit pun-sive.” Dick replies. That’s it. She’d willingly give Hawkmoth her Miraculous if it meant she could leave this dinner and the awful jokes happening. She’d even listen to her Papa’s jokes for an entire hour. As long as she could leave this cursed dinner. The sudden blaring from both her phone and Adrien’s makes her jump, and her eyes widen. Okay, no. She didn’t say the thing about the Miraculous out loud, so she doesn’t actually have to give it up, right? No, it’s fine. Taking it back won’t lead to anything crazy, right?

“Uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Marinette says, jumping up, frowning at Adrien as he jumps up with her.

“Me too!” He says. Marinette frowns. Way to make it obvious, Kitty.

“I’m fine, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” She insists, rushing off to the bathroom before Adrien can argue. She’d figure something out.

---

Dick raises an eyebrow at Adrien’s shocked face.

“Did you need to go to the bathroom? We have more than one bathroom.” He says, worried that maybe the kid’s shocked face wasn’t because of Marinette’s hasty departure and instead because he really needed the bathroom.

“Oh. Um. No, I’m fine. Apparently.” He mutters the last word, dropping down into his seat and staring at his plate. Dick could see the boy’s hands twitching towards his phone like he wanted to check it, but was afraid of being rude. He was about to tell him that it was okay to check his phone when a blue circle of light appeared over the table. An arm covered in red spandex with black spots sticks out of the light (portal) and grabs Adrien by the front of his shirt. Before anyone can stop the arm, Adrien is through the portal. Gone. Well shit.

“Where are Adrien and Marinette?” Bruce asks, walking into the room and frowning at the empty chairs. Well shit!

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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lovesanmotion · 3 years

Text

Light - Jeong Yunho

summary: cool uncle by day but mafia boss at night, jeong yunho is ready for anything; except for falling in love.

tags: @couchpotatoaniki (yes i am tagging you bcs you blossomed this idea to me hihi)

A deep sigh left Yunho's lips, lighting up his cigarette and sticking it between his lips before releasing pearly white smoke. His once neat suit was now covered in sweat, dust and a trickle of blood from earlier events, singlehandedly killing a mafia group from the neighboring city. He lifted his wrist watch and checked the time - 10:01pm. Sandwiched between his middle and index finger, Yunho raises his cigearette stick onto his lips and puffed out a smoke.

His once cool composure broke when around the corner, the slim but curvy figure of his neighbor - y/n y/l/n came into view. She had her head hung low, shoulders drooping down and walking gloomily home. But Yunho stared at her. Around y/n, he felt like a high school boy who has a crush on her. He didn't also missed the fact that it was too late for y/n to go home. Work hours ends at 5-6pm, but 10? Yunho wondered if you took an overtime.

As y/n passed him by, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Feeling his face heating up. Getting up from the bench, he dropped his stick and stepped on it before following you home. With his hands tucked inside his pockets, Yunho wondered why you ever chose to live in a dangerous city like this. Was it because the rent's cheaper? Or to live close to your office?

He stopped his tracks and hid behind a pole, watching you get inside your home building safely. Watching you get home safely is what Yunho's been doing ever since you moved into the area and with a smile on his face, Yunho walks back home.

As the sun sets into the blue sky, Yunho packs up a lot of candies in his pocket before leaving his home and strolling to the neighborhood park. Clad in a bright red and white striped shirt and pants a bright smile on his face, Yunho would never be mistaken as someone who killed a group of guys last night. The cool breeze swept past him, causing his bangs to fly away.

As he found the children playing merrily and happily in the park, his heart swelled with an overwhelming feeling. How he wished these children would grow up into kind and humble adults. When the children saw him coming up to them, a chorus of "uncle Yunho!" greeted him, followed by all of them running up to him for a hug, some even hugging his legs.

Sitting down on the wooden bench, he gave each child a piece of candy and chocolate. Their little smiles upon tasting the fruity and sweet treats brought a smile on his lips too. However, Yunho mentally did a head count on the children.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. One was missing, and the one missing happened to be his favorite. He was about to open his mouth and ask them where y/s/n when a small but cheerful "uncle Yunho!" greeted him from behind. Turning around, his eye's widened.

His neighborhood crush, holding an ice cream cone with one hand and the other holding hands with his favorite child from the playground.

"Mommy this is uncle Yunho! He's the one who always watches us and gives us candy when we play here!" A deep shade of red plastered on Yunho's cheeks. Slowly he turned away and sunk a bit lower on his seat, feeling himself getting shy. But he was a little surprised to know that y/n has a son.

Yunho watched as y/s/n joined the other kids in the slide and on his left side became occupied by you.

"Doesn't it get a little sad when you watch them slowly grow up? One day they are only crying for attention and the next thing you know you walk with them to preschool." Y/N spoke, taking a lick on the vanilla cone.

"Do you have kids at home?" Yunho shook his head. But he would very much like to have one with y/n.

"I'm y/n by the way!" He looked at the hand extended out for him to shake before looking at your smile. Yunho's heart beated loudly inside his chest, not missing the sight of the ice cream on the corner of your lip. He slowly leaned in and raised his hand, wiping the cream away with his thumb.

"Nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Yunho." He smiled at you, seeing that pink tint across your cheeks. Yunho thanked the gods that this might be the chance for him to properly talk to y/n. He turned to his side and striked up a conversation with you, slightly getting distracted with the way how you lick your ice cream.

"Uh..hello? Earth to Yunho?" Yunho snapped out of his trance and shook his head, batting his eyelashes. Yunho stared at you. "What was that again?"

"I was asking you earlier if you wanted to have lunch with me and y/s/n. Think of it as a thank you for watching over my son." Turning his head, he saw the children leave one by one until it was your son left sitting in the swing.

"I-I would love to!" He blurted out, maybe a little too loud. Yunho suddenly backed away, suddenly feeling shy but he only found y/n chuckling at him.

"That was cute. Anyways, let's me show you where I live." As Y/N got up, so did he. He took the pleasure of carrying y/s/n in his arms as he followed you to your place, he had to pretend he didn't know where you lived. How was he going to explain that he has been following you for months already?

"Welcome to our place!" Spoke Y/N in a cheerful tone. The place didn't look half bad. As he sets y/s/n down and removes his shoes by the doorway, he took in the appearance of your place. It isn't big nor small, perfect for two people living, light wooden floors, cream colored walls, yellow and green cupboards and a mini bookshelf thats occupied by books about numbers, letters, alphabets and story books.

"This is a nice place you've got" Yunho says, sitting down on the couch only to be sunk lower as he didn't noticed how the couch was small.

"I guess I was lucky to find this one. More greenery in the province than just seeing buildings in the city." Y/N spoke, Yunho watched her enter the kitchen. He got up and excitedly followed her like a high school boy following his crush around school.

"What are you going to make there?" He asks as he stood behind Y/N making her jump a little. Yunho didn't realized how close he has gotten to her, but he felt like his heart would burst at how small she is close to him.

"Does pasta sound nice?" Y/N tilted her head to the side. If only his mornings were spent this close to y/n, Yunho would be in heaven already.

As Yunho was about to say something, in came little y/s/n holding his school bag.

"Mommy, can you help me with my homework?"

Two heads snapped to look at y/s/n who stood by the doorway of the kitchen.

"Your mom would love to!" Yunho smiled at y/s/n, held y/n by her shoulders and pushed her out of the kitchen despite her many protests against it. Yunho opened the fridge to check what ingredients were available, he grabbed whatever he needed and placed them on the counter and started cooking.

It was only like last night, he was using the very same knife to slice throats and now he's slicing meat with the same knife. But Yunho was only occupied by the merry thought of cooking for his crush.

After half an hour passed, Yunho beautifully plated three pasta bowls on the table. He gave himself a pat in the back for doing an excellent job and was about to call y/n and y/s/n to eat when he heard some talking.

"Mommy do you like uncle Yunho?" A small voice, y/s/n, as Yunho thought. His heart raced upon hearing this kind of conversation. There was a moment of silence, Yunho was fidgeting to know your answer.

"Mommy can uncle Yunho be my dad?" Yunho clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. But there it was again, that silence.

"Let's see, y/s/n. Want to see uncle Yunho if he's done?"

Yunho started to get up from his spot but hit his knee in the process, an inaudible sound came out of his mouth and suddenly the door swung open. Y/N and Y/S/N stared at him with a blank yet confused looks on their faces.

"Uh..lunch is ready!" Yunho smiled and instantly stood up from the ground. As he lead them to the kitchen, he was proud to see their expressions and sat down, paying attention to y/n's reaction before eating.

"So what do you do, Yunho?" Y/N asked while twirling pasta with her fork.

Yunho racked up his brain to think of what should he say. But he choked up in between.

"I'm unemployed at the moment" He says. There was no way he is ever going to tell that he kills people, raids warehouses and factories and regulates drug deals within in and out of the country. "What about you? What do you do for a living?" Yunho gulped the food down his throat before facing you.

"I, uh...I just work at, at a very boring corporate office. They don't pay much."

"Is that why you do overtime and get home late at night?"

"What?"

Yunho stared at y/n wide eyed. That was wrong of him suddenly mentioning it to you. He shook his head and carried on the conversation by changing the topic.

For the whole afternoon, Yunho stayed with Y/N and Y/S/N, watching kids movies while having a snack. Y/S/N falling asleep in the middle of the movie. Yunho took the pleasure of letting y/s/n sleep on his chest, he could get used to being a househusband. With the sun setting, Yunho thought it was best for him to go home. But was stopped by y/n to join them for dinner. On the outside, Yunho thanked you. But on the inside, Yunho was giggling.

He cooked once more in the kitchen, clogging out y/n's protests. Dinner became a happy meal as all three of them became full. While y/n was cleaning up in the kitchen, Yunho asked permission if he could take y/s/n out for a walk, promising he'd be home by 8pm.

Yunho took y/s/n to the convenient store, handing him a whole bar of chocolate in his small hands. But the little boy stared at him.

"But mommy says I can't have too much sweets" the small boy pouted.

"But your mom isn't here right? This'll be our little secret. You and me." Yunho grinned at the small boy who flashed a toothy smile in front of him.

"Uncle Yunho do you like my mommy?"

"Very much." Yunho suddenly stopped as he looked back at the child with him, now grinning at him.

"Okay, that's another secret between us. Don't tell your mommy about that too okay?" The small boy nodded his head quickly, Yunho held his hand and walked back home with him. Unaware of two eyes following them as they head back.

(gif is not mine! credits to the rightful owner!)

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #ateez oneshot #mafia!ateez x y/n #mafia!ateez x reader #mafia!yunho x reader #mafia!yunhoxy/n #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots

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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years

Text

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

#taryn pov #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #the folk of the air #tfota fanfic #jurdan fanfic #taryn duarte #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #the cruel prince #taryn and jude duarte #the duarte sisters #the cruel prince fanfiction #taryn x ghost

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toga-time · 4 years

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Seiji Takami

Okay, so I had this oc / fanon version of the Takami thief in mind that I wanted to share with you, but the canon thief Takami (who is a real piece of shit) was revealed to us before I managed to finish the smaller details. (I’m a bit salty over not having been fast enough to post about him before the leaks / chapter came out, lol. Hawks’ dad is such a dick.)

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve made a few quotes with Hawks and his dad in mind - however, part of me felt hesitant to post them now when the canon version was revealed. People usually let go of a lot of headcanons and fanon characterisations once the canon character is revealed.

But darnit, I had a lot of fun making these and I deserve to have fun creating things sometimes too! So I’ve decided to just go ahead and post about him anyway!

Introduction under the line!

________________________________________________________________

This is Seiji Takami:

Name: Seiji (Just and Lawful) - What an ironic name. Age: 43 - He had Keigo when he was 20. Gender: Male.

Appearance: (+ abilities)

*Seiji is tall and slim, but has more muscles than most would think hiding under his clothing.

*His eyes are intense and golden, with pupils like slits.

*His hair is even more messy than Hawks' is. It's a very dark brown color, looking like a dark crimson when the light hits it right.

*He doesn't have wings on his back, but he grows feathers on his arms which extends and grows long, covering the flesh, until he can use them to fly. - He can't control the feathers like Hawks, but he can sharpen them. - He can make the feathers fall off easily and have them regrow just as quickly. This makes it so that he has a rather big load of sharp weapons at hand.

*He also grows feathers on his legs, up to his waist and he's got small tail festhers as well.

*His fingers are hard and birdlike and he’s got feet that are formed more like a birds’. He's got strong talons on both his hands and feet. - He usually goes barefoot when out on a "job".

Personality:

He is a little shit, not gonna lie, often being sarcastic and rather bold with his words. He loves to talk and can act rather flashy and arrogant at times, tending to antagonize those around him. He especially enjoys taunting his opponents whenever the oppurtunity appears.

While he can be ruthless, he is still caring toward the people closest to him. Even though he grew up focusing on putting himself first at all times, he’d still went out of his way to help the ones he called his friends. he is also very protective of those he truly loves.

Relationships & Story:

His relationship with Keigos’ mom is like that of friends(-ish) with benefits rather than two lovers, having gotten together more out of lust than love. They still got along and kept in touch even after the passion died out somewhat, hooking up from time to time. Then, surprise! Little Keigo was created! While Seiji wasn’t all that excited at first to becoming a parent, he still reached out to help with the pregnancy and to financially support them both. Once he actually got to meet little Keigo, he soon came to adore his little chick with all of his heart.

( ”It had been the first visit since the baby was born and as soon as his eyes fell upon the tiny form in the crib he was speechless. The little creature was just so.. small. Seiji carefully lifted the baby up, feeling fearful of his hands for the first time in years. Once the baby was settled in, he started whining, being disturbed from his nap. And as soon as those eyes opened up to gaze at him, big and golden, Seiji knew he was done for. He started rocking the baby- His son, cooing and chirping softly to him. Delighted when he got few chirps back. He really was done for. Seiji was going to love this person for the rest of his life. He'lldo what it takes to protect him.” )

Seiji kept a distance between himself and his son though, unable to leave his criminal life behind while the mother wanted to try and take on the role of a more lawful citicen. He would send them money and sometimes drop by to bring Keigo a gift. However, the visits became far in between. Eventually, Seiji got captured during a robbery (”- by Endeavor no less. He knew Keigo liked that plushie of him. His son always carries it around and hugging it close when sleeping. Man.. why couldn't it be any other hero?”) and he was locked away for several years.

( - During this time, Keigos’ mom fell ill. Keigo would do his best to care for her, working around the house and offering to help his neighboors with chores in exchange for some money or a bit of food. While going to the store, the car accident happens that has Keigo use his feathers to save the people involved. Which leads to the HPSC seeking him out, offering to support Keigo and his mom, giving her the medical care she needs. That alone had Keigo agree imidately. His mom on the other hand was hesitant until the agents promised her that they would make sure Keigo was taken care of and would get a good education. She finally gave in. - )

When Seiji got out, he went to see his girlfriend and son, only to discover that they’ve moved away from their previous home. He was disappointed, but not necessarily surprised.

Considering what to do next, he wandered through the city, only to look up and see the gigantic image of an upcoming Hero: A young man with golden eyes and big, bright red wings on his back.

What the actual hell?

( It would not be easy for him to reunite with his son - mostly due to him not finding the right oppurtunity to make the move and approach him, but eventually, once Hawks joined hands with the League of Villains, Seiji saw his chance and swooped in to finally make the attempt to conect with him again. )

________________________________________________________________

And there you have it!

Now, Seiji is the version I’m mostly going to refer to whenever I make a post with incorrect Takami Family quotes.

I will do my best to make things clear in the post of course, but to make things easier, here’s how I’m going to tag things:

When I use Seiji I will tag the post with bnha oc, seiji takami. Maybe even fanon takami thief at times

When I use / refer to the canon version of Hawks’ dad, I will use bnha takami, takami thief, like most others do.

#bnha #bnha oc #bnha takami thief #bnha seiji #seiji takami #fanon takami thief #bnha au #bnha hawks #keigo takami #takami thief #thief takami #mha #mha hawks #mha au #mha oc #incorrect quotes

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laketaj24 · 4 years

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Ransom: Sigtrygrr

Author’s Note: Backkk to the Last Kingdom writing! I love Sigtrygrr, if you haven’t watched season four this doesn’t have any spoilers, but it just shows a new character that is on the Show! My taglist and requests are open! Happy Sunday and Happy reading!

Requested: Could you write a Sigtryggr imagine where the reader is the chieftain's daughter, and sig kidnaps her for ransom. The reader stays in Sigtrygrr's tent for the night, where she tries to kill him in his sleep. But he wakes up and is unnervingly calm about it, and the two have some sort of chemistry. It could be smutty if you like.

Warnings: None, first part of three part series. Sooooo more to come.

Pairing: Sigtrygrr X Reader

The Last Kingdom Masterlist

“If she screams, cut out her tongue. No one is to touch her.” The wild-haired man had a mild voice. It was unsettling. He glanced over at you and smiled. The pristine look of innocence touched his eyes before he gave you a small nod and turned out of the tent. “I will return within the hour.”

It had been a day since the men had stormed your father’s hall and took whatever gold and silver they could get their hands on and then you. It was easier to kidnap and raid when the men were off fighting somewhere, cowards. You sat in the corner eyeing the place for weapons; like most Danes, there was bound to be one lying around here. Nothing. You pushed aside the furs searching for anything, and finally, a small dagger fell onto the floor. Quickly you tucked the leather holster into your shirt. They’d already searched you, the chances of it happening again were slim.

Minutes faded into hours, or at least it felt like once your eyes started to grow weary. You closed your eyes and covered yourself in blankets, and slept sitting up, prepared for whatever they may try.

“Let me see the little bastard.” The slurred voice from outside of the tent boomed.

And now it started, the drunken state of men was sure to make your life a miserable hell, but you didn’t hide, you welcomed the intruder. You’d cut his tongue out and throw it in the face of that asshole who’d threatened you earlier. The tent opened, and the cool breeze brushed in.

“Lie down, you whore.” His face was disgruntled, brow furrowed and eyes glassed over. “Or squirm if you like… I like my women to have some fight in them.” The barrage of chuckles from outside the tent only made your heart beat harder. His belt fell to the floor, and the wool pants he wore started to slip. There he was almost naked from the waist down, and you had no fear. You’d just kill the asshole, and if he took your life, then the valkyries were sure to lead you to the gates of Valhalla.

“Do not touch me. I am Magnusdottir.” He stepped towards you, and you just watched, waited for him to make his move.

“Shut up.” He laughed.

He moved closer to you, and the smell of ale and woods hit your nose. Your stomach riled. You clutched the thick string of the necklace around your throat, Thor’s hammer Mjollnir was given to you by your father when you were younger. He claimed it was carved by Ragnar Lothbrok, it was there for protection. “Allfather,” You whispered. “Give me the strength.”

The spatter of blood hit your face before the drunken man fell back, gurgling his blood. “My instructions were simple.”

“Sigtryggr.” He growled, rolling to his side, cupping the blood that dripped from his mouth. He stood on wavering legs.

“Get some sleep.” Sigtrygrr pulled the chair close to you and took his seat. “Now, Leidolf.”

Leidolf left staggering, and you looked up to your captor. “I am not afraid of you.”

“Of course you are,” He chuckled, poured water into the curved horn, and handed it to you. “Drink.”

You didn’t deny the water, your throat ached from all the screaming earlier in the day. The cool water hit the back of your throat, and you breathed deep before gulping down more. Then your stomach rumbled, you hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

“You can eat after we talk.” He crossed his legs. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do not.”

“I am Sigtrygrr.” Sigtrygrr placed his large hands on his chest.

“Spare me the introductions.” Upon hearing his name, you knew him, and you knew all about his glorious victories on the battlefield. Sigtrygrr was young and revered throughout Irland and Denmark. But in England he was a no one. He had to make his mark here. This was why he had taken you, a first step into establishing who he was while gaining a stronger following. You were a chest piece.

“And you are Y/N, daughter of the richest and without a doubt the most traitorous man of our people.”

“My father is not treacherous.” He did not interrupt you, he just stared attentively as you continued to talk. “My father has fought in his battles! He wants what is best for his family.”

Nothing. Sigtrygrr smiled, and the silence filled the room. “What do you want for me?” The silence in the closed area made it easy for him to hear the protests of your empty stomach.

“I want nothing from you; I only wish to broker a trader with your father.” He clapped his hands. “Leidolf, bring her some food. Her stomach continues to talk louder in this conversation than either of us.”

You scoffed. “I’d rather eat at home.”

“Or you can starve?”

“Fine.”

He took the plate from Liedolf and handed it to you. And you scarfed down the food, satisfied with the portions that he gave you. “Tell me about North Umbria?”

“I know nothing of it.”

“Your father conquered more than half of its lands. I know you know of it.” He perched back in the chair, raising the front legs from the ground. “I like conversing, so if you were honest with me, this would flow better.”

“It seems that you know more than enough.”

“Fine, we don’t have to talk. Sleep.” In a fluid motion, he took the plate and tossed it outside. “Tomorrow, your father is likely to arrive, and then we can decide which limb to toss to him.” He smiled and laid back on the pallet of blankets. “Sleep well.”

It didn’t take much time for Sigtrygrr to find sleep, the soft snores came from him within an hour. The darkness had swept over the camp. From the shadows, you could see the two guards at the entrance. Sigtrygrr was trusting or dumb. The sword at the side of the bed could easily be used to impale him while he slept. You cared less if he was polite or not, you wanted to return home.

Climbing onto the pallet, you moved stealthily, avoiding contact with him until you were over him with the steel of the dagger pressed to the nape of his neck. His eyes opened, not shocked, frightened, or even nervous. His eyes appeared welcoming. “This knife belonged to my father.” He whispered. “With it, he cut the eyes out of 100 Saxons and fed them to the ravens.” Sigtrygrr cleared his throat. “He said their eyes were not worthy of him, arrogant and confident he returned the heads to King Ecbert… and screamed at his gates for a worthy adversary.”

“I prefer not to hear the old tales of your father.”

“Well,” He easily pushed your hand from his neck. “If you were to kill me… I’d be disappointed you chose this dagger to do it. I am a worthy adversary of your father… this death would be unfair.” He said with a smirk. He reached for the weighted sword and handed it to you. “Here you are.”

It wasn’t fair; even with no weapon, Sigtrygrr had found a way to win a quarrel. You tossed the sword to the ground. “I do not think you honorable.”

“Good, that surely was not my intention.”

“Why are you doing this? Ambition, fame? Neither is worth it.”

“A man with no ambition hasn’t a right to be called a man at all. Now, if you’re antics are of Magnusdottir. I’d like to sleep.”

Even in the darkness, you could see the grin on his face. The youthfulness of Sigtrygrr was only in looks, his intellect gave him years of advantages you’d never seen.

Tags: @ceridwenofwales @whenimaunicorn @titty-teetee @supernaturalvikingwhore @geekandbooknerd @captstefanbrandt @pokeasleepingsmaug @carlya65 @therealcalicali @sparklemichele @earthsmightiestasses @stardustnthings @dangerousvikings @greennightspider @awesomerextyphoon @allonesharingonebreath @rabeccablake @savismith @kittybites-94 @naaladareia @umnoyeahno @riottkatt @ariellostatci @funmadnessandbadassvikings @marvelousthronewars @thevikingsheaux @prettythingsworld @miahelizaaabeth

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #sigtrygrr ivarsson #sigtryggr #sigtrygrr x reader #sigtrygrr x y/n #sigtrygrr x you #lets be danes #laketa j writes

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 26: Jon

When Jon’s grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, not long after his twenty-fourth birthday, he quickly discovered that her life insurance and savings weren’t enough to cover all the bills that needed to be covered and put the house he’d grown up in on the market. He only vaguely remembers the whole procedure, as he was in something of a state of shock at the time, but he does remember accepting the first offer presented to him despite the realtor’s comments that he could “probably hold out for a bit more” if he wanted. Thus, he’s the only one not really startled at the speed with which he, Martin, and Tim find out that they’ve got the house.

To be clear: He’s not startled at the speed. He is, however, startled that they got it. Surely someone must have been willing to pay more for it, been better qualified. But no. They learn their offer has been accepted less than a week after the Primes’ disastrous encounter with Basira’s partner and the closing is scheduled for the following Friday. Martin theorizes that their position at the Magnus Institute gave them some extra clout. Tim jokes that it’s his charismatic personality. Jon frets that Elias might have had something to do with it for nefarious purposes.

Sasha finally does some research and tells them that it’s being sold by a pair of siblings barely out of their teens whose parents died unexpectedly and probably just need the money fast.

Martin doesn’t have much, just the little he managed to bring with him to the Institute when first escaping Jane Prentiss and the few things he’s re-acquired since then, and Jon’s things are still packed up from when he declined to renew the lease on his flat in August, so it’s mostly just Tim who needs to decide what he’s keeping and what he’s ready to part with or needs to replace. It takes them the better part of two Saturdays, but they manage to get everything boxed and sorted in time to move out the last full weekend of September.

The moving-in process is surprisingly fun. Sasha and the Primes even come to help (Tim suggests the latter so that Martin Prime knows his way around the house from the get-go, which is actually really sensible) and they make a party of it. Tim insists on setting up the sound system first, then gets everyone to contribute a certain number of songs to a playlist on some app he has on his phone. He puts it on shuffle and lets it play while they work together on the various rooms.

“Oh, my God,” Sasha moans after the eighth song that she evidently didn’t pick comes on. “Do any of you listen to a single band that’s put out an album since 1984?”

“Yes,” Martin says indignantly, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Remasters don’t count.”

Martin Prime grins. “None of mine have come up, either.”

“What did you put on?” Sasha asks suspiciously.

She gets her answer a few minutes later when, after shuffle coughs up a Spice Girls song they all tease her mercilessly about, an honest to God sea shanty comes on. Tim and Jon laugh at Sasha’s dramatic, despairing groan, but it’s hard not to respond to the Martins’ enthusiasm as they—surprisingly—harmonize along with the recording while they set up the living room.

They’re almost done assembling the new bed Tim bullied Jon into buying (“You’re not in uni anymore, you don’t need to be sleeping on a futon, and anyway, when was this made, the Thatcher premiership?” “Brown, and shut up, Tim.”), which is the last piece of furniture they need to put together, when there’s a sound from the front door—two firm, solid knocks, audible all the way upstairs. Jon nearly drops the screwdriver as his heart kicks against his ribs. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, but two knocks like that always makes him think of that book.

Tim makes a noise in the back of his throat. “God, hope the music isn’t too loud.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Martin says, but he sounds uncertain. “I-I mean, it’s been ages.”

Jon pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll check.”

He hurries out of the bedroom before anyone can comment on the clear break in his voice. He is, and there is no way to deny it to himself, legitimately afraid of what might be outside. The likelihood of it being a being of another entity is slim, but…well, there was Mr. Spider, and Jane Prentiss knocked on Martin’s door more than a few times to keep him off-balance, so there’s always the chance. It’s something he feels he can deal with, though, so he heads out to face it.

He does not, however, expect to open the door and be faced with what is either a small child or a casserole dish with tennis shoes.

“Hello,” a tiny voice says brightly from behind the dish. There’s a bit of shifting, and then two big brown eyes and a mass of curls appear over the rim. “I’ve brought you a cake.”

Jon will deny to his dying day that those words freeze his blood in his veins and make his heart stutter to a stop, but since this might actually be his dying day, he’ll be lying if he tries. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

“And a casserole, too,” the child continues, completely oblivious to Jon’s unwarranted panic attack. “That’s not as much fun, though, but Nan says it’s important to eat good, hearty food when you’ve been doing lots of work and that cake shouldn’t be a whole meal. I think there’s no point in being a grown-up if you can’t eat whatever you want, but…” The child heaves an enormous, dramatic sigh that seems too large for such a small body. “My Nan’s very, very old, and you don’t get to be old if you don’t do something right, so she must know what she’s talking about. Anyway, we made the casserole with lots and lots of cheese and she said that was okay, so at least it’s a little better.”

“Ah—thank you?” Jon manages. “H-here, let me…take that.”

He manages to extract the casserole dish, which certainly feels as if it’s laden with cheese; it weighs the proverbial ton. Quite possibly a literal one. It’s solid enough to anchor Jon to reality, though, and he studies his benefactor. The child can’t be more than seven or eight, at the most, with a round face and limbs hidden in an oversized, threadbare sweater that looks like it’s been handed down through more than a few generations. Dangling from one arm is a wicker basket that does indeed appear to contain a cake.

“It’s a chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting,” the child says. “I tried to write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ on it, but I didn’t put the tip on the piping bag right and it came off, so now it’s just a mess, but it’ll taste just as good, I promise. My Nan makes the best cakes.”

Jon smiles in spite of himself. “I don’t think I have enough hands to take it from you now. Would you mind bringing it into the kitchen for me?”

“Oh, sure!” The child practically hops over the threshold. “I always wanted to see what this house was like on the inside. Tibby used to babysit for me sometimes, but she always came over to our house, never me coming over here. Nan says it’s better that way, and Tibby always said it was laid out exactly like all the other houses, but it’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. Firsthand knowledge is best, that’s what I think. What do you think?”

“I—I think I agree with you,” Jon says. He also feels a bit like he’s staring at his younger self. “I assume you live in one of the other houses on the row?”

“Two doors down,” the child agrees cheerfully. “With the window boxes. My Nan likes to garden a bit, but she can’t bend over so much anymore, so Toby set up the window boxes for her a couple years ago.”

“And, uh, who is…Toby?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew. Toby McGill. He and Tibby—that’s his sister Tabitha, but everyone calls her Tibby—they were the ones selling this house after their parents died. He’s at Surrey University now and he says he’s going to stay out there when it’s all said and done, and Tibby got a job on a boat.” The child sounds deeply impressed. “I want to be a sailor someday, too. Can you imagine getting to see the whole wide world by water and getting paid for it, too? I’d never want to leave. I told Tibby she has to save a spot on the crew for me and she laughed and promised, so I can’t wait. I’m going as soon as I grow up. I’m not going to university. You don’t need to go to university for everything, you know. I know Nan really wants me to go ‘cause Mum didn’t and neither did Dad and she doesn’t want me turning out like them, but you can turn out well even if you don’t go to university, can’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Jon says gravely. He casts an involuntary glance in the direction of the stairs, thinking of Martin. “One of my housemates didn’t go to university, and he’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”

“How many of you live here, anyway?”

“Just three of us.” Jon has no idea how much this child has seen and how many people he knows are in the house at the moment.

“Oh. There used to be three of us in my house, too.” The child scuffs a toe against the carpet just before they step into the kitchen. “And then there was going to be four, but Mum died and the baby did, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says softly, feeling a pang. “I grew up with my grandmother, too.”

The child looks up at Jon and smiles, in such a way that Jon can’t help but smile back. “And you turned out okay.”

“Debatable,” Jon says. He sets the casserole dish on the counter. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jonathan Sims.”

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Cane.” The child smiles up at him and hands over the basket. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Tell your grandmother we said thank you. I don’t know that any of us will have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll bring back the dishes tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. Nan doesn’t go anywhere.” Charlie flashes Jon a grin that’s missing two teeth, then turns and waves to the doorway. Jon glances up to see Martin, looking somewhere between worried and amused. “Hi! I’m Charlie Cane. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you live here, too?”

“Um…yes. I’m Martin Blackwood. It’s…nice to meet you?” Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon.

“Charlie and his grandmother made us a casserole,” Jon says, gesturing at the counter. “And a cake.”

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Martin smiles at Charlie and winks, although Jon doesn’t quite understand why.

“Welcome.” Charlie’s beaming smile could probably light the house for a week. “I’d best go before Nan thinks I’m doing something stupid again. See you later!”

He’s out the front door before Jon can respond, or even blink. He looks back to Martin, who isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Jon. We were just wondering if you were okay. You were gone for a while.”

Jon gestures vaguely at the front door. “I don’t think that child has many people to talk to. Or at least not many people who will listen to him.”

Martin snorts. “I think you’ve got yourself a new best friend.”

Jon almost wants to say something flippant like Just what I need, but thinking on it, he actually doesn’t mind all that much. “Considering how much I would have given to have an adult pay that kind of attention to me when I was his age, I think I can handle that.”

Martin reaches over and pulls Jon into a hug. Jon lets himself be comforted for a moment, then extricates himself gently and smiles. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready to eat.”

As it turns out, the others finished putting together the bed and even made it while Jon talked to Charlie, so they’re all too happy to come into the kitchen for a hearty meal. It’s exactly as cheese-laden as Charlie promised. Jon recounts his conversation, to general amusement, although something flickers briefly across Martin Prime’s face and Jon Prime shoots Jon an understanding and slightly frightened look when he repeats Charlie’s opening words. If anyone else notices, they give no sign of it.

Tim lets the music keep playing while they eat. Jon mostly tunes it out, no pun intended, and he rather suspects the others do too. But just as they’re scraping their plates clean—the food is delicious, and Tim declares he’s going to try and charm Charlie’s grandmother out of the recipe—Martin Prime suddenly tilts his head to one side, as if trying to catch a sound. A smile twitches at his lips, and he stands up and holds out a hand to Jon Prime. “May I?”

Jon Prime looks startled for a split-second, then smiles—no, grins—and places his hand in Martin Prime’s. He lets Martin Prime pull him away from the table and into his arms, and the two of them start slow-dancing.

Jon pauses, fork suspended over his plate, and watches them. Jon Prime lets Martin Prime lead him in a simple box step, one arm draped casually over Martin Prime’s shoulder, while Martin Prime’s hand rests firmly at his waist; their other fingers are laced together in a way that would make it difficult to telegraph intended moves if they didn’t—probably—know each other so well. The space between them is so little it’s a wonder they don’t constantly trip over each other’s feet, and before long their foreheads touch. The song is gentle and plaintive, encouragement from one partner to the other to trust and relax and allow the first to take care of the second, a promise that the second person won’t be considered weak or lesser if they allow themselves to be comforted.

I promise you’ll be safe here in my arms…

Martin Prime lifts his arm and spins Jon Prime around gently, and when Jon Prime comes back into the closed frame, he leans his head against the shoulder where his hand isn’t resting and closes his eyes. Martin Prime pulls him closer and rests his cheek alongside Jon Prime’s as they continue dancing. It’s one of the most intimate and romantic things Jon has ever seen, and he almost has to look away from it.

Almost. Not quite. Something keeps him drawn, and there’s a tiny part of Jon’s brain that suggests it probably isn’t just the pleasure at seeing someone who’s basically him safe and happy and in love mixed with the vague sense of longing for something like that—maybe not that exactly, but something like it. It may also be that watching the Primes slow dancing means he doesn’t have to look at anyone else.

The song plays itself out. Martin Prime turns his head slightly; Jon Prime turns his at the same time, and their lips meet gently in the middle. This time Jon does look away. He’s never quite been able to figure out how he feels about kissing, to be honest; it’s one of the things that sent his and Georgie’s relationship down in flames, was the fact that he always acted like you think I’ve got poison in my lip gloss, according to her. But he finds himself wondering for a moment what Martin’s lips would feel like against his, if they’d be as soft and warm as the rest of him. If it might make a difference to kiss Martin instead of Georgie, or Meredith, or Kelly. And that’s not a question he’s comfortable asking himself just then, let alone trying to answer.

The scrape of a chair breaks his attention, and he looks up to see the Primes sitting down like nothing happened, although they’re still holding hands. Tim clears his throat. “Who wants cake?”

The cake is, as promised, a bit of a mess—it looks like someone tried to tease out the blob created by the icing tip popping off with a toothpick or something, but the resultant design looks like the pictures someone showed Jon once of a web woven by a spider that had been fed caffeine, and the fact that the icing is bright red doesn’t help—but it is absolutely delicious.

Afterward, Tim and Jon store the leftovers while Martin and Sasha start on the dishes. Jon Prime glances at the kitchen clock and touches Martin Prime on the shoulder. “We should probably go. The later it gets, the more likely that…someone might cruise by the Institute, and I’d rather not risk that.”

Martin Prime squeezes Jon Prime’s hand gently, and Jon swallows on the sudden surge of nausea. They haven’t seen anything of Detective Tonner, and Basira didn’t say anything about her when she showed up last week to switch out the tapes, but the memory of the Primes’ faces when they stumbled back to Tim’s place to change and return his car is a hard one to shake. Even though Jon Prime swears he and Daisy eventually became friends, it’s the eventually that sticks out, and Jon isn’t sure what he’ll do if Daisy turns up at the Institute. It’s also obvious that the Primes are more afraid of her than they’re letting on.

Tim opens his mouth, probably to invite them to spend the night or something, but Sasha beats him to it. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’d rather not walk to the tube station by myself, if it comes to that, and I think you said there’s an entrance to the tunnels near there.”

Jon Prime frowns slightly. “I…don’t think I did, but there is.”

“We’ll walk with you, Sasha,” Martin Prime assures her.

Tim sighs theatrically. “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”

“Your objection is duly noted.” Sasha hands Martin a plate to dry.

All too soon, everything is cleaned up, just as the playlist comes to an end, and there’s really no way of stalling them further. There’s a round of hugs and see-you-Mondays, and then Sasha and the Primes head out the door, leaving Jon, Martin, and Tim alone in their new house.

It’s not that late, comparatively, so Jon suggests a card game. They’ve played most nights since Sasha went back to sleeping in her own flat; they’ve played a couple of games of Rummy or Go Fish, and Tim once tried to teach Jon and Martin a game he learned from his grandparents that uses a forty-card deck (Martin picked it up quickly, Jon did not), but most of the time they play Crazy Eights. Tim declares that they’re going to keep playing until either he or Jon or both manage to overtake Martin’s score, which is clearly going to be an impossible task, as he’s up by nearly a thousand points and consistently wins at least three or four games a night. Still, they give it a valiant effort. After Martin manages to go out while both Tim and Jon still have an eight each in their hand, though, they decide to call it quits for one night.

“Someday I’ll figure out how you keep doing that,” Jon says, shuffling the deck lightly before putting it back in the box.

Martin shrugs. “Practice, I guess? I used to play with my granddad a lot when I was younger. We kept a running total, too, and I think I was up three thousand points or so when he died.”

Tim gives a low whistle. “How old were you?”

“Nine. We’d been playing pretty regularly since I was five. At least one game every time I went to visit.”

Jon thinks back to the conversation he and Martin had in Tim’s kitchen the morning after Prentiss’s attack. “Is this the grandfather who had the cherry trees?”

“You remembered.” Martin looks pleased. “Yeah, he was my mum’s dad. I never met my dad’s family, that I remember anyway.” He pauses. “You, uh, you told Charlie you were raised by your grandmother. Was that…?”

Jon didn’t know Martin was there, but he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to figure out how to bring it up. “My father’s mother. She was…formidable. My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died a couple years later. Surgery complications.”

“I’m sorry,” Martin says softly. “That must have been hard on you.”

“Harder on my grandmother, I think. I was barely old enough to remember them.” All Jon remembers of his father is his laugh, and he’s fairly certain that most of his memories of his mother come from his aunt.

Tim leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Is she still around? Your grandmother?”

Jon shakes his head. “She died just before I started working at the Institute. What about yours, Tim?”

“My dad’s dad is the only grandparent still around. I think.” Tim worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I’d like to think someone would call me if something happened, but I don’t know.”

Martin hums sympathetically. “Is he…in a home?”

“Not as far as I know. Last I heard, he was still living with my parents. Moved in when Granny died, just after I left for university.” Tim sighs. “We’re not…close. After Danny…”

Jon reaches over and touches Tim’s arm gently. “It must be hard on them, losing a son. No parent expects to outlive their child.”

“That’s just it. Mum refuses to believe he’s dead.” Tim smiles weakly. “No body, you know? Dad isn’t sure, but he also thinks I know more than I’ve told them. Grandfather all but accused me of having a hand in Danny’s disappearance.”

“What?” Jon blinks, shocked. “How could anyone think you’d—you would never.”

“I know, but…well, Dad’s family was always a bit conservative, blue collar and all that, and I’m…well, me. I think that’s why Dad encouraged my hiking and camping and all that. Hoped it would knock some ‘sense’ into me,” Tim says with a wry twist of his lips. “Once I came out as bi, though, I think they decided there was no hope left for me. It just got worse after Danny died.”

Martin’s expressive face closes down, and Jon’s stomach lurches. This is the most they’ve talked about their families in…ever, he thinks, but from the little bits of information Martin—and Martin Prime, for that matter—have let slip, Jon has formed a very unfavorable impression of Martin’s mother. He’s always kind of had a hazy idea that Tim’s family situation was better, especially after he heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Danny when giving his statement, and finding out that it wasn’t much better than theirs…

“How old were you?” he asks, not sure why. “When you—told them.”

“Seventeen. There was a guy I’d been seeing—nothing serious, really, but we had fun together—and we went out for Valentine’s Day. My parents were confused because they knew my girlfriend and I had just broken up before Christmas and I hadn’t mentioned another girl, so I told them about Steve.” Tim gets quiet for a second. “Mum cried. Dad just…told me to stop upsetting my mother and never brought it up again. Not until Grandfather started in on me.”

Jon swallows. “You’ve a great deal more courage than I have. I—I never admitted to my grandmother that I ever had any interest in boys, let alone dated one.”

“Only one? You’re missing out.” Tim’s grin is a pale echo of his usual one, but it is at least genuine. “How ‘bout you, Martin?”

“A few.” Martin relaxes with a visible effort that makes Jon’s heart ache. “Been out since I was fourteen. Mum reacted…about as well as she reacted any other time I told her something she didn’t like or did something she wasn’t expecting. I never brought anyone home to meet her or…really talked to her about my dating, and she only ever brought it up in relation to herself. Like saying it was a good thing there wasn’t any risk of me passing on any of my numerous undesirable traits to a helpless child.”

“I don’t think your mum understands what ‘bisexual’ means,” Tim points out.

“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m gay.” Martin grimaces. “I’m also ace, so no risk there anyway, but…”

Jon wants to say any child would be fortunate to count you as a father or I can’t think of a single undesirable trait about you, but what actually comes out is, “Ace?”

“Uh, asexual. It’s—I don’t…get attracted like that. Romance, sure, aesthetic stuff and all that, but not…” Martin gestures vaguely. “Tried it anyway, for a couple of guys I was with, but i-it didn’t go well.”

Jon’s world view shifts abruptly on its axis. Tim, though, looks suddenly worried. “Are you okay? They didn’t—”

“No, no,” Martin says quickly. “It wasn’t—I just don’t like it. That’s all.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Never bothered telling Mum that part. She wouldn’t…I’ve done enough damage.”

Tim pulls Martin into a quick one-armed hug, and Jon reaches across the table to squeeze his hand as gently as he can, but they change the subject after that.

They end up sitting up for a while in their new living room, relaxing. Tim props his feet up in the recliner and works on a crossword; Jon curls up at one end of the sofa with a book he’s been meaning to read for years that Jon Prime assures him he’ll love; Martin sits at the other end and knits. It about bowled Jon over completely when he learned that Martin made most of the sweaters he wears, but the sight and sound of him working away has become increasingly familiar in the last few weeks, especially after the Primes and the rest of the crew collaborated to get him an array of needles and knitting wool in all colors of the rainbow for his birthday. Jon usually finds the gentle clicking of the needles soothing, but tonight it’s just a hair distracting, and he keeps glancing up from the page to watch Martin’s fingers as they expertly manipulate the yarn or Tim tap the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully against his jaw while he contemplates an answer. He’s not even quite sure what he’s looking at.

Finally, Tim lays down his puzzle with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, sounding oddly reluctant. “Long day and all that.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” Martin works a couple more stitches and folds up his project. “Probably a good stopping place for tonight.”

Jon considers saying he’s going to stay in the living room and finish the chapter he’s on, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s been on the same page for however long it’s been and hasn’t taken in a single word. Silently, he slides the scrap of paper he’s currently using as a bookmark back between the pages and closes the book. “Well. Good night, then.”

“’Night, Jon.”

The bedrooms are all upstairs, two on one side and one on the other with the bathroom handy, and the three of them wish each other goodnight again before disappearing into their rooms. Jon closes the door and looks around the room, his room.

There’s not much to it, to be honest. A nightstand, a dresser, a battered desk he’s had since he was a child, a lamp and the bed. He sets the book on top of the desk and changes into his comfortable sleep clothes, then crawls into the bed and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.

It’s…odd. No, not odd. Jon can’t quite think of the right word for it. But the sheets feel unfamiliar against his skin, and they don’t smell right, either, probably because they’re new. The mattress that felt perfectly comfortable when he tested it out in the store doesn’t seem to afford the same comfort now, and he wonders if the floor model has simply had much of the stiffness tested out of it over time. Even the pillows, which he did retain from his old bedroom setup, seem determined to thwart his attempts to find a comfortable position.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, arm draped over his midsection. He won’t fall asleep like this, he’s always been a side-sleeper, but his mind is a seething roil of emotions and he needs to get his thoughts under control before he can even have a hope of getting comfortable enough to sleep, he guesses.

Asexual. Jon probes at the word, at what it describes. I don’t get attracted like that. I just don’t like it. Honestly, until meeting Georgie, Jon had no idea that sort of attraction really existed; he thought it was just something out of the lurid romance novels his grandmother favored and he’d read once or twice in sheer desperation. It was something she’d wanted, though, so he’d tried a few times, but his efforts hadn’t satisfied her and he never really saw what all the fuss was about. He can take it or leave it, preferably the latter.

He never knew there was a word for it.

Suddenly, he wants to talk to Martin about it, about how he realized, how he knew. Where he found the word. If there are many more like—well, like them, he supposes. If that’s one of the reasons he was reluctant to tell Jon how he felt. He wants to ask about Martin’s experiences, if they were bad just because his body didn’t want them or for some other reason. A part of him also wants to cry from sheer relief. He isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with him. Well, not in that respect, anyway.

He sighs heavily and rolls onto his side again, plumping the pillows and curling one arm around them. They’re too flat, he thinks idly, too soft and yielding. Which is odd, because that’s never bothered him before. He can’t seem to get warm, either, which is also bizarre because it’s been an unusually mild day for late September and he’s under the duvet he’s had for years, which suddenly seems too light and insubstantial. The room is too quiet and still. It all feels…wrong, somehow.

Jon closes his eyes and stubbornly tries to force sleep, to no avail. The sense of wrongness pervades his being, curling through him and keeping him tethered to consciousness. He runs through the list of problems he seems to be having and tries to come up with which one might be keeping him awake. The only thing he can think of is the unfamiliar mattress. Everything else is exactly the way it was in his old flat.

And when was the last time you slept there? The thought hits him all of a sudden, and his eyes snap open. He forgot. The last time he slept in his apartment was the night before Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute. Ever since then, he’s been sleeping in Tim’s living room…or in Tim’s bed. With the others.

That’s all it is. He isn’t used to the silence of being alone. He’s not used to not knowing, right away, exactly where Tim and Martin are and if they’re safe. He’ll just go and check on them, see that they’re safe, and he’ll be able to get to sleep just fine.

He throws back the covers, slides his glasses back on, and heads into the hallway. Jon somehow ended up in the room by the bathroom, while Tim and Martin are on the other side of the hallway. Martin’s room is first, though, so Jon heads there. He’s as careful as he can be. Martin is probably asleep by now. He definitely seemed tired while they were still in the living room, and Jon wonders if he lingered because the other two were still sitting down there. It makes him feel slightly guilty, like he should have called it a night earlier so Martin can get some sleep. And after all, they did have a very emotionally draining conversation, which probably exhausted him as well. All that runs through Jon’s mind as he slowly, slowly eases the door open and peers around it to see into Martin’s room.

It’s sparsely furnished; nothing but a bed and one of those flimsy pop-up cloth jobs bisected into cubes, which is serving as his dresser. Martin’s laptop and phone sit on the floor, both connected to their chargers. The bed is mussed slightly and shows signs of having been occupied, but Jon’s heart rate accelerates when he looks at it. It’s empty.

There’s no sign of a struggle, he tells himself, and he heard nothing, so surely everything is fine. Martin’s probably just in the bathroom, or downstairs getting a glass of water or something. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Jon will just…go check on Tim and Tim will be fine and then he’ll go find Martin and make sure he’s fine and it…will…be…fine. He pulls the door closed and turns to Tim’s room.

The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a faint glow coming from the room. Jon hesitates, then taps lightly on the door three times before easing it open. Tim is sitting up on the bed, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly. And—Jon’s shoulders slump in relief—Martin is there, too, on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other tucked underneath him. They’re talking quietly, but both obviously exhausted. They look up at the sound of the door opening and watch Jon stand in the doorway. He opens his mouth, then realizes he doesn’t know what to say and closes it again.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Martin asks gently. The circles under his eyes are almost black.

“No,” Jon admits. “I—I just wanted to—” He breaks off, still not sure what to say.

Wordlessly, Tim holds out a hand. Jon lets the bedroom door shut behind him as he comes forward and takes it. Martin wraps an arm around him from behind, and the two of them pull Jon onto the bed and into a lying-down position. Tim rolls over and snaps off the lamp by his bed, then pulls the covers up over all three of them. Jon manages to reach down and snag the middle to help.

“Better,” Tim murmurs.

It’s not a question, but Jon hums in agreement anyway. Trying for levity, he says, “Shame to waste money on new beds, though.”

“We’ll be able to sleep there eventually,” Martin says. Jon only realizes how much stress was in his voice when it’s drastically lessened. “At some point we’ll probably want the space. But for now, there’s this.”

“For now, there’s this,” Jon agrees. He tilts his head back briefly to rest it against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin scoots in closer.

Tim does, too, the two of them sandwiching Jon securely between them. “Get some sleep,” he says. “It’ll be all right tomorrow.”

Jon yawns and closes his eyes, and it doesn’t really surprise him when he falls asleep straightaway. The nightmares are as present as ever, but in the morning, he can almost fool himself into believing they weren’t so bad.

Almost.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #referenced homophobia cw #internalized aphobia cw #panic attacks cw #please click that link and listen to the song #it'll make that bit so much better

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indiguus · 3 years

Text

first lines of last 20

@stellarm tagged me. i got a feeling it'll be a bunch of very short simple sentences for first lines. 😅 btw, i'm skipping those ficlet collections. guidelines: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all.) choose your favorite opening line, tag some friends!

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20. why don't you kiss me? [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] After months of hellish training and strict diet, Buck got into the best shape of his life. And more importantly, he got his spot on the LAFD firefighter calendar. Some might think it vain but he felt accomplished -- challenging himself and succeeding with discipline he didn't even know he was capable of. Nobody could take this victory away from him.

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19. floating [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] "I'm going on a coffee break!" yelled Buck, without turning his head as he stepped out of the tent.

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18. speeding [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] It was a small sip of wine that Buck almost choked on. If it was to happened it would be a great deal more embarrassing than getting choked by a piece of bread. And yet across from him, Maddie reacted like this was well within the confine of her expected outcomes when those words left her lips.

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17. fighting [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] It was a regular medical call for the 118. Hen & Chim was treating a woman for dehydration and what appeared to be a severe migraine attack. Buck was distracting the woman's 5 year-old daughter trying to keep her calm.

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16. feasting [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] "Mi querido, Evan!" Buck was spotted the moment he walked and immediately got pulled into a tight hug, as the restaurant owner ambled over to him. Without missing a beat, he guided Isabel over to a nearby empty booth to sit down, with a hand on her elbow and settled himself opposite her.

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15. cleaning [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] Buck wasn't a sloppy guy. He put a lot of effort into keeping his apartment clean and comfortable, because after a 24-hour shift he would like a clean bed with fresh sheets to pass out in. Or maybe a comfortable couch with no crumbs to pass out on after 6 hours of Fortnite.

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14. soaring [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] Evan Buckley did not like to fly. No matter what the statistics said, he did not feel comfortable stuck in a metal tube floating thousands of feet above the ground.

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13. Can we not rewrite our history? [9-1-1, Eddie/Buck] "What the fuck are you doing here?" Buck growled low, once everyone else cleared out of the locker room after Bobby introduced Eddie to the team, with Buck's back facing outward and his head seemingly stuffed into his own locker.

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12. ko `u `uhane [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] "Could you tell the story again please, Danno? Pleeeeeeeeease?" Even with Danny's resolve, it was impossible to give in to Grace's pleading accompanied by her earnest stare.

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11. Quiet [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] In contrast to Danny, Steve didn't make much noise. He wasn't quiet but neither was he talkative. Utilitarian, one might even categorize Steve as when it came to spoken words – unless he was arguing with Danny. In the physicality sense, Steve carried himself with a feline grace gliding between spaces without making much sound. And when he stood up to or someone, he would become a towering 12-feet thick steel reinforced concrete wall – imposing, unmovable, and most of all silent.

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10. The Menace [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] If anyone asked, Danny had a well rehearsed presentation about his partner completed with visual aids if required.

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9. Solus [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] Car ride with Danny was many things -- entertaining, frustrating, or aggravating. Boring though, it never was. Nor was it ever quiet.

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8. Boxed [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] It took Steve hours after the fact to realize. There was a game on the TV for background noise, as Steve sat down to process the day's events while having a Hapa Brown Ale. It was unfair to compare the hand-to-hand combat skills between Danny and him, but Danny could fight with the best of them and Steve had unadulterated faith in Danny having his back. Normally Steve would be too engaged in subduing other perps to observe Danny, though today was different.

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7. Agreement [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] Freddie tilted his head back eagerly exposing more of his neck to Danny, silently begging for lips, tongue and teeth, at the same time Danny's two well-lubed fingers breached him. It was a deftly practised dance for them, this familiar foreplay. With the tip of his tongue, Danny traced the often traveled path from clavicle up to earlobe humming softly while savoring the salty tang of Freddie's skin.

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6. Frayed [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] His body and his story keep moving forward. There is no stopping or slowing down. However that inhale of air filled with slightly spicy musk has been locked away in the sensory vault in the deepest recess of his mind. That moment in time, a pair of strong arms embracing him before he left the tiny motel room, propels him forward and gives him the will to survive.

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5. When I Climb the Stairs and Turn the Key [Stargate SG-1 & Stargate Atlantis, Cameron Mitchell/John Sheppard] "I'm too old for this shit," Jackson muttered from his crouched position behind a nearby boulder. Cam shot him an exasperated look while spears, arrows and darts continued to rain down on them. Because Jackson always said things like that - how he should do more research and fewer front line missions, but at the first mention of a Maya-like civilization, he jumped on-board immediately. All previous declarations conveniently forgotten. So, the chance of him ever feeling too old for field trips through the gate was slim to none.

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4. Proximity [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] Danny rants. It's an irrefutable truth like humans need oxygen to survive. Danny rants and complains like nobody Steve has ever met. Danny even rants about things that not necessarily bother him but he does it anyway just because he can. To dissect and discern which ones really matter, is something Steve has learned early on.

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3. More Than Three [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] "Seriously?" Steve grunted in mild frustration, trying to lock his face down to military blank because he didn't need more names to his expressions. He didn't have faces.

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2. Faded Memories [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] Swallowing down the rest of his beer, Steve set the empty bottle on the bar top behind him without looking, his attention homed in on the blond across the empty dance floor. It was early evening on a Wednesday, and this man was the best in the club at the moment -- not that he wouldn't stand out in a full house on a Saturday night. A good half foot shorter than Steve, the man's shirt might be covering his skin, at the same time it enhanced the display of his musculature.

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1. Downward Dog [Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny] Danny's hiding something. Steve is sure of it. He's certain it's nothing to be paranoid about because he knows Danny, trusts him implicitly; but the thing is, Danny's hiding something.

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tagging: @tari-aldarion, @agentlemuse, and @finduilasclln.

#tagged #long post

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allegra-writes · 5 years

Text

Perfect

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

General Audiences

Warnings: None

The request:

This is the story of the first time you met Peter Parker, and the first time you kissed.

For all the people who asked for a second part of "Happy birthday, Peter" or asked me what happened in Paris. This is prequel to that fic, but as always, can be read as a stand alone.

MY MASTERLIST

You wouldn’t say you were having the worst day of your life, that was probably the day that psycho of Aldrich Killian kidnapped you and played mad science with you. Or, going farther back, the day those other psychos of Ten Rings had snatched your father in the middle of the dessert and kept him away from you for three months. No, you wouldn’t say it was the worst day of your life, but it was definitely on the top five.

First, your father finally allowed you to wear your suit, yes, but it was to fight the people that until forty-eight hours before had been your family. Then, you had gotten to meet the famous Spider-Man from You Tube, and he was as amazing as you thought he would be, or more, fighting side by side with you and your father, matching the rest of the Avengers in strength and skill and even managing to land a few punches on Steve, while visibly enjoying himself all the time. He was smart, and funny and a total hottie under that mask. So of course you had frozen like a star-struck twelve year old. You hadn’t even been able to speak, and now he probably thought you were some conceited, stuck up brat, too good to talk to the noobie.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, your father had humiliated you by taken you off the battlefield and carting you back to the hotel, with Happy as your babysitter, as if you were a child. Your only consolation was that Spider-Man had gotten the same treatment.

Still, by far the worst thing that happened that day, had been uncle Rhodey’s accident.

You had watched in horror how your dad had been too late to stop him from hitting the ground, unable to do anything yourself because he had deactivated your suit in order to force you out of the fight. He had rode to the hospital with Rhodey but had disappeared afterwards, and you knew that by the time you got your dad back, he was going to be bloodied and bruised. Not for the first time, you wished he would trust you enough to let you help him, but you weren’t under any delusions: You knew that after what had happened to uncle Rhodey, the chances of Tony letting you tag along on another mission were pretty much zero.

That also meant that the chances of you and Spider-Man ever crossing paths again were very slim, and with Happy returning you to New York the next morning, your window of opportunity with him was getting closed. So you did the Stark thing to do: You suited up for the battle and went to find Peter Parker.

…

Peter Parker was having the best day of his life. First, his childhood hero had brought him to Europe (or, had him brought, but whatever, Mister Stark was a busy man), then he gave him a brand new, awesome suit for him to wear. After that, he got to meet - and fight – The Avengers, and even steal Captain America's shield. The only downside had been that his celebrity crush, y/n Stark, hadn’t even spared him a glance, but he was used to pretty girls being aloof. At least to him.

He was so excited, that not even Happy Hogan's lack of enthusiasm could deter his good mood. Not even when he had demanded him to keep it down twice, and was currently knocking on his door a third time.

“Sorry, Happy! I promise this time I’ll...” He started apologizing before even opening the door, but the words died in his mouth once he did. Because that wasn’t Happy on the other side.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Mi-miss Stark! Hi!” It wasn’t fair, you thought: you knew you didn’t look that cute when you were nervous. But seeing him getting as flustered at you did wonders to your level of confidence. You smiled, feeling a little more your self.

“It’s y/n” you corrected.

“Y/n, sure” he blushed even harder, and you smiled wider.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Of-of course, miss Stark, y/n! I meant y/n!”, he tripped a little over himself making room for you to step in and it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. You immediately headed for his bed, hopping on it because why not.

“So,” You commented casually without stopping to jump, “this is the Spider-cave…”

“I- I guess, I mean” It wasn’t fair, Peter thought. The most accomplished girl of his generation, for not mentioning beautiful, the one whose picture was on his lockscreen, was currently jumping. On his bed. And he was expected to make sense? Ok, he could do this, he just had to say words. Words that went together. Any words.

Why couldn’t he remember any words?

“I’m sure yours is bigger” He meant your room, but you totally miss understood.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not as bouncy” you replied.

“what?”

“What?” You parroted dumbly, pausing your hopping.

“Your room is not as bouncy?” Peter regretted talking as soon as he opened his mouth. What if he had misinterpreted you? What if it was some kind of cool kid's slang and he had just proven how not cool he was? What if-

“No, I meant my bed…”

Of course you were talking about your bed, it was obvious! He was so stupid! Now you were standing there looking at him with a tiny frown on your face, probably thinking he was a complete looser.

And now it was awkward. God, why was he such a-

“Why are you on your pajamas?”

Your question took him by surprise. He took in your black shorts and sheer blue top. Wow. Just… wow.

“… Why aren’t you?”

“It’s like, six o'clock” You explained with a shrug, “Dad said it was your first time in Berlin, I was thinking you’d might like to go out, do a little sight seeing…”

“Actually I already saw the city yesterday” Peter wanted to punch himself: What was wrong with him? Y/n Stark had just basically asked him out and he had rejected her. And now you looked disappointed. Like, for real, for him.

However, as he was later going to learn, you weren’t the type to give up easily.

“But this isn’t just your first time in Berlin, is it? It’s your first time in Europe, period. Isn’t it?” you checked.

“It is” He confirmed, “Why?”

A mischievous grin, so much like your father’s, started to slowly grow on your face.

“I just had the craziest idea…”

…

You weren’t like this. You weren’t wild, you weren’t reckless, that was a Stark gene you seemed to lack. Until now, cause there was something about Peter Parker, about his wide eyed gaze, his childlike enthusiasm, that made you feel adventurous and fearless. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you wanted to impress him.

You wanted to blow his mind.

… God, you were in so much trouble.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing it, this is insane!”

“You can still back out if you want, it’s not too late” But as you said the words you knew it was a lie, it was already too late. Because you could see reflected in Peter’s big brown eyes the same madness that seemed to have overtook you. He wasn’t backing up, not for anything.

He was about to open his mouth to reply when a soft tap on the car window interrupted him.

“Miss Stark, everything is ready, you have permission to land in Charles de Gaulle in forty minutes”

“Danke sehr aufmerksam, herr Müller” You turned to Peter, “What do you say, Spider-Man? Wanna go for a joyride?”

Stealing a plane and flying away to another country turned out to be not as big of a deal as Peter had imagined. If anything, it was a little anticlimactic how minimal was the effort you both had to do with a self-flown jet and the Stark last name opening borders and clearing landing tracks for you. Still, it didn’t stopped his heart from beating hard inside his chest the whole time. Or maybe that was just you and the effect you had on him, running hand in hand through the airport, trying to get away from the bunch of paparazzi that caught wind of the Stark jet landing there. It was exhilarating. You were exhilarating.

… He was in so much trouble.

“We need a cab” Peter announced once outside de airport, without slowing down, the paparazzi hot on your heels.

“There’s no way we’ll be able to loose them in a car, we need something faster” You pointed out, way more experienced in being hunted by the press.

“There, look!” He gestured at an impressive looking motorcycle that was just pulling up a few yards ahead.

“A Livewire! You have taste, Parker”

A pleased little blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Thanks,” He mumbled.

“Excusez-moi, monsieur!” You started, but the guy on the Harley interrupted you.

“Dude, I’m from L.A.” He chuckled, “And you are y/n Stark! This is so awesome, can I get a selfie?”

“Sure, can we get a ride?” You smiled sweetly at the camera.

“Sorry, guys, I’m here to pick up my son, his flight is delayed, he’s gonna flip when he sees you were here and he missed it…” He seemed genuinely sorry.

“Could we, like borrow your bike, then?” Peter requested.

The guy hesitated,

“Well, I mean, you look like cool kids and all but…”

“Here, you can have my watch as a guarantee you’ll get it back” you took your watch off your wrist and placed it on his open palm, “We’ll send you the location of the bike once we’re done, and maybe we could get another selfie with your son when you come pick it up…”

There wasn’t much time left, with the first photographers already coming out the doors. Luckily the bike guy caved in.

“Is this a Stark watch? These are worth like, a hundred thousand…”

“Couple hundreds, actually” You corrected, “special edition and all that”

“Ok, Take it!” The guy said, seeing the paparazzi running your way.

“Thanks!”

“Thank you so much! We’ll promise to give it back in one piece!” Peter yelled back as you both were riding away, with his hands firm on the handle, loving the feeling of your warm form draped around his back and the wind on his face. It was almost like swinging on his webs at breakneck speed, maybe even better, cause your arms were wrapped around his waist.

“Ever did this before?” you asked, raising your voice above the howling of the wind.

“I drove my friend's Ned scooter once” He replied, honestly “and I have super fast reflexes, how hard can this be?”

“Oh my God, we’re going to die!!” You groaned into his jeans cladded shoulder.

“Don’t worry, miss Stark, I won’t let anything happen to you” He promised, speeding down the A1 under the pink sunset. And if your heart melted a little right then and there, well, no one really needed to know.

“Whoa! That is amazing!” Peter bursted out in awe as soon as you reached Avenue Foch and the Arc de Triomphe appeared into view.

“Ok, pull over there, it’s time to ditch the bike” you decided.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely, this city is full of beautiful things at every corner, we might miss some if we go too fast” You loved Paris, and for some reason, you wanted Peter to fall in love with it too. You couldn’t really put your finger on why it was so important to you, but you needed him to see it the same way that you did, with all it’s beauty and quirks, with all it’s flaws (because there were flaws, like the rats or the outdated subway system), you didn’t want Peter to just have the narrow tourist view, with only the golden statues, the museums and the clichés.

You were going to give Peter the full experience.

He webbed the Harley to the front windows of a Bowling alley and you sent the coordinates to your own watch for the cool guy from the airport to pick it up.

“We are in Paris! This is the wildest, craziest thing ever! Crazier than stealing Cap's shield! I mean, I-…”

“Peter? What are you doing?”

Peter lowered his cellphone and turned to face you,

“I- I was… it’s just- I've been making this video of the trip so far and I thought…” He explained, sheepishly.

“Cool, can I be on it?”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.

“Ye-yeah, sure” He turned the phone so the camera was pointing at you.

“We are in Paris with y/n!” He started over, “This is the craziest shit! I’m in the city of lights with the Queen S herself! Say 'Hi', your highness!”

It was amazing how the hated nickname the press had given you suddenly sounded so much sweeter from Peter’s lips. You smiled big and bright for his camera and did a little wave, and it was the cutest thing Peter had ever seen in his life. Chubby pandas and sneezing kittens had nothing on you.

“Where to now?”

“Tuileries Garden, of course” You said without missing a beat, “but we gotta hurry, it'll be closing time soon!”

Peter Parker had superhuman strength, you knew that, you had seen him stop a bus with his bare hands, witnessed him stopping a punch from the winter soldier himself. Yet he let you dragged him by the hand all across the Champs-Elysees. You weren’t sure what that meant, but it made you feel warm inside.

He, on the other hand, knew exactly what it meant. Because he would have let you do anything you wanted with him. Because he had known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you already had him wrapped around your little finger.

“Oh, no!” Your disappointment at finally arriving at the garden gates only to find them closed pulled at something inside of him. Those sad eyes and pouty lips ought to be illegal. He wondered idly what it would be like to bite that protruding bottom lip, to kiss the pout away. He chastised himself mentally, you were obviously upset, it was not the time for those kind of thoughts. You had your heart set on that garden, and he was just a middle class kid from Queens, there wasn’t much he could give to one of the richest girls in the world, but he could give you this.

“I think I might have an idea”

You turned to him with hopeful eyes,

“You do?”

“Yeah, but…” He hesitated, “we would have to- I mean you would have to let me, like…” He gestured awkwardly at your torso, his face reddening quickly.

“What?”

“Look, just… Do you trust me?” He finally asked.

“Of course” came your immediate reply.

“Ok. I’m just going to…” He took a step towards you, and very slowly, giving you plenty of time to back away or stop him, he wrapped an arm firmly around your waist.

You had never been this close to him before, well, no, that was a lie, you had been really close to him on the bike but somehow this felt different. Your face ended up on the crook of his neck and you breathed him in: Fabric softener with a hint of axe deodorant and chemicals, probably from his web fluid, and underneath all that, something else, spicy, like cinnamon. Something purely Peter.

Your warm breath on his neck sent shivers down his spine and he had to take a few seconds to gather himself enough to be sure his voice wouldn’t tremble before he said,

“Now wrap your arms and legs around me”

“What??” You squeaked, to your embarrassment.

“You said you trusted me”

“I- I do” You locked your arms around his shoulders and, with a little jump, your legs around his waist. Then, the world blurred out around you. One second, you both were standing on the ground, the next, you were flying through the air at the speed of light. And another one after that, you were landing surprisingly softly at the other side of the tall fence, effectively entering the gardens.

“Oh my god, that was awesome!”

“I’ve seen you literally flying,” Peter pointed out, “this was just a jump, definitely not as cool”

“Yeah, but like, in full armor and helmet. I never get to feel the wind on my face and stuff…”

“y/n? You can let go now” Peter regretted his words as soon as you let go of him and took a step back, taking your warmth and sweet perfume with you. He tried to cover his disappointment up.

“So, what’s so special about this garden anyway?”

You kept pointing at different flowers and sculptures for him to see and film, but more often than not, Peter found himself looking at you instead of them, far more fascinated by you. Far more interested in capturing the sparkle in your eyes anytime you saw something beautiful, or the way your skin seemed to almost glow under the fading light of the blue twilight, than in any fountain or plant.

It was a beautiful park, there was no denying it, like some enchanted wonderland out of a fairly tale. But he suspected it would probably loose most of it’s magic without it’s bewitching princess walking amongst it’s flowers, telling stories about the Medici and revolutions.

“… and of course, there’s the Ferris wheel. Do you think we can turn it on? I mean, it’s going to attract attention so we’ll probably won’t get a lot of time on it” You turned to find him staring at you through his cellphone camera, a soft look you didn’t dare to name on his face. “Pete, are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, yes, of course, I was just-…”

“Vous, arrete vous!”

“Shit! We better run!”

The security guard was fast. Definitely not as fast as Peter but way to fast for you, so Peter ended up carrying you in his arms bridal style even after jumping the fence, because there were a couple of guards waiting for you out there too.

“Look! That must be the Seine!” He exclaimed joyfully once you reached the riverside.

“It is!” You confirmed, holding onto him for dear life as he raced towards the water.

“Uncle Ben used to take me fishing when I was little,” He commented casually as he came to a halt right next to a small boat tied to an even smaller dock. He deposited you carefully on it, and jumped in himself, immediately getting into the task of starting up the little outboard motor.

“Are we stealing a boat now?” You snorted inelegantly.

“Borrowing it,” He corrected, finally sailing away from the shore and the guards yelling at you angrily on it. “We are borrowing it. And I don’t see why not, we already borrowed a plane and a motorcycle…” He shrugged.

“I guess we are literally partners in crime, huh?”

“I still can believe it,” He confessed, shaking his head, “I mean, up until like three hours ago I thought you didn’t like me”

You lowered your eyes in shame.

“I know, sorry 'bout that” It was your turn to make a little confession, “I know I was a total bitch to you at the airport, it’s just… I was kind of nervous about meeting you and I-…”

“Wait, what?” Peter Parker looked like a confused puppy, and you knew he would not appreciate the comparison but to you it was the cutest shit you had ever seen. “You were nervous about meeting me? Why?”

“Because,” You explained, “You are Spider-Man, you stopped a car from hitting a bus full of people with one hand, that’s kind of amazing”

You are kind of amazing, you were too much of a coward to say out loud.

“You saw my videos?”

You rolled your eyes,

“Well, duh! Who do you think showed them to my dad?”

Peter was speechless: You weren’t just the reason he was in Paris: You were the reason he was in Europe at all, the reason Tony Stark had seek him out, and offered him the “internship”. He knew after this trip his life was going to change forever and it was all because of you.

It was all thanks to you, and he didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Now, see that bridge over there? That’s Pont des Invalides, nothing special about it, there’s hundreds of bridges in this city,” You continued to talk, completely oblivious to his little epiphany, “but once we reach it we’ll be able to see…”

“The Eiffel tower!” Apparently he had already spotted it.

By the time you finally reached Pont d'lena and we’re able to leave the boat, Peter was almost vibrating with excitement.

“There’s a merry go round!”

“A carousel, actually.” You corrected.

“What’s the difference?” Peter asked, confused. His little frown was adorable.

“Merry go rounds are for children. Carousels are for sophisticated young adults visiting Paris on their own for the first time!” You said before jumping into it before it even stopped moving, what earned you a few dirty looks from a couple of locals that were there with their children, but Peter was laughing as he jumped behind you, so it was all worth it.

“This has to be the prettiest merry go round I had ever took a ride on…”

“Carousel,” you rectified again “but, yeah, everything is prettier in Paris.” You sighed.

“Except you”

Your mouth fell open in mock indignation,

“Peter Parker, you take that back!”

“No- that’s not-… I mean, I didn’t- I wasn’t…”

He took a deep breath to pull himself together.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to say that you always look beautiful, no matter the city you are in…”

You looked away to hide your blush.

“Well… you probably should have started with that” you said as nonchalantly as you managed. The carousel finally stopped moving.

“Now what?” Questioned Peter once you got off of the ride.

“Now we go see the tower, after that… we'll probably have to take the subway, so we can go all the way to Montparnasse to see the Catacombs” You decided. He didn’t looked that convinced, though.

“The catacombs? At night? Won’t that be like, really creepy?”

“That’s the whole point! Besides,” you finished, looping your arm around his “I’ve got Spider-Man to protect me from anything evil that might be lurking down there”

He laughed,

“And I have Iron girl to protect me, so I guess there’s nothing to be afraid of”

“I’m not so sure about that superhero name,” The way you scrunched your nose was way too adorable for your own good, Peter concluded. “We’re gonna have to keep working on that…”

“Wow! Look at that, that’s incredible!”

You follow Peter’s line of sight right to were the most famous landmark in the world was sparkling as if covered in a thousand stars.

“It’s like the world’s biggest Christmas tree!”

… Or that, you guessed.

There were very few views in the world more beautiful than the Eiffel tower at night. The naked awe in Peter Parker's face illuminated by the tower lights as he gazed upon it, was one of them.

A soft yapping sound took you both out of your respective reveries. A couple of Pit bull puppies had seemingly escaped their leashes and we’re running around one of the entrances.

“Aww, look! It’s puppy love!” You declared as one of the puppies licked at the other's snout.

Peter laughed.

“Do you think that was their first kiss?” He wondered, “They do look kind of nervous and over exited about each other…”

You smiled,

“I wish my first kiss had been like that”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, in Paris, under the Eiffel tower lights on a full moon?” You explained, “Mine wasn’t nearly as romantic”

Peter seemed to get lost in thought.

You nudged at him with your shoulder.

“What about you? What was your first kiss like?”

He seriously considered lying, he really didn’t want you to know how much of a looser he was, and he also kinda wanted to impress you. But you had been nothing but sincere and natural and open with him the whole night, the least you deserved was his honesty.

“I never-… I mean, I haven’t… kissed anyone… yet.”

You blinked.

“Never? Really?”

“Really really” He confirmed and even under the soft light you could tell he was blushing furiously.

You didn’t know what possessed you next. Possibly the same brand of insanity that drove you to take your father’s jet in the first place, but that was neither here nor there as you slowly, very slowly like him at the gardens, took a step towards him and whispered,

“Close your eyes”

He couldn’t have disobeyed your command even if he had wanted to, it was like some strange gravitational phenomenon, or maybe an electromagnetic one: The closer you were, the stronger the pull to get even closer, and the stronger your power over him. He closed his eyes but he was quite obviously unnerved, the tension clear on his shoulders. You laced your finger with his and squeezed his hand a little, and he relaxed immediately at your touch. He licked his lips instinctively and that was your undoing, you finally pressed your lips softy to his, and the universe burst into colors behind your eyelids. It was sweet, and gentle and everything a first kiss was supposed to be.

And you actually had no recollection of any other person you had kissed before; because they were inconsequential, no one had ever made you feel anything like this, warming you up from the inside, making you dizzy with want. It was stronger than any whiskey you might or might not had sneaked from your father’s bar. You stood there, drinking each other for some minutes, or maybe some centuries, you weren’t sure. Everything beyond Peter’s lips on yours had lost its meaning.

When you finally parted, Peter rested his forehead in yours, breathless and refusing to have to let go of you completely.

“How was that for a first kiss?” You asked under your breath. Peter smiled, leaning in once again.

“It was perfect” He replied against your lips, “Absolutely perfect.”

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #cute #first love #first kiss

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bgn846 · 4 years

Text

FFXV FIC Simple Gifts

Summary:

Cor gets roped into helping Aulea and Regis hide solstice gifts from each other. However, Cor may end up causing more trouble than he realized by his act.

Cor is 18 in this and King Mors hasn't passed yet.

Work Text:

Aulea’s high heels were making a frantic clicking noise as she scurried over. Cor knew what was coming, it wasn’t hard to guess. He was about to become ‘the helper’ yet again.

“Would you mind hiding this?” she asked in a rushed whisper.

The box she was holding wasn’t exactly small but none of the other ones she’d pawned off on him to hide had been tiny either. “Sure thing, if it’ll make it easier for you,” he grumbled kindly.

“Oh yes, you’re a dear. Regis doesn’t know what he’s talking about when he picks on you. You’re a saint!”

Only pausing briefly to wonder what in the six Regis said about him, Cor regained his composure and finally smiled. “It’s not an issue; do let me know when you need all of them back.”

“Certainly, I’ll have someone swing by in a few days to retrieve all the gifts. I can’t tell you how helpful this has been. Regis has been looking through all the closets trying to find solstice presents. He’s terrible!” she giggled with a blush.

Oh, he was terrible alright, Regis was so gonna get it in training after the holidays. Cor didn’t mind helping out Aulea, she was like a sister to him, but Regis, he was more a grade A royal pain. They were friends and had their own little moments, but this time he’d overstepped his boundaries. Not only was he hiding Aulea’s gifts, but Regis had also tasked him with holding the prince’s things until the appointed time.

Except in Regis’ case, he simply had the items shipped directly to Cor’s tiny apartment. The giant box holding what Cor had already assessed was an enormous teddy bear was taking up half his modest living room. Why hadn’t the prince sent things to Clarus’ house instead? Though, he had a suspicion that Liliales would have probably already figured out what was going on and shared the news with Aulea. Those two were thick as thieves.

Taking the box from Aulea, Cor nodded and smiled again as she giggled and turned to leave, her mission was complete. Sighing at the silliness of it all he began heading towards the elevator. The sooner he was home the sooner he could relax. Alone.

Most of the time that thought didn’t bother him, but with all the gift-giving going around he was starting to wonder about his life choices. Staying single and out of trouble had served him well over the years. Granted he was still a teenager to some, and he’d done quite a bit in his short existence. Going to war changed a person. Romance it seemed had fallen by the wayside during this time. Now, though, as he was settling into life back at the Citadel the idea to seek out another’s company wasn’t so foreign anymore.

A faint shout drew him out of his ruminations as he neared the elevators. Turning he saw one of Regis’ secretaries rushing over. She was carrying a small gift bag and sporting a blush that matched the red tissue paper peeking out the top. Heaving a sigh at yet another gift being pawned off on him from Regis he stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, another gift to hold onto?” The girl stopped a few feet away and tried to reply but failed twice. She finally nodded and handed the bag to him. “I got it from here, thanks,” he muttered.

Without saying more the girl cast her eyes down to the floor and practically ran away from him. Shaking his head at the odd interaction he continued onto the garage. Aulea’s box fit in the trunk along with the little gift bag. Regis was getting lax on his gift wrapping if the additional bag was anything to go by. It was simple and only tied shut with a little sparkly ribbon.

Slamming the trunk closed he slipped into the car and drove home. The day had been long and he was looking forward to simply zoning out for the evening. When he shoved his key in the door twenty minutes later he dutifully placed the package with its mates in the corner. Any more and he’d not be able to see the TV. Plopping the little gift bag down on top he finally noticed the tag that had been attached.

His breath caught in his throat and a cold panic gripped his chest. The little piece of paper dangling from the bag said his name. Six, he’d assumed it was another gift to hide, not one for him! That poor girl had actually given him a gift and he’d played it off like it was nothing. No wonder she’d fled with such an odd look. He’d probably made her feel absolutely awful.

Without pause, he rushed back out the door and down to his car. Maybe she would still be in the office if he hurried. It wasn’t until he was halfway there that he realized he’d not even opened the gift, dear gods he was an idiot.

Of course, now that he was trying to be fast every obstacle presented itself. Red light? He got stuck. People crossing the street? They went in front of his car. Growling in frustration when he did finally reach the citadel he booked it up to the office suites. It was a slim chance that he’d find the girl but he had to try. He couldn’t go to sleep that night knowing he’d caused this mess.

When the elevator doors dinged open, Cor knew he was doomed. The floor was mostly dark aside from the main corridor lights. Groaning loudly he stepped forward and went hunting for anyone that might still be hiding in their office. He was about to give up when he heard a noise from the breakroom. Running over he found a guy rifling through the fridge.

The man looked up with alarm as Cor approached, “Ah I didn’t do it, whatever it is you think I did.”

“Huh? What are you going on about?” Cor asked in confusion.

“I know who you are and I didn’t do it, I swear.”

Rolling his eyes at the exchange Cor sighed, “I’m looking for someone else, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Oh thank the six, um, who are you looking for then?” the guy asked with wide eyes.

“A girl that works as one of Regis’ secretaries, she was here earlier.”

“The prince has more than one assistant, what does she look like?”

Thinking back to the timid girl Cor easily described her to the man. “Wavy dark long hair, she was wearing a red skirt and some sort of dark jacket I think.”

“Oh, that’s Mina. She left thirty minutes ago.”

Okay, this was helpful; he at least had a name now. “Where does she live?” Cor blurted before he could stop his brain.

“Um, I have no idea. Did she do something?

“Will you quit it with all the foreboding shit, I’m trying to find her to talk about something work-related.” He lied.

“Oh, oh cool, you’re the immortal after all I just assumed something bad had happened.”

“I’m just a crownsguard that went to war and survived.”

“Sure,” the man offered with a tight-lipped smiled. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Shaking his head no, Cor turned and headed for the elevator again. He needed to make one stop at the security office before he left. What he was about to do was grossly unprofessional but he had to find this girl and apologize for his behavior.

Forty-five minutes later found him parked in front of a fairly elegant townhouse in the fancy part of town. He was sure Clarus’ house was around the corner or something. Having already gotten out of the car he walked up to the door and stared at the buzzer. It wasn’t too late to back out now. If the girl got freaked out by his visit he’d get in a lot of trouble.

Deciding it was worth the risk he pressed the button and waited. It took a few minutes but a figure appeared behind the frosted glass and unlocked the door. The man behind it could only have been a butler or housekeeper if his cold demeanor was anything to go on.

“How may I assist you, young man?”

Squaring his shoulders and letting his military training kick in Cor attempted to remain calm. “Evening Sir, I was hoping I might be able to have a quick word with Miss Mina.”

“And what may I ask is this regarding,” the man rebutted.

“She assisted me with something at work earlier and I’d very much like to thank her for the effort.”

“Perhaps this could wait until tomorrow when you see her at work.”

Shit, this wasn’t how he wanted things to go. “Of course, if that works better. If you could at least please tell her I stopped by to give my thanks I’d be very grateful.”

“I shall deliver the message. Though If I may, your name Sir?”

“Cor Leonis, Sir.”

The man blinked rapidly for a moment before holding up his hand, “If you might wait for a moment longer.”

Cor didn’t have time to answer as the door was promptly shut in his face. Okay, that was weird. The guy had told him to wait so that meant he should stay? Was he about to get arrested or something? Kicking his feet out to keep from locking his knees, Cor waited. Enough time had passed that he was certain the cops had been called and he was going to be in big trouble with the king.

The idea of leaving had crossed his mind, but he’d already given his name. What use would it be if he high-tailed it outta there? A figure behind the door caught his attention a second later. However, this time when the door opened, Mina was on the other side.

“Terrance said you had come to thank me for something?” she said meekly as she hid partially behind the door.

Cor straightened up once more and bowed courteously. “Forgive my actions earlier; I wasn’t aware the gift you’d handed me was for me. I thought it was something Reg—his highness had pawned off on you to give to me.”

“Oh, oh, I see,” she breathed out with obvious relief. A small hint of a smile was starting to show on her face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you; I simply didn’t realize what you’d given me.”

“That’s alright, I’m so glad you came to tell me, that makes me feel so much better.”

Relieved that his own efforts were making a difference Cor plowed on ahead. “Admittedly, I don’t know what you gave me yet, when I saw the tag with my name I raced out to try and find you to apologize.”

Mina giggled at the admission and smiled wider. “Should I tell you now or let you find out when you get back home?”

“Surprise,” he blurted with a sly smile. “And sorry to have bothered you at home, I broke a few rules getting the address but I just couldn’t let this lie.”

“I won’t report you,” she added softly.

“Most appreciated, I guess I should let you get back to enjoying your evening.”

Mina nodded and wavered slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Deciding to be bold Cor took a deep breath and asked an important question. “Do you have any plans for the solstice gala?”

“Yes, we’re decorating and getting everyth--,” Mina clamped her mouth shut mid-sentence. “Um, you didn’t mean preparing for the gala did you.”

Shaking his head no, Cor smiled and waited.

“For the gala itself, no, I don’t have any plans.”

“Would you like to go with me?”

The girl actually squealed when he finished asking and nodded furiously, “Yes, I’d love to.”

Grinning like an idiot Cor bowed again and began backing away slowly. “I should really go; otherwise we’ll be standing here talking about nothing for hours.”

“Wait, one last thing,” she added before disappearing briefly. When she came back into view she was scribbling something down on a pad of paper. “Here’s my number, we can coordinate when and where to meet.”

“Can I talk to you about other stuff too?” He teased.

Mina blushed and nodded. “Yes, you may.”

“Well then, I’m gonna go home and see what you gifted me.”

“Kay, drive safe, talk to you soon.”

With the simple goodbye Cor turned and walked back to his car, this was all so new, he’d never tried dating before with any seriousness. Mina was sweet and he was looking forward to getting to know her better.

He couldn’t help himself later that night when he sent Mina a picture of the gift after he’d opened it. A large black mug emblazoned with a golden lion on one side and a sword on the other had been the sole item in the bag, and he loved it.

Now, to figure out what to wear to this damned gala, crownsguard fatigues didn’t exactly fit the black-tie attire bill. Though he figured Mina would probably be more than willing to help him pick something out. Maybe this holiday season wouldn’t be so lonely after all.

#ffxv #fanfic #cor leonis

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 years

Text

Return to Me - Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two: And I Run, Run, Run

A/N: Sorry I had to skip last week, I needed some time to get caught up! I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think! Let me know if you want to be tagged, too, or if I missed you in the list.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 4,512 Synopsis: Still on the run, the reader travels to Arvala-7, where she meets someone who opens her eyes to how foolish she has been. Warnings: violence

Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @danicalifxrnia, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston, @roserrys, @blushingwueen, @americasass-romanoff, @commondazy, @throughparisallthroughrome, @ms-dont-care , @bubblegumcat229 , @barnesdameron

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After Poe left, you didn’t waste much time. You allowed yourself a few minutes to cry, but quickly wiped your face clean. The Resistance had found you, which meant that your location was no longer safe. Looks like you wouldn’t be able to sell those scraps after all.

You pulled out the scrap of paper that you had kept in your pocket since leaving the Gungan Underworld. It had a list of planets, some crossed off, with the words, “Not Safe,” written next to them. You quickly jotted down another “Not Safe” next to Taris and scratched it off.

You finished packing your few things and tried to keep your eyes from traveling to the slight indent in your bed where Poe had slept.

It was still dark out when you left the room. Of course, on Taris that didn’t exactly matter. There were still people creeping around every corner of the poorly lit street, but you kept your bearings. When you left Naboo, Jobee Qod had lent you an old ship. He said that the Gungans didn’t get much use of out it, and when he led you to it, you saw that he was right.

The old ship was rusting in more spots than it wasn’t, and when it reached lightspeed it made an awful humming noise, but it worked. It was the kind of piece of junk you only look at once, and wish that you hadn’t seen, which made it the perfect ship for your travels. You had to get some repairs on it when you landed on Felucia, which unfortunately cut your stay there shorter, but other than that, the old clunker had proved useful for you.

When you landed on Taris, you gave up most of the credits you had stashed away to store it in an old hangar. As you approached the shop, it was clear the owner wasn’t home. For a second you thought about hanging around to wait for day to hit and the shop to open, but then you remembered your dreams. Yes, the Resistance had found you, but you figured they would when you sent out your transmission. You could handle the Resistance. But if the First Order were to find you, which was likely, given the dream you had last night, there was no chance for you to escape. Not when you were as alone as you were.

Waiting simply wasn’t an option.

You snuck around the back of the building, although you weren’t sure it would matter. There were people milling about the street, but they were all focused on their own business. They were probably just as hopeful as you were that no one was watching what they were doing.

At the rear of the shop there were two large windows and a back door. Hoping for luck that never seemed to find you, you tried the door first. Locked. And when you tried the windows, too, you found they were also locked.

“Damn it,” you muttered. You took another look around you. No one was watching you. You had tried to remain as harmless as possible on your mission to disappear, but you had to do some things that were quite unbecoming of a queen, even if you weren’t eager to do so. Right now, you had to make another choice to get off of Taris.

With your elbow, you broke the glass of the large window. Break-ins were common in this part of the planet, so no one really invested in high quality security systems, or even higher strength glass. There wasn’t anything worth saving down here.

Your ship rattled as you started it up, but it still started. You threw your things in the back and took a few breaths. Usually when you had to fly you thought of Poe. Poe could fly anything, and always made it look simple, so you would try to embody his cool demeanor when you took flight. But after everything that had happened, you had to actively stop yourself from thinking about him. And the memories that did appear weren’t happy ones.

“There’s no time for that,” you said to yourself, hoping that hearing the sound of your own voice would break you from your thoughts, “I only need to focus on leaving.”

The next planet on your list was Arvala-7. It was quite a ways away, but from the way a man on Felucia had descried it to you, it was one of the perfect places in the galaxy to completely disappear. There were lots of people there, he had explained, but they’re just as eager as you to stay hidden.

You hadn’t trusted the man not to follow you directly to Arvala-7, so when you left Felucia, you decided to journey to Taris instead. But you were running out of leads now, and Arvala-7 seemed like a perfect location to get away for a while, at least to make plans of a more permanent location for you.

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“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“I wouldn’t call it kind, missy, I’m expecting hard work out of you. Just because I’m letting you stay with us, doesn’t mean you won’t have to earn your keep.” You nodded your head and followed behind Marsa, a woman you had met on the outpost you had arrived at on Arvala-7. She could see you looking around, trying to find your way, and assumed you were looking for a place to get away. She offered you one right away. Said that she employed all kinds of drifters, as long as they worked hard.

You weren’t even sure what kind of work Marsa was in, you were just glad for a place to stay. She even had a field where you could keep your little ship, that after this last trip, seemed to be on its last leg. You wouldn’t be comfortable taking it back into space without getting some repairs done, which wouldn’t happen without getting some real money.

Marsa lived three hours away from the outpost. It was true that she must scavenge for workers there because she had absolutely no other business besides picking you up. It was as if she was waiting for you. You flew behind her, taking in the scenery as you made your way to her farm. You were hoping to recognize landmarks so that if things took a turn for the worst, you could find your way back, but it was just a vast expanse of nothing. Sand for miles and miles.

Hopefully, you wouldn’t need to make a quick leave.

Within a week of staying at Marsa’s house, you felt comfortable that you wouldn’t need to make a quick getaway. Besides Marsa, her wife and two daughters, the ranch you stayed on was quiet. Marsa and her family only talked to you when they had work for you to do. It was a regular routine you could throw yourself into.

You woke up at first light in the day and helped Marsa and a few of her ranch hands round up the blurrgs. Once they were corralled, you assisted in equipping them for agricultural labor. Whatever needed done on the ranch, as long as it was too big for you and the ranch hands to handle, the blurrgs were able to do. This left you with room for other jobs, which meant that Marsa sent you on nearly every errand she needed.

You were skeptical at first to travel in and around town for her, but eventually the boredom you felt on the ranch persuaded you to leave. The town was nearly as quiet the ranch. No one seemed to notice that you weren’t from around there, and if they did, they didn’t ask about it.

Everything was simple on Arvala-7, which is exactly as you wanted it. You needed to get away from all of the stress you had been living with for the last two years, and this was the perfect location. When you were doing chores for Marsa, it was easier to forget about all you left. And with the location you had chosen, you were almost certain that the First Order would ever find you here. The planet was far too remote and seemingly unimportant for their efforts, and even if they did show up, the chances of them finding you on the ranch were slim to none.

Everything was working out the way you had hoped on Arvala-7, until Khwaabi arrived.

Khwaabi was a man, around the same age as you, in a similar position as you. Marsa invited you into town with her one day, stating that she needed an extra hand to carry back everything she needed to pick up, although you suspected she was just lonely as her wife was visiting her family off-planet. Inexplicably, Marsa decided to make a detour to the outpost in town. When you questioned her about it, she just waved her hand at you and told you that she had a feeling. As you walked in with her, you surveyed the room nervously. In groups like these, there were often First Order patrols. But you also suspected that the reason Marsa had decided to come into the outpost was to keep an eye out for other lost souls like you, in the hopes of bringing them onto her ranch as well.

When you saw Khwaabi, you only had to look at him for a second to know Marsa would invite him to the ranch. He had that same lost look in his eyes that you must have had when you arrived on Arvala-7. She approached him and all too soon, he agreed to come back to the ranch with the two of you.

Although he was in the same position as you, Khwaabi was much different than you. He was an open book. Just on the ride back to Marsa’s ranch, you learned that he was from Kashyyyk. And unlike you, he told you exactly why he had left. Khwaabi had fallen in love with a boy, Leoro. But his father hadn’t approved of Khwaabi, so he decided to leave Kashyyyk to make a life that Leoro’s family would be proud of.

He was easy to read which made him an easy friend. There weren’t any secrets about him, which meant that you could trust him with yours. Although, you never did. You were nearly positive that Khwaabi could be trusted, but you had been burned before. And talking about everything that had happened seemed daunting and pointless. Whenever he tried to get any information out of you, you simply changed the subject back to Leoro and he forgot everything else.

About a month into knowing Khwaabi, a breaking point came where you could no longer hide your past. It had become a fun game for him and the other ranch hands, guessing wildly about where you had come from. They came up with tales of pirating and espionage, one even guessed that you were an empress on the run from your kingdom, but you never gave in. You just laughed at their guesses and tucked in early for the night.

But one day, you couldn’t run anymore.

Marsa sent you and Khwaabi into the marketplace for a few supplies, where you met your past face to face. Although you had suspected that Arvala-7 was safe, you knew that nowhere was truly safe from the First Order. There had been a few patrols through the town, but Marsa had made her business from drifters, and she knew to turn around when she saw them, in order to keep her workers safe. Only this time, Marsa wasn’t with you, and the patrol had blocked off the major exits from the marketplace. The only way out was through their checkpoint.

“What are you doing?” Khwaabi asked as you stopped suddenly, grabbing onto his forearm. He followed your petrified gaze to the marketplace entrance and laughed softly. “Come on, they’re just making sure we aren’t stealing or speaking ill of the First Order, we’ll be fine.” He tried to keep moving, even pulling you along gently, but when you remained planted to the dirt he paused. “Y/N? What is it?”

“I can’t be seen by them,” you said quietly. A million questions raced through Khwaabi’s mind, but he knew he couldn’t ask them now. He looped his arm around yours and pulled you to the opposite end of the market, behind a stall that was selling dark purple fruit.

“What’s going on?” he asked. He was often joking and smiling, but he was serious now, more serious than you had ever seen him before. You were grateful for it.

“I can’t be seen by them.”

“Why? We’ve got nothing to hide,” he said simply. You let out a deep sigh and looked up into his kind, golden eyes. “Does this have something to do with your mysterious pirating past?” he asked, garnering a gentle laugh from you.

“Not exactly pirating, but yeah,” you said reluctantly. “If they see me, I’m as good as dead. I’m on the run from the First Order, and the Resistance,” you added after a pause. Khwaabi’s eyes were wide but he only nodded, his long dark braids bouncing easily.

“Alright. I can get us out of here, but you have to promise you’ll finally tell me about your past. Once we’re safe and all.” You rolled your eyes but nodded.

“I promise.”

“Great. There’s a fence behind that shop down there,” he said, pointing to a small building a couple feet down. Easy enough to hop, just have to make sure no one’s watching. And then we’ll have to run.”

“Run?”

“Well, the First Order ships are parked on that side of the marketplace. If any of them see us we’re as good as dead, so we better make quick work of it.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time running for my life, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said. Khwaabi smiled at you widely.

“I’m very much looking forward to hearing your story, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You made your way down to the shop and Khwaabi helped you over the fence. He was right, the First Order ships weren’t far off. The second he dropped down next to you, the two of you ran and didn’t stop until you got back to Marsa’s place. She gave you each a questioning eyebrow, but went back into her house a moment later.

“Alright, pirate, now it’s time for your story.”

“Let’s get some water first,” you said breathlessly. Khwaabi nodded his head and followed you into your quarters. Once you had each caught your breath, you began telling Khwaabi the long-winded story of your life, up until the horrendous meeting you had with Poe back on Taris. Khwaabi didn’t speak or move for a while, but when he finally did stand, he picked up the pillow at the end of your tiny bed and hit you over the head with it.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“Because I would kill to live your life, Y/N! You’re a princess!”

“A queen,” you muttered quietly, trying not to interrupt his rant.

“You have love! The only thing standing in your way is you!”

“That’s not true, there are my parents, the First Order—”

“You’re just making excuses, Y/N,” he said, sitting down across from you. “You could make a real change. The only reason the Resistance and the First Order are looking for you is because you can make a difference, and you’re running away because you’re scared.”

“I’m so sick of people saying that!” you said, standing up and beginning to pace. “I’m not scared, I’m just thinking practically. I can see where this all is going to go.”

“I think you’re just being paranoid. You have an entire family within the Resistance ready to fight next to you and keep you safe,” he said. You sighed and looked away from him. “Look, I only just heard your story, so maybe I don’t know everything, but it sounds like you ran away instead of fighting.”

“Isn’t that what you did? When you left Kashyyyk?” you asked, turning to look back at him. He frowned at you.

“Not at all. I am fighting. I’m fighting to make my life better so that I am deserving of Leoro. Once I reach that goal, I’ll go back. Are you really telling me you’re going to run forever?”

“I don’t have a choice,” you said.

“You could go back and fight. Fight for your home and your love and your life.”

“You know, I think you’d fit in really well with the Resistance. They all really like giving long, inspirational speeches,” you said. He laughed and nodded his head.

“Maybe I can check it out with you.”

“I can’t go back now. Not after everything I said to Poe,” you said, shaking your head.

“No, you can’t go back now. Not with nothing,” Khwaabi said. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“And what exactly am I supposed to go back with?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I just learned your story. But I’m sure you’ll figure out what you can do to fix all of this mess with the First Order and the Resistance and your husband,” he said, looking at you with kind eyes. You couldn’t hold his gaze for long and looked away, nodding your head gently.

“Thank you, Khwaabi. For getting me out of town and for this.”

“No problem. Now, that run was exhausting, so I’m going to get some rest. If you decided to leave for the Resistance, at least wake me up before you go.”

“Will do,” you said with a laugh.

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Khwaabi had really expected his talk to work, because the next day he was so surprised to see you, he nearly choked on his breakfast, and for the rest of the day he didn’t speak to you. You understood his frustrations, but he had only just heard your story. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of your situation. There was no way you could go back to the Resistance. There was too much pain there. In your head you could hear Khwaabi saying ‘There’s pain here, too,’ but you elected to ignore it.

It took a couple days, but eventually Khwaabi came back to you, acting normally. He never brought up what you told him, although sometimes when he would talk about his love for Leoro, he would give you strange looks. You realized he only did this when your mind started to wander off, but it was hard to listen to him talk about his gorgeous man, when you had once had one, too.

You figured that Khwaabi knew what he was doing, but you didn’t much care. The longer you stayed away from the Resistance, the harder it got to keep on course and remember why you left. Of course, every night you went to bed, knowing that if your dreams slipped to Ren’s again, you’d have to be on the run once more. But listening to Khwaabi talk about love and life made you feel a little bit at home, and let you remember what it was like to have those hopes.

A week after the incident in the marketplace, you and Khwaabi were back, picking up a parcel for Marsa. You had briefly told her what happened, so she had been the one to make the last few trips. She had said that the First Order was gone, but when you arrived in town, you could see they were back.

“How in the fuck?” you muttered under your breath, making Khwaabi laugh.

“That’s not how princesses should talk,” he said with a laugh.

“I’m not a princess,” you said, trying to turn around. Khwaabi grabbed your arm and kept you walking forward. “What are you doing?”

“They’re looking at us,” he said, smiling so it didn’t look like he was talking to you, “If we turn around they’ll come after us. Just keep your head down. They’re not even doing a checkpoint. We’ll be fine.”

You nodded your head and quickly took hold of his hand, holding it tight as you passed the Stormtroopers. They looked you over quickly but said nothing. You let out a sigh once you were away from them, but that moment of relief was quickly squandered when you heard a scream.

You and Khwaabi both turned around to see a young girl, no more than sixteen, on the ground. Two Stormtroopers were standing over her, mocking her. It was clear that they had just hit her, seeing the way she held her stomach. As they geared up to take another hit, Khwaabi pushed the things in his hands into yours and raced forward.

“Stop! What has this girl done?” he asked, pulling back the hand of one of the Stormtroopers.

“Keep walking,” the Stormtrooper muttered, pulling his hand away.

“She is just a girl! Surely, there is another way you can get what you need from her,” he said.

“I said, keep walking,” the Stormtrooper said, much firmer this time. Khwaabi stood his ground, and you watched, along with the group that had gathered around the commotion, as the Stormtrooper hit Khwaabi across the face.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the other Stormtrooper said. They marched off, and just like that, it was over. The crowd started to clear and Khwaabi helped the girl stand. You walked over to them and Khwaabi gave you a cold look.

“What did they want from you?” he asked the girl.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head, “They said I gave them a disrespectful look, and then all of the sudden I was on the ground.” Khwaabi shook his head and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you.”

“Forget about it. Any respectable person would have done the same.” You thought for a moment that the cold look he gave you before might have been a mistake, but it was clear from his tone, Khwaabi was furious with you, and you had no idea why.

The rest of your visit to the marketplace was silent. You passed by the same Stormtroopers on your way out, but if they recognized you or Khwaabi, they didn’t care.

“Okay, I can tell you’re mad. Can we talk about it?” you asked once you had cleared the town and were on your long walk back to Marsa’s.

“Why didn’t you step in?” he asked, looking at you with a new look in his eyes. Possibly disappointment?

“What was I supposed to do? They’re two Stormtroopers, I have no weapons—”

“Neither did I. Neither did that girl.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I told you, I’m running from the First Order, I’m not about to get tangled up with a couple of deadbeat Stormtroopers just because . . .”

“Just because what? Finish that sentence, Y/N. Just because an innocent girl was getting beaten? Just because your best friend now has a black eye?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I would say best friend . . .”

“Y/N!” he yelled, grabbing hold of your arms. “You can make a difference. You can help millions of people. And yet you run because you only care about yourself.”

“That’s not true,” you said, taking a step back.

“I don’t know, what I do know is that if I had the power you do, the influence you do, I wouldn’t be hiding out. I’d be facing down those bullies and sticking up for the innocent.” You looked at him with wide eyes but he only shrugged. “It’s whatever. Like you’ve said, I don’t know the whole story. Maybe hiding out here in the middle of nowhere is the best idea.”

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You knew he was right. You knew Poe was right. The second you had stormed away from the Resistance, you knew you were in the wrong. Running away was the move of cowards, and you had never wanted to be one of those. It took some time for you to admit it, but you were a coward. You were completely afraid of what would happen if you did fight, if you did everything in your power to help bring peace back to the galaxy, and it was all for naught.

When you ran, you thought you were doing what was best for Poe, what was best for you. You realized now that you were punishing everyone you cared about because of a decision by your family and Broden.

When you became queen, it was because you thought you would be helping people. You knew you had done good during your term, even if the whole thing was concocted by Broden. But now, you felt that the only thing you could bring to the Resistance was your connection with Kylo Ren.

You sat up in bed immediately.

Why had you been so stupid? The connection with Ren had been the thing that caused you to become queen, and the reason you were finally able to figure out Broden’s betrayal. If there was anything else you could offer the Resistance, it was your connection with Kylo Ren.

When you rushed into Khwaabi’s room, he was already up.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re right. I’ve been selfish, but there is something I can do for the Resistance, for the galaxy, but I’m going to need your help.”

“And why should I help you?” he asked. He was teasing, but it was also clear that he was still mad about what had happened in the marketplace.

“Because if you get me to where I’m going, you can keep my ship. That’ll get you somewhere nicer than here, where you can make a life for you and Leoro.” He looked at you for a minute but then smiled.

“Alright, where are we going?”

“Kylo Ren’s fortress on Byss.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction

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iamdorka · 5 years

Text

The making of the new album

I wanted to post this hours ago but the wifi at the train station decided to be a bitch so I try to post it now. If it gets posted two times please love this one more, okay? 🙈

So as the release of his new album is closer and closer I decided to write something about it. Hope you will like it.

The making of the new album (headcanon)

- He was really excited about this one, because after opening about the demons in his head in Hotel Diablo on this one he really could show his true passion, every piece of it, without any restriction. He just kept pushing himself towards his truest self and you had to admire that, because his work was his life. Also he worked with some of the finest artist (including literally your heroes from your childhood and that got you even more excited if it was even possible).

- He loved when you were around in the studio even if you had nothing to do with music, your presence calmed him down even in his darkest moments. He needed that firm point in his life, he needed you.

- And you loved being there with him because even if listening to music, pretending you are sometimes Beyonce or other time the fearless frontgirl of a rockband like Hayley Williams was your only way engaging with music, seeing him creating his vision with his mates gave you a whole new understanding of literally everything. He was able to show you new things even after 2 years being in a relationship with him and you loved him for it, lived for it.

- You saw him at his lowest but also the highest point while creating this masterpiece and you were with him all along. You supported him and it meant the world to him, you knew it. He showed you that with words, with cute little actions.

- Yeah, you have to admit that sometimes it was a bit too much and it was hard for you to accept everything not that you should’ve accept everything. Even if you knew that he was working on a precious piece of his soul you weren’t blind. You saw that he was suffering inside. He needed to do this but the ache in your heart still was there it was really frightening sometimes.

- This creative process was a roller coaster for everybody. For him and for you too.

- He was overworking himself and sometimes he didn’t even notice it, which hurt you even more because half of your soul was him and seeing him like that was terrible. After creating and living in Hotel Diablo you knew it would come to this but really living it was different.

- You spent a lot of time alone too because he was on his feet 24/7 and slowing down never was an option for him. Yeah you knew that he was in love with music (beside you) but it still hurt like hell when you just couldn’t find him next to you when you needed him, when you were expecting him to be there.

- Even if you were with him in the last 2 years you still couldn't humanly imagine how he could manage being up and awake ALL THE TIME. Oh yeah... you knew how he could do that but you preferred not to think about it. He knew that his health wasn't at its peak and that you were mad at him because of it. He didn't accept worries from nobody... but you were different. Cliche or not.

- Sometimes but nowadays most of the time you just wanted to slap his beautiful face to beat some sense into him even if you knew it was a mission impossible. But not just he was who needed his other half... you needed him too and didn't want to lose him, not in a million years.

- The day when he finally showed the finished album to his label he wanted you to be there with him but your boss thought otherwise because he sent you to San Francisco the day before for a 2 day job. Your heart ache because you really wanted to be there with him and even if he didn't admit it he was a little but disappointed too.

- So you did everything humanly possible to get the work done in the shortest imaginable time, that's how you ended up on a train at 4am without getting any sleep just to get back in time to Los Angeles to be with him. He didn't know anything about it.

- You didn't even get home, you just cought an uber and with your suitcase and everything you were headed to Interscope.

- The only person who knew about your surprise appearance was Slim and he knew if he told anything to Colson you would gladly kill him with your bare hands without even thinking or blinking.

- You never got out of a car this fast because you got there exactly 5 minutes before them. (It was 10am and having Colson up at this time was a miracle to begin with but you did your own miracle too to be there on time.)

- 'I thought I will have to show them myself the album. You are late' when he entered the floor where the conference room was, you waited him there casually sitting on the couch not showing that it was hard even to breathe for you because you had to be that fast and you just fell to the couch a minute before. You tried to play it cool so you did.

- Not even saying a word as you stood up he brought you in his arms and hugged you like he hadn't seen you in ages. He had his girl with him.

- 'Am I dreaming?' he kissed your cheek as he let himself see your smiling face. For a brief moment he forgot why he was in that building.

- 'I know I'm your dream girl... but no, you are not.' you answered him smiling, biting your lip as you laced your fingers together not engaging in any pda because first: you two hated that, second: you had company and he had work to do, important work. 'But maybe I'm... because I haven't slept in the last 48 hours and I'm running on like 4 coffees' you murmured and when Slim gave you your new coffee you corrected yourself taking a sip from it. 'five and counting... '

- 'Good luck. I'M PROUD OF YOU AND I LOVE YOU' you told this to his lips as you sat down on the couch and he took his seat at the end of the big conference table. Everyone was ready, more than ready.

- He was living his best life and your heart was full of love watching him because he was enjoying every moment of this. He could not stop moving, you could see that he was already feeling himself at the live shows and he proved that too because he even got on the table dancing, rocking his soul to his new goodies.

- It really got your heart beat faster and even if you realised that some of the people didn't really appreciate your boyfriend that much, you couldn't care less because you could see how proud he was of his work. Sweat and blood. It was his, the best one yet.

- You even recorded him dancing on the table because it was the funniest shit ever and you knew his fans would appreciate it later. And you loved feeding them with quality content.

- When the presentation was over he could not hold himself back because when you stood up, wanting to congratulate him again (after all the other people) he picked you up and he was spinning with you not letting you to touch the ground. He was in an euphoric state and he didn't hide him.

- 'You are my world. Thanks for being here' he murmured to your neck and finally he put you down.

- 'I really am proud of you' you repeated yourself and you were glad Slim got closer to you as the people in the room started chatting about everything what was coming.

- 'You got it?' you asked him and he nodded without a word.

- 'Got what?' Colson asked cluelessly looking at you both.

- 'Nothing.' you replied as you asked him for his phone. 'But you just held yours a minute ago' he stated the truth. 'But I want... yours.' You asked politely again and he did finally what you asked him and without even thinking you gave immediately Slim the phone.

- 'Okay... I don't understand you. What are you up to?' he asked smirking at you.

- 'You... and me are up to catching a flight. You can't say no because I will handcuff you to me if you start to rebel. We are going on a little vacation right now.'

- 'You need this bro' Slim stated too watching as you didn't let Colson's hand from yours. 'I already fought with her because of this... and I didn't even have the slightest chance either... nor have you, so... just accept it'

- 'You really have a handcuff with you?' he asked the right question.

- 'Just bought a new pair in San Francisco, to make sure everything would be fine' he threatened him but you were sure that he would even enjoy if you used it right there and then.

- 'Ohh... it will be more than fine' he looked at you with the hungriest smirk on his lips.

- 'Please... get a room or whatever, but catch your flight because I think I'm gonna throw up in my mouth if I have to be with you two two more seconds' Slim said and you already were stealing the star of the moment leaving the place as fast as you arrived there.

- Maybe he had other plans, maybe the others did too but with the help of your very good friends you made sure everything would be okay. They agreed that he deserved this getaway before everything was coming and A LOT was coming. He needed that recharge and so did you.

- You managed to rent a beach house probably in the middle of nowhere and that place was exactly what you two needed. No internet, no people just the two of you and the calming sound of the ocean.

- Yeah, both of you were and still are the people who can't really sit in a place for more than a minute, because you had to do something but once in a while it was good just to... be. Because you just bought 'tickets to my downfall' and before all the craziness you had to remind him that he is a human being and if he loses his power he could not spread the energy to anybody else... not even himself.

Tag list (write me if you wanna be on it❤)

@no-shxt-sherl @kiss-yall @bakerkells @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @mgk-rooklover1997 @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @southernmgkpunk @thegunnerkelly @findingmyth @painkillerash @rosesinmars @rosegoldrichie @pinksocktingz @itjustkindahappenedreally @cclynn88 @bluehairedtracii

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