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mysdrymmumbles · 4 years ago

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Steadfast - October Writing Prompt

Thank you to @toastvogel for suggesting Chyrus. He is the best paragon <3

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The Archon sits on no throne, but even without one, many kyrian often see her as a more distant figure. It is understandable. Even if she wasn’t a god, she is the leader of the realm. By her will is Bastion maintained, and by her hand are the ascended directed. There is more work that goes into doing even those two dealings than most will ever know, and she does so much more than that. It is a wonder she ever has time to address any of her subjects.

In that way, Chyrus can’t help but wonder—hope, really—whether she is at least somewhat protected from some of what is happening right now. She is not at the temples, watching their brethren fall before each other’s blades. She can feel the realm wither around her, in spite of her will, but she cannot see how that crushes the spirits of those relying on her unwavering resolve. She is spared their doubts.

Until those doubts become too powerful.

And then she is blindsided with the betrayal.

Because most anyone else could have seen something like this coming. Perhaps not on such a grand scale, but there were signs, clear as the skies over Bastion.

Chyrus frowns as the sound of a broken chime reaches his ears. With a quick inspection, he finds the culprit underfoot, half crushed under his large toes. Kneeling, he picks them up gingerly, the lute-like chimes tiny in his palm, and the ring they used to hang on broken.

It’s hard to imagine what could have damaged it so. Someone getting thrown into it and their weapon catching it just right? Or had one of their many attackers been so overcome with rage that the sound of the gentle instrument filled them with such animosity that they wanted to make sure they would never play again?

There has been so much heartache in Bastion throughout the eons.

Bastion’s pride is its noble cause, but perhaps it is because he does not cling to such emotion that Chyrus has always been able to see the melancholic undercurrent. The broken hearts sent back to Oribos to be judged anew because they could not relinquish the memories of their mortal lives has always been there. Friends and students alike have ‘fallen short’ over the years. He wonders where they’ve gone, sometimes—those he remembers.

And there are those who have done as was required of them, who sometimes quietly peruse their old memories, watching the foreign stories play out with a quiet resignation that their sacrifice was for the greater good. Still, sacrifices are nothing if they are not mourned from time to time.

As Chyrus peers around to see if there are any other pieces of the little chimes to be gathered—to be given to someone with smaller hands who needs so desperately something to focus on other than the present—the sound of large wings grow closer.

He catches the last bit of pipe beneath his foot as Thenios lands, unintentionally scattering the debris left in the forsworn’s latest attack with his great wings.

Chyrus offers him a word of greeting before picking up the chime. It wouldn’t do to forget it, and even though there was no proof of it, Chyrus has often felt like little objects could have a feel to them. They could know when they are broken and appreciate when they are repaired.

It’s a notion Visephone smiles to think of, and one that Xandria will mull over before irritably asking questions that have no answers. Simple things that cannot be done in front of their charges, but are held precious in those fleeting moments when the paragons are alone together.

This is not going to be such a moment, Chyrus can tell, if only by the thin line of Thenios’ lips.

That doesn’t stop Chyrus from giving him a simple smile himself. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Thenios stands tall and firm, armor shining in Bastion’s radiance.

That in itself makes Chyrus’ heart hurt. Thenios does not don his armor for any occasion.

Or he didn’t. Not before the forsworn, before Devos’ betrayal. Though he would never voice it, Chyrus often suspects that Devos fall from grace affected Thenios the most severely of them all, hitting him harder than even the Archon.

How often had the two visited each other’s temples in casual attire to sprawl out together and read. Thenios usually brought the scrolls and books, and Devos was always pleased to see whatever it was that he had for her. She’d once told him he could make even the driest, most technical of reports sound fascinating.

Chyrus can still remember finding them curled up together, feathers fluffed up as they read through something that wasn’t work related, and how Xandria had hounded them about how adorable they were for weeks after, insisting to Visephone that she had missed something absolutely precious.

When it was just them, of course. When they have those fleeting moments where they can simply be people instead of unyielding leaders.

Thenios hasn’t taken his armor off since Devos’ death.

The paragon motions for Chyrus to follow him, and they both take flight, soaring out into the fields where they will not be overheard.

Their feet have barely touched into the soft grasses when Thenios begins to speak, unable to contain himself any longer. His voice is a mix of its usual matter-of-fact tone used to inspire confidence among his aspirants and something else, something almost accusatory. “The Maw Walker has recovered some records for me. Salvaging what the forsworn are so hasty to destroy in their hunt for whatever they think matters more.”

“We are fortunate to have such help—”

“They brought me this.”

There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the record in Thenios’ palm, but Chyrus knows what it will be before it plays. Funny that he was just remembering this aspirant as he surveyed the damage to his temple. She had been close to ascension when she fell. She came to him, telling him that the path had taken everything from her, made her into someone she didn’t recognize.

She had been the latest in a long line of those who were not meant for the path after all.

Chyrus listens to his own disembodied voice recount the incident and remembers musing about whether there was another way for those within Bastion, a way that didn’t require a complete abandonment of the past.

The reasons for the path’s current route were valid, of course. No good came from ferrymen who judged the souls they collected.

It was a hard path, but it was one that had served them well for almost all of eternity. And if it weren’t for the lack of judgment in Oribos…

Chyrus makes no offer to take the record from Thenios, more than a little sure that if he did try, it would be denied him. Instead, he waits for Thenios to make whatever point he is there for. A chiding perhaps that such a thing was left where aspirants could find it?

“Did she ever talk to you?”

The question is a surprise, a reminder that Chyrus cannot predict everything his fellow paragon will think or do, and it hangs between them.

“No,” Chyrus finally replies. The word feels cruel somehow in its succinctness. “The first—and only—time I heard of Devos’ dissatisfaction with the path was when she told us of Uther’s injury.”

Thenios flinches at her name. No armor can protect him from his memories, and Chyrus has been worried about what will happen to him. Forgetting their fallen brethren will be nigh impossible. Their paths were far too entwined and to take her away would leave him with so much emptiness…

Chyrus has already lost so many, his heart breaks at the mere of thought of who else may fall, of who might be left a shell of their former selves because of hearbreak they can’t overcome.

“She told me.” Thenios voice cracks at the last word. He is quiet a moment before clearing his throat, his composure regained. “I told her to be careful the sort of thing she said.” His chin inclines, gaze skyward. “I did not think…I did not know that you had wondered about this very thing.”

“Haven’t we all?” Chyrus offers gently. None of them are above doubts, after all. He reaches out and lightly places a hand on Thenios’ arm, a connection his friend so clearly needs. The action startles Thenios out of his thoughts.

“If I’d listened…if I had let her talk…hadn’t let her feel so—” Thenios curls his fingers around the record, practically crushing it in his hand as he lowers it to his side, fist shaking. “How could she have… the Jailer.”

His voice cracks again, and this time he stops talking, a tremor in his jaw as he clenches it.

With a quick step, Chyrus reaches out and wraps Thenios in a hug, ignoring the way the bits of armor poke into his bare arms. There is hesitation, and then Thenios grips Chyrus back, clinging to him like a drowning man in a stormy sea.

There is not enough time. There may never be, but here, now, Chyrus is acutely aware of how damaged his friend is and how there are people who need both of them to be unbreakable pillars.

It is cruel that he can offer Thenios so little of his time. Chyrus makes himself a silent vow that he will be there for his friend, to properly mourn what they have lost when things are finally set right.

When Thenios pulls away, a shiver runs through his feathers and for a moment, Chyrus thinks he may take his helm off.

Instead, he takes Chyrus’ hand, surprised to find the tiny bits of broken chimes already there as he places the record among them. “I would hate the forsworn to get this and think you would be a good target to convert.”

Chyrus chooses not to point out that they have already tried. “Thank you, my friend.”

Thenios turns away and then pauses, looking back at him. “If you need someone to listen to your doubts…”

Chyrus wants to tell him that Devos’ fall is not his fault, but there is no way for words to reach, much less ease, the guilt there. Instead, he gives Thenios a nod and a gentle smile. “Of course.”

Thenios attempts something like a goodbye, but when he can’t trust his voice to hold steady, he instead dismisses himself without ceremony. Chyrus does not insult him by watching his retreat, instead turning his attention back to his temple.

There is much to be done.

#world of warcraft #chyrus #my boi #thenios #devos #thenios x devos #kyrian #Chyrus and Thenios are bros #the best bros

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maybedefinitely404 · 5 years ago

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Day 23: Dukeceit

I’m very aware it’s October. But I will get all these prompts done!

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 23 - At a certain age you switch bodies with your soulmate for 24 hours. (I may have changed this one slightly, too.)

Content warnings: kidnapping mention, food/coffee mentions, homophobia mentions (though none is really seen), just so much caffeine.

The first thing Janus noticed when he woke up was that this was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Which, to be fair, was an accurate reaction, seeing as he was in the wrong room.

His initial thought was that he’d been kidnapped, but no, that couldn’t be right. It was just another bedroom, not a basement or a van or whatever kidnappers used. It was a regular, teenage looking bedroom, with clothes littering the floor and the desk, large posters haphazardly stuck at every angle on the wall, and a phone charging on the nightstand next to him. So, definitely not a kidnapping.

When his mind finally cleared from his post-waking haze, he sighed in resignation. Apparently the universe had decided that today was the day he would switch bodies with his soulmate, on the day he had specifically set aside to study for a huge biology test that would make or break his grade in the class. Hopefully the school took pity on him and let him redo it. If they believed him, that is… he wasn’t exactly the most honest student.

Groaning, he threw the blankets off him and stumbled to the full body mirror on the door, inspecting the reflection. His soulmate was cute, he’d give him that, but it did nothing to disperse the internal confusion at seeing someone else looking back at him in the mirror. It also felt super weird to be attracted to… well, himself, at the moment, technically? He pushed a strand of white hair, dyed lighter than the rest of the black locks, out of his face and leaned forward, trying to decipher if the eye color was brown or murky green, when the door flew open and hit him in the face.

He yelped upon hitting the floor, rubbing his forehead, and glaring up at the intruder.

“Who the hell are you?” He hissed before he could stop himself, meeting the eyes of a very confused guy standing in the doorway. Blinking, he looked back into the mirror, and then back to the newcomer, wondering for a second if he was hallucinating. It took him far too long to remember the concept of twins, mentally facepalming as the other spoke.

“What do you mean, who the hell am I? Really, not one of your best pranks, Remus.”

“I’m not pranking you. I’m not Remus.”

The other merely blinked, staring at him blankly, until a look of realization crossed his face. “Oooohh! You’re his-”

“Yeah,” Janus snarked, getting back to his feet, “I am. Who are you?”

“Uhm, I’m Roman. Your- I mean, his brother. Remus’ brother. What’s your name?”

He brushed nonexistent dirt off his pajama top, an old and ripped oversized t-shirt, and responded, “Janus.”

“Janice? Huh,” Roman wrinkled his brow, casting a look behind him before stepping in and closing the door behind him, “I could have sworn Remus was gay.”

“I’m not a girl, you deflated airbag. I’m named after a Roman god, and I am very much male.”

Roman was at a loss for words, watching Janus approach Remus’ closet and look through it scrutinizingly. “He has good taste.”

“That’s what you call good taste?” The brother asked, peering over his shoulder at the chaos of ripped cloth and mesh and leather. He was frankly shocked there was any left in the closet, seeing as there was what appeared to be enough for a whole other wardrobe on the floor.

“I wouldn’t personally wear it. I’m more classy than that. But,” He picked out a weathered jean vest, adorned with pins and spikes, “Hot.”

Roman tried to hide his eye roll. “You’ll get along with him well. I came up to get you- er, Remus, but now you, I guess. For breakfast.”

Right on time, a woman’s voice carried up through the house, calling for them. Janus shrugged and followed Roman out the door, abandoning his discovery on a chair and pulling up the first hoodie from the floor. He didn’t generally like to wear oversized things, so he was surprised that the almost blanket-like garment was so comfortable.

“Ah, took you long enough. It’s getting cold.” Janus took in the downstairs area, a small kitchen and dining room in one, leading off into a living room. It was all comfortable, the sunshine raging through the picture window on the wall closest to the table, highlighting the steam rising off the food.

Janus stood at the bottom of the stairs as Roman took his seat opposite his parents, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“Remus, sweetie, everything okay?”

For a solid second, he forgot that he was supposed to be Remus and just stared blankly at the woman who had spoken.

“That’s not Remus. It’s his soulmate.” Roman said absently around a bite of food.

Their mother’s expression turned to delight, standing up immediately and engulfing Janus in a hug that he didn’t return, “Oh, welcome, darling! It’s so nice to meet you! Join us for breakfast, and you can go about contacting Remus later. Sound good?”

“I guess.” He didn’t seem to have a choice either way as he was ushered to sit next to Roman, his plate pushed a little closer to him by the mom. The dad was just taking him in, chewing slowly, and everything in Janus was yelling at him to look away. But Janus was never one to shy away from a stare off, so he kept eye contact, hoping that Remus had the same glare that his own face did. He must have, since the man finally looked back down to his plate.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Jeez, did this woman always have to use pet names?

“Janus.” He responded simply, pulling in his first bite of food. It was good, he’d admit, but his own house never had these kinds of… family get-togethers, and to say he was uncomfortable was an understatement.

“Janice? Huh, must be weird being in a boy’s body, yeah?” Her face clearly conveyed that it was supposed to be a joke, or maybe some fucked up icebreaker, but he was more annoyed by his name.

“I’m actually-” He was cut off by a sharp kick to the shin, coughing slightly to stifle a curse, and turned to Roman expectantly. The glare out of the corner of his eyes was something Janus wasn’t anticipating, same with the almost imperceivable shake of his head. The message was clear. Forcing a small smile on his face, he turned back to the parents, who were still wholly focused on him. “Yeah, it’s weird for sure.”

Usually, lies slipped off his tongue with no hesitation. He had to learn to survive, growing up as he had. But this one felt wrong, and so utterly bizarre, that it seemed to burn the roof of his mouth. If that’s what it took though, and he was very sure that Roman’s cutting him off had been to prevent outing Remus, he could take that.

The rest of the meal was filled with small talk between him and the parents, in which he learned that he wasn’t all too far from his own house, where Remus would be waking up. Even so, he didn’t recognize the neighborhood he was in. It was definitely nicer than from where he lived, though, and he doubted that Remus would know where he was either. Poor guy.

As soon as it seemed socially accepted to leave the table, he did so, loading his dishes into the washer and dashing upstairs. It was only nine in the morning and he was exhausted, dropping onto the bed and noticing the little glow in the dark dinosaurs on the ceiling for the first time. Rather, the remains of glow in the dark dinosaurs. Remus must have taken scissors to them, separating the heads and attaching them to different bodies. He was specifically entranced by a T-Rex with a Pterodactyl head when Remus’ mother’s words flooded back into his mind, and he remembered that he should probably try to get into contact with Remus. One look at the phone on the nightstand, though, and he was getting up with a groan and padding down the hallway.

It wasn’t hard to distinguish Roman’s room from the other doors; it was the only one with his headshot taped to the front with a star under it, his name written in bold letters across it like a Hollywood star. Janus rolled his eyes and knocked on it, walking in at Roman’s call.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Why?” Roman gave him a hard side eye from where he was splayed across his bed, a script in his hands that he was most likely trying to memorize.

“I want to call Remus. And unless you know the password to his phone, I can’t get on it.”

“Ah. In full honesty, I don’t even want to know what the cretin has for a password.” With no further convincing, he handed Janus his unlocked phone and went back to scanning the papers, quietly muttering lines to himself while giving Janus the occasion glance.

He typed in his own number and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“It’s odd hearing my own voice through the phone,” were Janus’ first words to his soulmate. The voice on the other line, his voice, gasped.

“Oh shit! Ooooh shit! I would have called, but I couldn’t remember my own number!”

“That’s Remus for you.”

“Stop eavesdropping,” Janus snarled, taking a step away.

“If it’s loud enough to hear, is it really eavesdropping?”

Janus lowered the volume of the phone in response, flipping Roman off. “Hi, Remus, I presume.”

“I see you’ve met Roman. Pain in the ass, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Okay, first things first. You’re hella hot.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Second, where am I?”

Janus chuckled, which sounded odd coming from vocal chords he wasn’t used to. “About twenty minutes away from your house. Did you want to meet somewhere to switch back?”

“Fuck yes. I want my teeth back.”

“Your-” Janus ran his tongue along his teeth, noticing for the first time that they felt different than what he was used to. The general shape, the curve, it was all new, and odd, and suddenly it was all he could think about. “Why the hell did you have to say that?”

Remus snickered, “Whoopsies.”

“How about Edison’s Bakery, on Westland? It’s pretty much in the middle.”

Roman gave him a thumbs up, mouthing ‘good choice’, at the same time as Remus almost squealed in glee. Apparently, he liked the place.

“I’ll take that as a yes. In half an hour?”

“Yessss.”

“Before you hang up, what’s your phone password?” He physically recoiled at the response, earning a snort from Roman. “I’m not typing that.”

“That’s the only way you’re getting into my phone.”

“Hold on, how did you get into mine?” Remus only chuckled, and the line went dead. Janus sighed and tossed Roman his phone back, hitting him squarely in the chest. “Not much of a conversationalist, is he?”

“Remus abides to the laws of social constructs about as well as he abides to the laws of nature. That is to say, not at all.”

“What should I wear? When I go to meet him?”

Roman looked taken aback. It made him scowl in embarrassment, rolling his eyes at the other’s face.

“I don’t know what Remus likes to wear, dumbass. Don’t get a big head.”

“Uh, the ripped grey jeans with the patch on the thigh and Green Day shirt are his favorite. He usually wears something meshy underneath, but-”

“I’m not wearing mesh.”

“Figured.”

Like all of Remus’ clothing, Janus learned very quickly, the Green Day shirt was also full of holes. Whether his closet had been raided by moths, or it was just his aesthetic, he didn’t know. He could see why mesh would go well under it, but there was no way he would stoop to that level, so he threw on the jean vest he’d first seen and went back to Roman’s room to get approved.

Deciding against seeing the parents again (Janus didn’t understand his instinctual hatred for them, but it was strong), he scaled the drainpipe outside Remus’ window and used his soulmate’s phone for directions to the cafe (despite the disgust he felt at typing in the password), since he still didn’t know the exact directions from this strange neighbourhood. After deciphering the bus map, he hopped on the next one to arrive, grateful that he’d found enough spare change in Remus’ horribly unorganized wallet for bus fare.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous by the time he got to the cafe. He’d have thought his nerves would have eaten at him already, telling him to just turn around and live as Remus for the rest of his life, but they were surprisingly calm. There was just something about meeting a soulmate that didn’t mess with him. They were soulmates; they were kind of supposed to be perfect for each other. That’s the whole point.

It didn’t take long for him to spot himself in the almost empty bakery, propped up against the large window in a way he would never stand, tracing the patterns on the ceiling with his eyes. Janus sidled up to him- himself? The concept was enough to make his head spin- and, ignoring the slightly Inception-esque nausea of looking at his own body, smirked.

“You’re getting fingerprints all over the glass.”

Remus spun to him, grinning widely, and without further adieu, grabbed his hand. Janus’ vision tunneled before going completely black. A sound like an intense air rush overwhelmed him despite the fact that there was no wind, his ears popped almost painfully, and his mouth went completely dry, but when he opened his eyes again, he was staring back at Remus. Actually Remus. In his own body and everything.

“Oh, my teeth, how I missed you,” The taller crooned, making a show of running his tongue across the outside of his teeth.

“You’re odd.” Never before had Janus been so happy to hear his voice.

“That I am,” Remus said with too wide a grin, tilting his head to the counter. “I waited for you.”

“Glad you had the decency.”

“C’mon, Jay,” He tightened his grip on Janus’ hand, who was surprisingly okay with the nickname (despite having punched people for using it before), “I love their energy drinks.”

“Their what?” Janus had been going here since he was a little kid, and he knew for a fact they didn’t have energy drinks. The overtired barista heard him though, shooting him a look of pure disdain.

“That’s what he calls it. We like to call it the Abomination unto God. I don’t know how his heart doesn’t give out from it. One pump of every flavor, five shots of espresso, top it off with black coffee.”

“Is that legal?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Technically, I just ask for how many espresso shots they can fit in a cup. She was the one to limit it to five.”

“He asked a trainee on their first day working. They filled the whole cup with espresso.”

“I was vibrating.” Remus said dreamily, as if the memory was particularly fond. Despite Janus’ protests, Remus ordered his monstrosity of a drink, pouring at least three sugar packets into the cup to his rising horror, and sat down happily. It was almost enough to make him not want his coffee anymore, watching his soulmate take a long glug of the sludge in his cup.

“So, Janus,” He said when he finally put the half empty cup back onto the table, “How did you find my family?”

Somehow, Janus could sense the underlying question, taking a sip before responding. “They’re fine. Your parents rub me the wrong way, so to speak, and Roman’s a bit of a prick, but they’re fine.” He watched as Remus tossed his cup back again, fiddling with the sleeve on his cup, “I didn’t out you, by the way.”

That was enough to dampen the mood, Remus suddenly looking sullen as he stared at his hands. He blinked rapidly, taking a shaky breath before responding with a quiet thank you.

“They think I’m a girl. So that sucks.”

“They’re homophobic as shit.”

“I figured that out. Is Roman-”

“Gay as they come.”

Janus swirled his drink in his cup, watching the coffee stain the edges. “What will happen if they find out?”

“I don’t want to think about that. Getting disowned, at best.”

They both went silent, almost in solidarity. What could you say to that?

“Do you live alone?” Remus asked out of the blue, drinking more and having the audacity to chew the sugar from the bottom of the cup.

“My mom’s out of town for work right now.”

“Dad?”

“Never knew him.”

“Shit.”

“That about sums it up.” The two of them chuckled.

“So…” Remus started, finishing his concoction and throwing the cup into the garbage can by the sugar station, startling the barista. “We’re soulmates.”

“What led you to that conclusion?” He deadpanned, watching Remus as he took a slow sip of his coffee.

“Hardy har har.”

“Yes, we’re soulmates,” Janus agreed, “Must we make it complicated?”

“Eh,” The other said with a shrug, “Ride with the tide, see where it goes?”

“Works for me.” As Janus finished off the last of his coffee, he could see Remus’ hands had started to shake violently on the table, and could feel his leg bouncing up a storm underneath it.

“C’mon, get up,” Janus laughed, pulling Remus to his (somewhat unsteady) feet, “Let’s go to the park and get your energy out. Hopefully I can get you home before you crash.”

“Aww, you do care.” Remus cooed, laying his head on Janus’ shoulder as they left the shop.

“I believe that’s the point, dumbass. Now, I’ll race you to the park. Three, two, one, go!”

Remus took off at a full caffeine-induced sprint to the park just down the street as Janus continued his leisurely pace, laughing the further Remus got without realizing he wasn’t following. What had he gotten himself into?

Nothing he didn’t want, that was for sure.

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #dukeceit #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanderssides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction #ts soulmate au #soulmate september #even though its october #soulmateseptember #sanders sides soulmate au

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majesticbrownjawn · 5 years ago

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Halloween

This is a throwback and may be the first Erik-ish fic I wrote more than two years ago.

Reader (like me), isn’t a fan of Halloween, her boyfriend tries to change her outlook.

NSFW, boo.

I hate Halloween; you thought to yourself angrily as you woke up on the morning of October 31.

You had a bad experience when you were younger and had been scarred ever since. Your boyfriend Jason loved it, though, especially after Black folks decided we'd make Halloween all about the culture. He was excited about his costume but refused to share what it was. He said it was a surprise and would make you have a heart change about Halloween. You doubt that highly. One of his best friends threw a big party every year, so you were headed there tonight.

Thankfully it was Saturday, and you didn't have to rush to get yourself together after work. You wanted to have lunch with Jason because you knew even though you'd be at the party together tonight, he'd be too excited to pay you much attention.

————

"Hey babe, you wanna grab some lunch with me?"

"Aww, I'd love to, but I have to put some final touches on my costume."

"Really?! I haven't seen you all week Jason," you whined.

"I know, baby, but I gotta finish this. I promise I'll make it up to you tonight."

"Ok, fine," you said, disappointed, and hung up.

You waited until the last minute to decide what to be for Halloween because you and your boyfriend usually coordinated what you'd wear, but because he was being so extra this year and didn't want you to know who he was going as, you had to figure things out on your own. By the time you made it to the Halloween store, the only thing left in your size was the cliche slutty French maid costume. You bought it without trying it on and went on with your day. You were out later than anticipated, so you had to get home and get ready quickly. As you were putting on makeup, you heard your phone buzz. It was a text from Jason.

Hey baby, I'm running behind, so I won't be able to pick you up. I'm sorry. Text me when you're ready to leave, and I'll have an Uber pick you up and bring you.

He was really annoying you today.

You arrived to the party about an hour later and was surprised to see the mansion was already packed with people. You picked up your phone to call Jason but saw that you didn't have service. You walked around for a while, observing the detail in the partygoers’ costumes. A blue Avatar and headless horseman caught your eye and impressed you. After looking for Jason for much longer than anticipated, you decided to stop at one of the bars to get a drink. As you stood in the line, a rough tug at your hips and warm breath on the back of your neck startled you.

"What the fuck are you wearing?!" A deep voice said.

The slutty French maid costume lived up to its name. Your full breasts were spilling out of the top and the dress barely covered your ass. You added fishnet stockings to cover your deliciously thick thighs and to add to the overall hoe factor. You rarely wore heels, but tonight you decided on a pair of clear, stacked, 5” sandals. You knew Jason wouldn't like your body on display at the party, but he would just have to get over it tonight. He was lucky you’d even showed up.

The voice in your ear sounded familiar. You jerked away and looked at the man from the ground up. He wore combat boots, a pair of camo pants that hugged him in all the right places, a vest with metal breastplates, and a thin shirt that hugged his muscular arms perfectly. His hair was cut low all over, except for in the middle, where he had short dreads that sprung up and away from his head wildly. Two of his lower teeth were dipped in gold. The look in his eyes was one of pent up anger and rage.

Jason had transformed himself into your own personal Erik “Killmonger” Stevens.

"Jason?" You were surprised at how much he actually looked like Killmonger. He knew you had a not-so-secret thing for him, which is probably why he was so confident you'd love his costume this year. People frequently stopped Jason to tell him he resembled the fine ass actor who played your fictitious, homicidal movie boyfriend, but you never saw it--until tonight. He'd been growing his hair out since the summer, and you hated it so much that you barely let him touch you. You told him he could get some cut when he cut his hair, but he refused to, so you’d been finding other ways to get what you needed the last few months.

"Answer my question. Who gave you permission to come out dressed like a slut tonight?"

"OK, Jason, this is cute, but you not gon' talk to me like that."

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist so tight that your body involuntarily stepped back towards him to ease the pressure on your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You realized at that moment he wanted you to play along, so for the sake of your wrist and his fun, you went along with it.

"Nowhere Killmonger. I'm all yours," you smirked at him.

He grinned devilishly and replied, "You better be. And you can call me Erik."

He grabbed a bottle from behind the bar and instructed you to follow him until you reached a pair of plush couches in the atrium of the mansion. People were all around, dressed in costumes, seemingly entranced by the music and the free-flowing alcohol.

"Drink," he demanded.

He started to pour liquor in your mouth before you could respond.

"Wait!" Alcohol was all over your lips and chin and quickly trailing down your to your breasts.

He quickly sucked it off your neck and licked the top of your tits in plain sight.

"What are you doing, Jason?" You were angry and turned on at the same time.

"You got one more time to call me by another nigga's name. You understand me?"

You nodded your head and squirmed a little, realizing how wet you were.

"Now drink up. I want you loose tonight."

Erik wanted to dance, so you joined the crowd on the floor. His camo pants were thick, but you could feel how excited he was to be grinding behind you. In character or not, he hadn't touched you like this in months. As your bodies moved together to the music, one of his hands crept up your waist and palmed your breast. You loved the way his hands felt on you. He turned you around to face him and gave you the nastiest, sexiest kiss you’d ever experienced. He was really in character and you loved it.

After grinding on each other a while longer, he whispered in your ear, "I'm ready to fuck you."

Your eyes bulged out from your head and the tingling in your pussy that had been happening since you laid eyes on him tonight intensified. You were ready to fuck too.

"Go upstairs into the second door and take off everything. NOW." He dismissed you, confident you’d obey his order.

You trailed up the stairs and waited for him.

"The fuck you still got clothes on for?!" Your boyfriend was always firm, knowing how to lovingly put you in your place when I needed to be checked. But the tone he used tonight was different. It almost made you afraid of him.

"I'm going to teach you how to listen today. Bend over." You looked at him with questioning eyes to see if he was serious.

"Bend the fuck over," he repeated. You leaned onto the bed in front of you, ass straight up, listening like a good girl. He ran his hand down your ass before giving it a firm smack.

"When I tell you to do something, I mean that shit." You could hear the lust-filled anger in his voice.

You flinched in pain, but your mouth let out a needy moan, encouraging him to continue. He hit your jiggling backside again just before you heard the sound of your fishnet stockings ripping, leaving your ass fully exposed, save the thong you wore. You felt the string being pulled away from your center and onto your ass cheek.

His fingers circled your clit from behind, making you arch your back, pushing your pussy deep onto his fingers. You wanted them inside. You were so wet, and they’d slipped in a few times already.

"Not yet, baby," he growled. He replaced his fingers with his mouth.

He gave you a good tongue lashing from behind and licked up your slit towards your ass. He slowed down as he made his way upwards, and you tensed up, knowing where he was headed. Your boyfriend loved your body and gave all of himself to you when you had sex. He was attentive and genuinely desired to pleasure every part of your body, but you were never comfortable with him pleasing that part of you. It was still so taboo. Would it even feel good? With him thinking he was Killmonger tonight if he tried, would you be able to stop him? Would you want to stop him?

As his tongue reached that small region of flesh between your pussy and your other hole, your reflexes caused you to reach one of your hands back, trying to swat him away.

"Wait, Jas-Erik, whoever the fuck you are."

That was the worst thing you could have done. He grabbed the arm that tried to push him away and held it on top of your back with his hand, leaving you to balance all of your weight onto the single arm below you. His other hand firmly gripped your upper thigh and pulled you closer to his face.

"Ahhhhh, Erik." You were gone at the first stoke of his tongue in your no longer forbidden area.

He ate you mercilessly, giving you a pleasure you'd never experienced before. Your arm gave out on you, and you finally just planted your face into the bed. Your ass never moved, though; you were enjoying his tongue too much. He released your arm. The noises you were making was assurance you wouldn't try and stop him again. Your eyes rolled back in slow motion when he opened your pussy with his fingers pushing them deep into you and twisting them as he moved in and out of you, mouth still teasing your ass.

"Oh my gosh, Jason. Fuck!"

"What you just call me?" His words vibrated against your hole, sending a shiver up your spine. He smacked your ass hard. "What's my name?"

Smack.

Your body shuddered, but you didn't answer.

"Hmm?" He struck you again and laughed.

"Erik," I whispered. His fingers moved to your clit, sending shockwaves through your body, making your pussy jump from the inside.

"Louder," he demanded.

"MmmmErik!" Unintelligible sounds left your mouth as he stroked your clit and ate you from behind. Your climax overtook you, pushing the balls of your feet deep into the soft carpet and making your toes point back up towards the bed. Your body went stiff before going completely limp. You flopped stomach-first onto the bed below you.

He leaned over you on the bed and whispered, "We ain't done yet, turn over."

You lazily rolled over on your back as he carefully took off his costume. You watched his beautiful body in awe when he removed his shirt and revealed dozens of scars across his chest and abdomen. He was committed to this costume.

You were on autopilot and didn't realize you were pleasuring yourself until he growled, "That's a good girl, keep that kitty wet for me."

Your fingers continued massaging your pussy as he stood over you, stroking his dick and chewing his bottom lip. "You look so good, baby, rubbing your clit like that, but I thought I told you to take your clothes off." He reached down and snatched the top of your dress open, making your breasts spill out and sending buttons flying across the room.

"Yeah, that's better. Now play with them juicy ass titties." You stuck your fingers in your mouth, trying to get them as wet as possible before moving them in circles around your deep brown nipples. His dick slid up and down your slit as you continued giving special attention to your sensitive breasts.

Finally, he entered you with a loud grunt, spreading your walls with his healthy girth. You inched up the bed a little trying to adjust to him; it had been a little while.

"Uhun, where you going? Ain't no escaping this dick tonight." He cupped his hands under your thighs and lifted your ass off the bed, pushing himself further inside, using your legs to pull you up and down his juicy dick.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Erik."

"Feels better now?"

"Yes, baby, yes," you whimpered. He twisted in and out of you, pausing every few strokes to stop and lick your clit before entering you again. His pace sped up as he looked down on you with dark eyes.

"Ahhhh got damn, girl. This pussy so fucking wet." He inhaled deeply like it was going to keep his nut from coming too soon.

"Of course it is, daddy. You keep tapping my spot," you moaned. He shifted his hips a little, hitting it straight on.

"Where is it?"

"It's right there. Don't stop, right there, please!" Your fingers gripped the sheets below you as you came hard around him. He rubbed your clit midway through your orgasm, intensifying and extending your high. He came inside you heavy before falling to your side, breathing deeply as you traced your fingers along the raised scars on his chest.

"So, you like my costume?" Your boyfriend was back.

"It was aight." He raised an eyebrow at you.

"I can give you another spanking if my performance wasn't convincing enough."

"No baby, my ass hurts. But I have a question. You think Killmonger cuddles after sex?"

"Fuck no!" He yelled. "I do, though."

He wrapped his arms around you, placing kisses in the crook of your neck.

You couldn’t stop grinning as you laid there in his arms. The experience with him tonight was overwhelming. It felt like you fucked someone else.

You fucked Killmonger.

-----

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#Erik Stevens #Erik Killmonger #erik x reader #erik killmonger fic #erik x black reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #killmonger smut #black women #black reader

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wiypt-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 8: Old Friends, Not So New Tricks

Summary: When a familiar face turns up asking for Katie’s expertise, she finds herself confronted by another familiar face, this one being one she would rather never have had to see again.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Blood and SPOILERS if you haven’t seen Agents Of SHIELD….

A/N: Once again huge thanks to @angrybirdcr for her edit here, and the new banner for the next couple of sections of the story as we head forward through the next few parts of SSB...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 7

O/S: Phobias

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

November 2013

There’s a fine line between success and failure. And that last mission had well and truly teetered its way along the edge. The team had been split up after a catastrophic coms failure leaving Katie and Evans badly compromised. They had just about got the situation under control after some quick thinking from Katie and very sharp shooting from Evans, when Steve had broken every protocol in place and run head first into a gun fire to get them out, putting himself in danger.

And Katie was livid at him.

“We had it under control!” she said, her voice raised as she stormed through the corridor away from the hangar, people turning to look. They’d been arguing about it all the way home.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t look like it from where I was standing!”

“Damned it Steve!” She spun to face him. “You weren’t standing anywhere, you were running, head first into the crossfire without even thinking about what was going on!”

“The last thing I heard was that you were surrounded-”

“This is EXACTLY what I don’t want you to do!” Katie groaned as she ran her hands over her face “Run in there without a second thought for your own damned safety or anyone else’s.”

“What do you mean anyone else?” Steve’s nostrils flared.

“You left Rumlow and Rollins completely uncovered,” Katie shook her head, “to come and save me. I’m not a fucking princess that needs rescuing Steve!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Steve’s voice was loud, displaying the anger he was feeling inside at her attitude.

“I’ll talk to you how I want!” She snapped back. “You know everyone gossips enough about us as it is and we’re almost seven months down the fucking line…”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“…and yet you STILL give them fuel!” She threw her hands out to the side, bringing them back down to her combat outfit clad sides with a slap. “Oh look at Nova, needs her Super Soldier Boyfriend to bail her out!”

“For the last time…” Steve hissed between his teeth, but Katie completely ignored him.

“If you can’t remain objective when we work together then maybe we shouldn’t be on the same team.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t if that’s how you feel!” He practically snarled, as he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders back as his hands dropped to his belt buckle, eyes blazing.

“Glad we understand one another.” Katie spat back, before turning on her heel and heading towards the armoury to change, ignoring his shouts.

****

After debrief, for the first time in ages Steve left work alone. He was in a foul mood, and practically wrenched his apartment door off its hinges. In part he was pissed at Katie’s attitude, but in others his anger was directed at himself because deep down he knew she was right. He’d utterly lost it when he’d heard she was in trouble and hadn’t been able to do anything else but rush in there to help get them out. It was ridiculous, she was a trained agent with a shot on her like you wouldn’t believe, and the amount of times they’d been in bad situations before…but something today, something about the way she’d sounded on the radio had gotten to him and he’d abandoned all thoughts of professionalism and gone after his girl.

Sighing he threw his keys down on the kitchen side and grabbed a beer from the fridge before making his way into the living room, toeing off his boots as he want. He dropped onto the sofa and let out a loud moan of frustration, his head lolling back against the cushions. He hated that they’d rowed, this was the first big argument they’d actually had. Sure they quibbled about small things, the fact he made her sleep on the right hand side of the bed at his because it was furthest away from the door (just in case anyone got in), the way he was a bit of a neat freak and when she did stay for more than a night his apartment looked like a whirlwind had been through it (Ok, he didn’t actually mind that so much in truth), the way she tried on every fucking outfit she owned before they went out (maybe not every outfit, but close enough…), the way he often went for a run first thing in the morning and she’d get pissed he wasn’t there when she woke up because…well, because….but all that was stuff he adored. The normal part of being with someone you were comfortable sharing your life with.

As he took a pull from his bottle his eyes rolled to the right and fell on the large photo frame on his wall. It was one she had made him for his birthday.

“Open the big one first…” She instructed, nodding to the gifts that were piled on his sofa.

He did as he was told without saying a word, picking it up and resting it on his lap. It felt like a photo frame. As he peeled back the wrapping paper he realised that’s exactly what it was. It was large with glossy pine edges to match the furniture in his apartment and filled with photos of him all from his life before the ice and his eyes grew large as he took in the faces that looked back up at him. There was a photo of him and Bucky as kids, another as teenagers, then one of them in the army- the one of them laughing that Katie had said she loved. His eyes began to mist over as he saw a few shots of his parents at their wedding in Ireland, on the steps of their tenement building at Brooklyn, one of him and his mom when he was a small boy, then he spotted one of him and Howard along with various shots of him with the Howling Commandos and finally one of him, Colonel Chester Phillips and Peggy. And at the bottom of the frame, on a silver plaque was engraved a quote from the Wizard of Oz- ”A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.”

“I thought it was a shame to just keep them in a box.” Katie said gently as she sat next to him. “I wanted you to see them every day and remember you meant as much to them as they did or do to you.”

His fingers trailed over the various faces in the frame as the memories flooded his brain and he felt a lump in his throat at the wave of nostalgia crossing over him, and also at the utter thoughtfulness that had gone into her gift.

“I picked what I thought were the nicest ones.” She continued and he was aware her tone was growing nervous. “But we can swap them if…”

“Katie,” his voice was croaky as he cut her off and looked up at her. He was right, she was biting her lip, worried that she had upset him but nothing could be further from the truth. He moved to take her face in his hands and he kissed her, hard. He pulled away and looked at her speaking with utter honesty and sincerity “This is amazing, Darlin’. Thank you so much.”

Letting out a sigh, Steve’s eyes dropped from the wall to a smaller frame on the sideboard, this one contained a photo of him and Katie a ‘selfie’ of the two of them at the Top of the Rock, taken when they had gone back to New York to visit Tony one weekend in October. He loved it, the pair of them grinning like idiots, Katie wearing a baby blue sparkly beany and matching scarf, her smile genuine and him looking like a loves-struck idiot, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he glanced at the camera. She had the same photo in her living room too.

No, he couldn’t go to bed without sorting this out. Abandoning his half-drunk bottle of Sam Adams, he shoved his shoes back on, grabbed his keys and headed out.

****

Katie didn’t even stay for debrief, more to piss Steve off than anything. It was petty, yes but she was absolutely raging at him. Their relationship had been the talk of the Triskelion for months, and for that reason, they had behaved nothing but professionally on missions, wanting to prove to not only everyone they worked with, but to themselves, that they could remain objective in their work and that them being together wouldn’t compromise the way they behaved in the field.

And now he had fucked that.

She ignored his call which came just as she got home and throwing her phone onto the sofa she grabbed a glass of wine and ran herself a bath, turning her music up loud. She lay back under the bubbles, gently humming along to the music. Music was her thing to calm down to. She’d always played piano, right from the age of four when her mom had taught her, and she wasn’t bad at it either.

The mellow sounds of John Legend’s ‘Ordinary People’ faded into the opening notes of ‘Only One In Color’ by Trapt, and Katie paused, smiling. This song took her years back, to nights in London with colleagues in bars, and then a concert in Orlando in 2009…and Steve, it took her back to Steve and one rainy afternoon in August.

Katie shimmied around, folding laundry and dropping it into the basket as she sang, loudly. It had been ages since she’d done this, just danced around her apartment like an idiot. She turned round to grab the final load out of the machine and screamed as Steve was stood in the doorway, arms folded, leaning against the frame, that annoyingly cute smirk on his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough” He grinned, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. He nuzzled into her neck and the two of them stood there, still, listening to the song that was playing.

“What is it?” Steve asked, pressing a kiss to the spot just below her ear..

“It’s called Only One In Color, by a band called Trapt.” Katie replied, turning her head to look at him. “It kinda reminds me of you actually.”

Steve smiled as they listened for another second before he moved back, his hand taking hers as he raised it above their heads and spun her round, playfully as she laughed, before he pulled him to her.

“Dance with me.”

“What, here? In my apartment?”

“Our own private ballroom.”

“You’ve never danced before.” Katie looked up at him. “You told me.”

“I know, Peggy was right.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “I was waiting for the right partner. So, what do you say? Teach me?”

“You know I don’t really know a lot of steps.” Katie felt a smile spread across her face as Steve placed his free hand on the curve of her waist and she began to lead them around on the spot, her right hand held in his left, her left curling up and over his right shoulder. She watched Steve, who was concentrating so hard that his brows pinched together slightly, a look that was incredibly endearing.

“Stop over thinking it.” She said gently, looking up at him. “Listen to the music and just let go.”

So he did. He let go, listening to the melody and the words, smiling a little as the lyrics hit home, really making him think about the woman in his arms. She had brought colour to his life, given him a reason to keep going in this world he had found so strange and, well, daunting. As he found his rhythm, he felt the smile pull even broader on his lips. He raised his head from where his eyes had been focussing on his feet and his girl beamed up at him, squeezing the hand that she held.

“See, it’s not that hard is it?” She giggled. Steve returned the grin and shook his head.

“Surprisingly not.” He admitted. They continued to revolve around the space in the doorway between her kitchen and laundry room and Katie lay her head on his chest, Steve’s face automatically turning down slightly so his cheek was resting against her hair. After a minute or so Katie felt him move and instinctively she looked up and could do nothing but smile as they stopped dancing and their mouths drifted closer together. Her hand slipped up, fingers stretching themselves into the short hair at the nape of his neck as his lips met hers, his hand creeping across her back, large palm pressed firmly against her spine.

They never made it to the bedroom, they made it as far as the couch before they were both naked and going at it like a couple of horny fucking teenagers. And since then it had been ‘their’ song.

Katie sighed and drained her wine glass before she set about washing her hair and climbed out of the bath. She dressed in a pair of shorts and a hoodie before pulling her damp hair back into a French braid and had just settled on the sofa to watch TV when the buzzer to her apartment went. Picking up her phone to look at the security camera she took a deep breath and realised it was Steve.

“Sweetheart let me in. My key card is at home.”

She gave no response.

“I’m not going till you do, you know I could do this all day. Or all night.”

Still no response.

“I mean it’s a pretty interesting buzzer.”

With a groan, knowing full well the stubborn little shit in him would do just that, she pressed the button to let him in. Half a minute or so later the alert went again to signal he had requested access to her floor. Once more she tapped to accept and turned her attention back to the TV. She didn’t look up as the elevator door in the panel in her wall slid open, keeping her eyes focussed on the television as he strode into the room, heading straight for her once he’d hung his jacket up on the hooks to the right of the elevator.

“You were gonna watch this without me?” Hesaid gently, nodding to the episode of ‘Brooklyn Nine-Nine’ that was playing as he dropped down next to her.

“Yes.” She replied simply, her arms folded.

Steve fought the smile spreading across his face at her childishness. He knew if she was mad the worst thing he could do was laugh at her and make her think he wasn’t taking her seriously. So, he took a deep breath and turned so he was facing her on the couch, arm resting along the back.”

“I know you’re pissed at me.” He sighed. “But come on Doll, I hate fighting with you.”

“Then stop being a dick.” She snarked back. Steve took another deep breath and looked at her as she continued. “You know what it’s like at work, everyone has constantly analysed everything I do because, hello, Howard Stark’s daughter, and today…”

She trailed off and Steve looked down at his hands and shook his head. “I know. I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t handle yourself.”

They fell into silence and Katie exhaled sharply, deciding to meet him half way. She knew he hadn’t meant to make her feel like he had but, there was also a part of her that had been scared. Not just for her and Evans, but seeing Steve rush in, headfirst with no regard for his own safety just to get to her had really frightened her. Despite his enhanced nature, he wasn’t invincible.

“You need to trust me when I’m out there.” She spoke, her voice was softe.

“I do trust you, you know that.” He looked at her. “But I’m not gonna apologize for looking out for you, Sweetheart. It’s my job. Both as your Captain and your man.”

“I get that, I do.” Katie sighed. “But you put yourself in danger today, running straight into the middle of a fire fight…can you imagine what I’d have done if you’d have been…”

She trailed off, swallowing and took a deep breath before she continued and her words hit Steve. He hadn’t considered she had felt as worried about him as he had her.

“We have to remain objective, and if that means you can’t just abandon the team for me.”

“I know, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He said finally.

She looked at him and took a deep breath, the anger dissipating at his apology and moved to give him a hug, her arms round his shoulders as he wrapped his around her back and pulled her clumsily into his lap.

“I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.” She sighed as she lay her head against his.

“Forgiven?” He asked and she looked down at him, he was giving her his puppy dog eyes. She rolled her own, she couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when there was a small part of her that couldn’t help but adore the fact he cared so deeply for her that he’d rush in, head first with no regard for anything else.

“Captain Dumbass.” She grumbled, before giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess so.” He chuckled. And when she didn’t protest he gently tapped her thigh, and knowing what he wanted she shifted off his lap so he could lay down flat on the sofa, allowing her to drape herself over him like blanket, head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back, legs tangling together as they settled in to watch their programme.

*****

Katie hadn’t been in the office for five minutes the next morning when she got a message to say Fury wanted to see her. In the years she had known the director, she still found it hard to get a read on him and this time was no exception. She stepped into his office and he nodded to her, and without a word got straight to business, leading her over to the screen on the wall by the sofas.

“I was wondering what you made of this.” He said nodding to the large screen on the wall. The photo displayed was of a tree trunk, cut in half and running down the middle was a long, tube like shape, with some markings on it. The photo zoomed in and Katie frowned.

“These look like the markings on Thor’s hammer.” She looked at the Director.

“Funny you should say that.” Fury nodded. “Because the Spectrographic signatures match the readings from Thor’s hammer too.”

“So whatever was in that tree was Asgardian?”

Fury nodded. “It looks that way, Nova, yes.”

“Where was it found?”

“That’s a trunk from a Norwegian spruce in Trillmarka National Park, Norway.”

“Figures.” Katie bit her lip.

“How do you mean?” Fury looked at her.

“The legends of Thor, they all have origins in Norway. When I asked him about it, Thor explained that Asgardians visited Earth thousands of years ago.” She explained. “They roamed Norway, mingling with the old Norse people, but back then, because humans couldn’t understand the concept of people from another planet, these, well, these aliens were revered as Gods.”

Fury gave a noise of understanding.

“So who took it?” She asked. “Has Thor been back since the whole incident in Greenwich or…”

“I wish he had, then I wouldn’t really give a shit.” Fury sighed. “This thing has gone AWOL. According to my team on the ground, it was taken by a woman and a man, very much of Earth”

“Great.” Katie rolled her eyes, before she continued, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Because every time something alien lands in human hands that ends well.”

Fury gave a snort and pressed a button on a remote and she turned her attention to the TV on the wall of the office. It was screening a news broadcast, footage of a riot. The runner on the bottom of the screen identified the location as Oslo.

“The rioting has left twenty injured and three in a critical condition. Reports indicate that the group of about a dozen was led by this man and woman.”

A picture of the culprits filled the screen. The man was tall, dark haired, dark eyed and had a short beard. The woman, in contrast was slight, blonde and with icy blue eyes.

“And although their motive was unclear, the message was spelled out on the streets of Oslo, for all to see”

“It looks like the item has given them powers beyond those of normal humans.” Fury spoke as the newscast panned over to a fire on the street, this time an aerial view. The fire spelt out the words “We are Gods”.

“So what do you need me to do?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“I’m gonna need you to work with one of my field teams.” Fury continued, looking at her. “My best field team, actually. I want you to help them track these guys down. You have a decent knowledge on Asgardian and Mythological history and the team could do with someone with a little background on the subject.”

“Sir, if these people are as powerful as this report is saying, shouldn’t we consider at least trying to contact Thor, possibly the rest of the Avengers?” Katie looked at him.

“No.” Fury’s response was instantaneous. “I don’t want the Avengers involving. It would attract too much attention.”

“With all due respect, they just set a street on fire. I dare say it’s already attracting a fair amount of attention so whats-“ She trailed off as Fury looked at her, an expression on his face that Katie knew extremely well having seen it several times before. The expression he wore when he was about to drop a bombshell. “Oh, what are you hiding Nick?” She frowned.

“I want you to understand that you’ve been kept in the dark about this so far for a reason. And I know you’re going to get emotional, but if you could refrain from throwing that coffee you’re holding, Nova, I’d appreciate it.”

“Dark about what?” She pressed, her tone irritated. She didn’t have time for this bullshit.

Agent Fury pressed a button on his phone on his desk. “Alright, you’re up.” And with that the TV snapped onto a different channel and she turned to see a familiar man sat in a chair on the screen.

Katie didn’t throw the coffee, instead it slipped from her hands as her mouth dropped open and the entire room swam in front of her eyes.

“Sorry, boss. The God rabbited”

“Just stay awake. EYES ON ME!”

“No. I’m clocked out here.”

“Not an option!”

The room came back into focus again and she looked from the screen to Fury, then back. “This…this is impossible.” She stammered.

“I’d have said the same thing myself not long ago.” Phil Coulson gave a shy little smile.

Katie found herself floundering for words before the anger at the lies and deceit bubbled up.

“No, you…you died! I was there, I saw it!”

“Excellent medics.” Fury concluded.

“They took you away, in a body bag!” Katie’s voice rose to a yell as she ran her hands over her face, unable to believe what she was seeing. She’d cried, mourned the loss of one of her friends, a man who had been her mentor. She looked at Coulson on the screen, and then away again, her eyes misting up slightly.

“No one knew I’d pulled through until after New York.“ Coulson spoke softly “I spent months recovering in Tahiti. It’s a magical place.”

“I want your word that you will not reveal Agent Coulson is alive to anyone.” Fury spoke and Katie turned to look at him, her face curling up in an angry sneer. “I debated long and hard about pulling you into this but we need you.”

Katie eyed the director, chin jutting upwards as she glared at him. “Don’t you ever get tired of the lies?”

“I have no option.” Fury’s face was stern. “I can’t risk the Avengers falling apart.”

“I’m not lying to them for you.” She shook her head “No way. A team is built on trust. Without that you have nohing.”

Fury looked at her for a moment, before he sighed. “That wasn’t a request, Agent Stark. If you tell anyone I’ll remove you from service.”

“So now you’re blackmailing me?”

“I’m merely pointing out your options.” Fury replied simply.

“You are unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Fuck you. Fuck this.”

She turned to walk out of the door before Coulson’s voice rang across the room.

“Katie, please. We wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t urgent, but we really do need your help

The use of her first name, not her code name, made Katie stop in her tracks. Taking a deep breath she spun back, fire in her eyes as she glared at Coulson’s image on the screen. “Why should I?”

“Because, ” Coulson continued, “you’re the only one I trust enough with this.”

Katie ran her hands over her face, torn between wanting to leave and her desire, sorry, duty to help. In the end her duty won out and she felt her shoulders slump as she looked back towards the two men, giving them both a curt nod.

“Fine, but that does not mean that I’m happy about this. Any of it.”

“You’ll rendezvous with the Bus in Oslow.” Fury instructed, ignoring her emotion completely. “There’s a Jet being prepped to take the new shift of mobile STRIKE team members out as we speak. You can go with them.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. With a final roll of her eyes she made to leave the room before Fury called after her.

“Agent Stark.”

“What?” she demanded as she spun round, fixing her eyes on his.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But I had to do it.”

She swallowed, before she turned and left, not trusting herself to respond.

*****

Steve was looking for Katie, he knew she’d been to see Fury and was eager to find out what it was about. After asking a few agents if they’d seen her he finally tracked her to one of the kitchens where she was sat, hugging a cup of coffee like her life depended on it, staring down at the table. He frowned, she looked absolutely beat.

“Sweetheart?” He asked tentatively as she looked up at him. His frown deepened when he saw her face. She looked distraught. “Honey, what is it?”

One look in his eyes and Katie knew she couldn’t lie to him, she didn’t want to lie to him. Fuck Fury, fuck all of this.

“Coulson…he…” She stammered, looking up at Steve, her eyes wet.

“What about him?” Steve frowned.

She took a deep breath, tears now rolling down her face. “He’s alive, Steve, he’s fucking alive.”

And then the dam broke and she began to sob. Steve instantly went into autopilot, pulling out a spare chair and moving it close to her so he could wrap his arms around her as she cried into his tevlar clad chest, his own mind whirling at the news.

Eventually she calmed down to tell him everything. And Steve listened, not saying a word, simply holding her hand, his thumb skating over her knuckles as she spoke. He did, however, make an angry noise that was half way between a snort and a growl when she told him Fury had threatened to sack her if she told anyone.

“I honestly thought I’d seen it all, that nothing life threw up would ever surprise me again.” She sighed looking at Steve as she finished explaining.

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” He smiled softly and she spluttered a watery laugh through her tears, remembering what she’d said to him the first time they had met. “There’s my girl.” Steve reached over to gently brush her cheek with his hand. “I like it better when you smile.”

“Sorry, but I’m so angry. Fury is lying, again! Has he learnt nothing from everything that’s happened over the past few years?”

Steve didn’t say anything, merely studied her face for a moment and then both of them turned their attention to the door when one of the Junior Agents appeared.

“Agent Stark, Director Fury asked me to tell you we’re wheels up in an hour.”

“Thanks.” She nodded, sniffing before she looked at Steve. “I don’t even have time to pack.”

“You got some stuff in your locker, right?”

She nodded. She always had a few days’ worth of clothes in her locker and toiletries to hand, just in case. She ran her hands over her face and stood up. “You know, I don’t even know who I’m meeting!” She shook her head. “Other than Fitz and Simmons, I’ve no idea who Coulson has on The Bus.”

“Whoever it is I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Steve assured her. “And I know it’s shitty but they asked for you for a reason.”

“Suppose I best make the most of it, seeing as it will be my last mission, you know, on account of me telling you.”

“It won’t come to that.” Steve shook his head “I’m not gonna tell anyone I know.”

“Fury always finds out.” Katie sighed. “Tony is right about him. His spies have spies.”

Thirty minutes later she was walking to the hangar, suited in her SHIELD cat suit, Steve carrying her holdall for her as they walked. The Captain didn’t like this, he hated that she was effectively being manipulated and he would have loved nothing more than to give Fury a piece of his mind but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t supposed to know. They reached the bottom of the jet and Katie turned to him as he handed her bag to one of the agents who nodded to them both.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can.” She promised as Steve looked down at her and nodded

“Make sure you do.” He raised an eyebrow. “Not sure how I’m gonna cope without my best girl.”

“Your best girl?” She teased. “How many others do you have?”

“One or two.” He shrugged. “But they’re in different states, so, they don’t count, right?”

She gave a laugh as she shook her head. “Jerk.”

Steve chuckled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You know you’re the only one for me, Doll.” He dropped a soft kiss to her lips. “Just go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer, although both still well aware that they were in the middle of a very busy hangar, surrounded by a lot of people. Sighing, Katie pulled back and allowed herself to melt into his arms for a quick hug before she stepped back.

“I love you.” She said gently.

“You too. Be careful.” He looked at her, his features verging on stern with his warning.

“I’m always careful.” She grinned, walking backwards up the ramp, wanting to look at him for as long as possible.

“Well that’s just an out and out lie.” He raised an eyebrow, hands dropping to the buckle of his belt.

She grinned, blew him a kiss and then disappeared into the main part of the jet. Steve watched for a second as the ramp shut before he turned and left the hangar.

*****

The flight over to Oslow wasn’t too long. Katie used the time to do as much reading up on the item they were tracking as possible, going through all the files that Coulson had sent her. Eventually they docked with The Bus and her and the other agents made their way to the Air Lock. The doors shut and the capsule took them down a level before the frosted glass doors opened and there, stood in front of her, was Phil Coulson. The other agents pushed past, clearly fine at the sight of a dead-not-dead man in front of them.

There was a moment’s hesitation, where Coulson and Katie simply looked at each other, and then Katie’s anger boiled over and she stepped forwards, slapping him, hard across the face. The agents who were milling around all paused as Coulson’s head snapped to the side.

“Guess I deserved that…” He said, turning his head back to look at her as everyone hastily carried on with their jobs.

As Katie stared at her old mentor, her anger melted away and with a little sigh she threw her arms around him. Coulson squeezed her back, before Katie moved a little to look at him, before she spoke for the first time.

“Good to see you again. Not dead, I mean.”

Phil gave a chuckle. “You too Nova. Come on, the rest of the team are waiting in the lab.”

He led her down the hall, Katie following, her eyes taking in her surroundings before Coulson stopped at the end of a corridor, near a door to a room that she could see had a glass wall.

“Now, before you go in, there’s something else you should know.” Coulson turned to face her and she looked at him, letting out an angry groan.

“What now?”

“I want you to know, Fury didn’t want me to tell you as he didn’t think you would come, it wasn’t my decision to keep it from you.”

“Keep what from me?” Her temper was flaring again. “I swear to God AC I am this close…”she held her fingers an inch apart, “to losing my shit!”

Coulson hesitated for a moment and then opened the door to the lab. As they walked in six people all looked up from what they’d been watching and turned to face them. One of them was a dark haired girl she didn’t know and next to her were Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz who Katie knew from the labs when they had worked with Lawson. Then she spotted Melinda May, an agent only rivalled in fighting skills by Natasha.

And then a pair of familiar dark eyes met hers as another familiar face looked up from a tablet.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Katie muttered and she turned to Coulson who shrugged apologetically.

“Good to see you too.” Ward grinned as Katie folded her arms and glared at him.

There was a moment’s pause as the two simply stared at one another, Katie’s teeth grinding together in irritation, before the girl with the dark hair spoke. “Okay, so this is awkward…”

“And this is Skye.” Coulson spoke, breaking up the tension. “She’s a…”

“Hacker.” May supplied, at the same time Skye replied, “consultant”

Katie was really struggling to keep her temper under control now, so missed the irritated glare Skye shot at May. First Coulson, now this. Fury was going to absolutely get the full Stark-slash-Supernova explosion when she got back.

“So, shall we get down to business?” Coulson asked, spotting the look on Katie’s face, realising she needed to focus on something else. “What have you got?”

“We’ve managed to identify our thieves.” May spoke as Sky pressed something on the tablet she was holding. A close up of the woman’s face appeared on the holo-projector in the middle of the room. “Her name is Petra Larson”

“And this is Jakob Nystrom, her boyfriend. Both thirty. Leaders of a Norse Paganist hate group”

“And their numbers are growing thanks to what happened in London and the internet” Sky scoffed. “Yay internet,”

“Norse Paganist?” Simmons questioned

“Obsessed with anything derived from Norse mythology, stories of Asgard, yada yada.” Skye explained.

“And now a weapon.” Ward gestured to a long object on the table which Katie hadn’t noticed until that point.

“Is that a 3-d print?” She asked, instantly captivated by the item, looking at Fitz who nodded. “May I?”

“Of course…” He said. Katie picked it up and turned it over in her hands, testing the weight as she scanned it up and down. The detailing was exquisite.

“The scan accounted for only one side.” Fitz explained. “There was too much damage to the tree for a complete reproduction”.

“But, see here, it’s clearly broken on both ends.” Katie held it up. “So there are more pieces.”

“Yeah, two at least” Fitz responded, nodding.

“Which means Sid and Nancy may be looking for a complete set.” Ward spoke as Coulson turned to Katie.

“The markings. Just as you said on the call they’re Asgardian symbolism.”

She looked at the item in her hand and nodded. “Similar to Thor’s hammer.”

“Yeah, hard to translate with our limited knowledge.” Couslon shrugged.

“You should give your buddy the God of Thunder a shout.” Sky spoke “He gets his powers from his hammer, right? What if this is his nail to the hammer?”

“He’s off grid.” Coulson looked at her. “And if he has a cell-phone, we don’t have the number.

“I told to get him a pager.” Katie muttered as she peered at the rod and then something stirred in her mind, and she began racking her brains. There was something similar about this, something that she’d seen or read before, if she could only remember what.

“So,” May looked at Katie, “SHIELD’s investigations are on the trail of Nystrom and his followers.”

“We’re charged with identifying the object and finding any other pieces before they do.” Coulson finished.

Katie nodded, still thinking. “If this acts in the same way as Thor’s hammer then that’s a sensible task.”

And then she trailed off as it suddenly hit her exactly what it was she’d been trying to remember.

“No, it can’t be.” She muttered as Coulson looked at her questioningly. She nodded to the item in her hand and then looked back at him. “I could be wrong but this…this could be a piece of the Beserker Staff.”

“The what?” Ward frowned.

“It’s from an old legend that a great warrior, from another world came to Earth” Katie spoke, recalling the research she’d done once upon a time. “He had in his possession a magical staff but he loved Earth so much he never left, and he broke the staff into pieces and hid them.”

“Any idea on where?” Coulson asked. Katie shook her head.

“Well our Pagan friends certainly seem to have some advantage on that front.” Ward sighed. “They found this thing in a hundred and fifty square kilometres of Norwegian forest.”

“Guys, what if it called to them with magic?” Sky asked, her eyes going large and excited.

“Called to them?” May shot her a ‘be real’ look in response.

“We know it’s Asgardian, so the rules are a little bendy here.” Skye pressed.

“Just because we don’t understand something yet doesn’t mean we should regress back to the dark ages, talking of magic and fairy tales” Simmons shook her head and Fitz scoffed his agreement.

“Actually, that’s exactly what we need to do.” Katie looked around as the idea came to her.

“Excuse me?” Simmons asked.

Ignoring him, Katie turned to Agent Coulson. “Remember when we first found the hammer in New Mexico, and I told Fury to consult with an expert on Norse Mythology to fill the gaps.”

“Elliot Randolph,” Phil nodded.

“We should speak to him, he’ll know more about it than me.”

“Alright.” Coulson nodded, looking at May. “He’s a professor at the University of Seville. Set the course, let’s pay him a visit.”

“Shouldn’t take us too long.” May shrugged “But it is getting kinda late. By the time we get there it will be past eight in the evening local time. Can I suggest we head out first thing tomorrow morning?”

Coulson nodded. “Alright. Sounds like a plan. Okay team, lets wrap it up here and get something to eat. Think we’ve earned it.” He then turned to Katie, gesturing with his head for her to follow him out of the room.

He led her down a few more corridors and to a flight of steps which led up to the upper deck of the large airship.

“The Accommodation is probably a bit smaller than you’re used to, but…”

“If it’s that bad imma find a hotel.” She shrugged as she followed Coulson down the corridor.

“What and miss all the fun?” Phil looked over his shoulder. “I’ve had the gin bar stocked specially.”

“Yeah, for the record that isn’t going to take away from the fact that I’m utterly pissed at you and Fury”

“I know you well enough Nova to not even hope that would be the case” Coulson snorted as they turned right. Eventually they reached the living area and Coulson led her to one of the spare rooms.

It wasn’t as bad as Coulson made it out to be, a bed that was slightly bigger than a single but not a full double, with a small wardrobe and a small basin to the side.

“This isn’t so bad.” She turned to Phil who was watching her a little cautiously.

“Glad it meets your approval.” He nodded, leaning in the door way before he took a deep breath. “Look, I really am sorry about all of this. I wouldn’t have-“

“Let’s just find that thing and then I can go home.” Katie cut him off, not in the mood for anymore apologies or explanations. She had a job to do, and the sooner she did it, the sooner she could get back.

“That’s the plan.” Coulson nodded. “I’ll be in the bar in an hour or so, got a few things to sort out before but, well, it would be nice if we could catch up.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Katie replied. There was a pause before Coulson gave her another curt nod.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

With that he turned and left and Katie’s eyes fixed on the now empty doorway. With a purposeful stride, she moved forward and pressed her palm to the pad at the side, the door sliding shut with a slight click.

Katie turned around, looking at her bag which had been placed at the foot of her bed and with a loud, angry groan of frustration she flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

***** Chapter 9

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ezzydean · 4 years ago

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Trick or treat! - Sousuke & Asahi

come trick-or-treat in my inbox requesting ficcies and I’ll either treat you to some fluff or humor or trick you with a horribly twisted sad AU (I’ll use a random generator to pick trick or treat)

send me “trick or treat” and a character(s) or ship in my inbox and I’ll write you a short little thing (I’ll be doing these all of October so send away!)

trick (1k so it’s under a cut)

Thunder crashes and Asahi looks up from his desk with a frown. The storm is a powerful one, to be able to be heard so clearly from all the way inside the library, almost unnatural in it’s ferocity. He finishes checking in the small pile of books next to him and wanders off to reshelve them. The rain has kept most of the people away today other than the handful that used the drop box to return their books and he’s almost starting to feel a little lonely as closing time creeps closer and closer.

The lights flicker in warning and a moment later he hears the old wooden doors of the library creak open, the sound of the storm raging outside nearly overwhelming in the quiet of the library before the doors swing shut.

He finishes putting away the books in his hand and is wandering towards the front desk when he hears the small bell on his desk chiming through the building.

“I’ll be right there,” he calls softly, knowing his voice will carry up to the desk.

“No rush,” a familiar voice calls back.

He can’t keep the smile off his face as he rounds the last aisle and spots the man leaning against his desk.

“Hello, Sousuke.”

“Hey, Asahi.” Thunder crashes again and Sousuke frowns. “Sure is a heck of a storm going on out there.”

The lights flicker and something deep in the library grumbles and growls. Asahi smiles when Sousuke looks towards the aisles.

“Some of the old vents and air circulation units get a bit tetchy during storms,” he explains as he leans against the desk beside Sousuke. “So what brings you here tonight? No Rin or Momo to keep you company?”

“Nah. They’re busy with some project. I was running some errands and thought I’d take shelter here for a few minutes.”

“Well I’m always happy to have some company.”

They make small talk, Sousuke trailing after him as he reshelves the rest of the books, and before he knows it he only has one book left and the deep floor shaking chime signaling the building is closed and locked for the night almost startles him when it goes off.

“Did you need me to leave while you finish up?”

“Always asking me such silly questions.” Asahi shakes his head with a smile. “No I only have this last book and then I’ll be done.” He leads Sousuke deeper into the library, passing aisle after aisle after aisle.

“I didn’t realize the library was this big.” Sousuke is looking over his shoulder towards the front of the library, Asahi’s desk barely even visible in the distance.

“Oh there’s a lot about this library that people don’t know.”

The bookshelves are larger in this part of the library. Older. Made of rough hewn wood with wicked looking splinters jutting out at every angle and filled with leather bound tomes.

Sousuke gulps as he tilts his head back to try and see the top of the shelves. The shadows grow deeper and deeper the longer they walk and this time when he looks over his shoulder he can’t even see the bright lights of the main part of the library. The floors seem to vibrate under his feet, a deep almost subsonic rumble that he feels in his bones more than anything else.

“Asahi?”

“We’ll be there in a jiffy,” Asahi murmurs. Something high over their heads shifts and a stale breeze ruffles their hair. “Did you know that I’ve been the librarian here since I was seventeen?”

Sousuke shakes his head. “Uh. No. Do you like being the librarian?”

Asahi lets out a little laugh. “I never really wanted to be the librarian,” he admits. “It’s a lonely job. Taking care of this old place. But the benefits start to make up for it. For the most part.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. “Still gets pretty lonely.”

“Good thing you have someone like me to come keep you company then, huh?”

Asahi’s grin grows. “Oh very much so.”

The shadows are so deep now they almost seem to pulse at the edge of his vision. Chittering comes from their left and a shiver runs down Sousuke’s spine. He walks just a little closer to Asahi.

“Asahi,” he asks again.

Light in the distance flickers as the sound of their footsteps seems to be swallowed by darkness around them.

“Almost there,” Asahi’s voice is so soft Sousuke has to strain to hear it.

Suddenly they’re stepping out of the darkness and into a long room. Instead of the impossibly high shelves they had been walking past the room is filled with waist high podiums. Each as empty as the next. Asahi walks over to one a few feet from the door and carefully sets the book he’s been carrying on the top of it. The entire rooms seems to shiver and shudder, the walls shifting and stretching, and Sousuke stares as the book… dissolves? After a minute the room stills and he watches a gold plate appear on the podium, words scratched onto it in a language he’s never seen before.

“What?”

“Humans,” Asahi says, fingers running along the top of the podium. “Are fascinating. The stories they tell. The worlds they create. The knowledge they carry with them from birth to death. Absolutely fascinating.” Asahi’s eyes meet his and Sousuke shivers. “Libraries are fascinating too, if you stop and think about it. All that knowledge, all those stories, all those worlds. Collected and categorized and catalogued. Knowledge is power,” he says softly. “And librarians, well.”

He chuckles in a way that makes Sousuke’s stomach drop as he remembers something Asahi said.

“You said you’ve been the librarian since you were seventeen.”

Asahi’s eyes light up. “I did. You were listening!”

“I was. So. Um.”

“Ask.”

“How old are you?”

“Very old.”

“What… what is this place?”

“The library.”

“Is it… alive?”

Asahi’s grin turns wicked. “Do you want to find out?”

#haikyuu #free!#AsaSou #azumane asahi #yamazaki sousuke #AsaSou fic #hq writing #free! writing #crossover #prompt #cattatonically #trick or treat 2021 #full k scribble

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gehayi · 4 years ago

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It's possible that Tom Riddle seduced Merope Gaunt & later on she lied to get him to marry her or more likely she had symptoms of a false pregnancy & believed she was pregnant which led her to tell him she's with child. Given the social pressures of the time he left with her & the 2 likely eloped with Merope becoming pregnant later on but when Tom learned of this it lead him to abandon her anyways. What is your view on what really happened between Merope Gaunt & Tom Riddle Senior?

It’s possible, sure, that Merope could have lied about being pregnant or could have read the symptoms of false pregnancy wrong . But...well, I’ve been to school with rich privileged kids, and I find it more believable that Tom Sr. found the silent adoration of the ugly daughter of the local hermit amusing enough to exploit.

I could see him having a bet with his friends about how far he could push this and for how long. I could even see one of his friends dressing up like a minister and Tom going through a mockery of a marriage both to reassure her and to make fun of her. She thinks that it’s strange, of course, but what does she know about how Muggles do things? And meanwhile, Tom Sr. is looking oh-so-serious and he wants this and he wants her and for once in her life, it seems like she has what matters.

Meanwhile, Tom’s friends are stifling their laughter and trying not to meet each other’s eyes for fear that they’ll lose it.

After the fake marriage--who knows how long?--Tom convinces Merope to come with him to London--in April 1926 at the latest. He drives them there, or they take a train. Either way, he arranges the transportation and pays for a hotel room. Maybe he tells her that this is going to be their honeymoon. Maybe he says that they’re going to set up their own house in London. It doesn’t matter to him, as long as the lie works.

Merope isn’t familiar with Muggle cities, Muggle tech of the 1920s, or Muggle money. (She may not even be fully literate; we know that she never went to school and that her father taught her and her brother nothing.) London is an incomprehensible maze to her. And the hotel room is clean and warm and has soft carpets and pictures on the wall. There’s a box that produces music and stories and news. Lights come on with the touch of a button. And she doesn’t have to cook or clean anything. It’s luxury that she’s never dreamt of.

To quote the very wise Ursula Vernon, “Relief feels like happiness, if you don’t know the difference.”

Tom is pleased that she’s so easily satisfied; he doesn’t have to explain to anyone he knows why he’s with this ugly woman. He pays for clothes for her, but he doesn’t take her anywhere. When he’s bored with Merope, he tells her that he has to go out and then parties with his friends. She doesn’t question him. She doesn’t even consider doing so.

In May 1926, there’s a general strike.

Roads all across Britain become impassible. Buses have to barricade their windows. The strikers derail the train the Flying Scotsman in Northumberland. The government declares martial law. It even sends a warship to Newcastle. The world has turned upside down.

Merope hears about all this on the radio; it’s her main form of entertainment. She starts peppering him with questions. Why is the strike happening? Why is everyone so angry?

Tom is shaking and tense and can scarcely think coherently. How can these creatures, these underlings, rebel against the orderly system he’s been part of since birth? And how can this--this daughter of a mere tramp question him?

He yells at her to shut up. He apologizes afterward, and Merope accepts his apology. But the bloom is off the rose now. She knows now that he can be pointlessly cruel, just like her father and brother.

She tries very hard not to know this.

The general strike ends after nine days. Martial law, however, drags on and on. So do transportation problems. And 1.7 million strikers are now out of work. This is not the bright, fun city Tom wanted to visit.

June arrives. By now Merope’s adoration isn’t as intriguing to Tom, and her pregnancy is starting to show as well. Like many men and boys of privileged backgrounds, Tom thinks of pregnancy as something that only happens if the woman wills it. He is sickened and outraged that Merope has gotten pregnant--to trap him, he’s sure--and he chews her out for this.

Merope, though, was painfully isolated while growing up. She knew only her father and brother. Her father warned her repeatedly not to let a Muggle touch her...but he didn’t provide any clarifying details. She had no mother, no sisters, no female friends. She had no education to speak of. Porn was not conveniently available. And she could not read.

So, faced with Tom’s rage, Merope is at sea, for nothing he says is making sense. She doesn’t know how menstruation, conception and pregnancy work. The world hasn’t bothered to tell her.

Also...partying would have eaten into Tom’s money anyway, but the general strike and its disruption of transportation has made goods like food much more expensive. Though Tom doesn’t want to admit it, his funds are running frighteningly low. He needs the good will of his parents to acquire more cash, and quickly He also needs to square matters with the rich, upper-class, utterly suitable young woman he’s actually going to marry while assuring her that the Merope situation is no fault of his.

Arguments begin breaking out daily, then hourly. Tom starts them, taunting Merope’s wall-eyes and ignorance. She despairs when she hears this--after all, mockery and derision are all she’d ever heard from her father and brother. She loves Tom desperately, but he doesn’t love her.

She doesn’t yell, because she’s been trained since childhood not to. Instead, she begs him frantically, frenziedly not to leave her, because he's the one who knows how to handle this incomprehensible city. But her panic repels Tom, who sees it as clingy manipulation. It’s only London, after all. There’s nothing to fear.

So one day he returns home--without telling Merope. She's escorted out of the hotel room shortly after that. He didn’t stiff her with the bill, but not out of kindness. He simply doesn’t want anything, even a bill, tying him to her.

Merope is now alone and adrift in London. No money. No marketable skills. No transportation beyond her own feet--she has no way of paying for buses or cabs, and she may not even know the Underground exists. And no home. It’s August, maybe September of 1926. A rainy August, a mild September. She’s five or six months along. And winter is coming.

It comes in October, with freezing cold for most of the month and a snowstorm on the 28th.

She’s been living rough for a month or two. The clothes she’d worn earlier that year aren’t warm enough for October, and the cold has begun to gnaw at her bones. She's starving, too, and by now she knows that countless Muggles, all more qualified for any job than she is, are also out of work, thanks to May’s general strike.

She doesn’t ask anyone else for help. She should, but Tom was the only Muggle she ever really knew--and he betrayed her. She can’t bring herself to trust another.

And oh, she doesn’t dare go home. Even if she knew where it was and how to get there, her father would beat her to death for polluting the pure line of Gaunt with a Muggle’s get. And her brother Morfin would join in. Happily.

She begs--for food, mostly, though sometimes people give her money. Sometimes, too, they give her advice--to go to a church or a shelter or some government office. Merope nods and smiles and ignores the advice. She’s not going to trust the Muggle government after this past May, and she won’t shelter with dozens of Muggles. That would be suicide.

November 1926 is one of the wettest on record in the UK. Merope falls ill halfway through the month. She’s starting to have trouble breathing, and she’s tired and achy all the time.

December is filled with bitter, Arctic chill.

Merope has little strength left. She’s not getting enough air, somehow, and she’s constantly shaking with heat or cold, she doesn’t know which. Her vision is blurry, and even when she can obtain food, it’s hard to keep it down.

You’re dying, a voice says deep inside, and she knows the voice is right.

One day, she spots a building with lots of people caring for babies and children. She asks meekly, and someone--whoever tossed her a sixpence? another beggar?--tells her it’s an orphanage. Merope doesn’t know what that is, but she knows her baby would be better off inside the building than outside it.

December 31, 1926 is a mild, sunny day. Merope thinks of it as a good omen...until the pains start.

Merope doesn’t know anything about childbirth; she simply feels as if she’s being ripped apart from the inside out. She screams, not even caring if the Muggles hear.

Somehow, somehow, she manages to limp and crawl to the orphanage. She knocks on the door, which is the bravest thing she’s ever done. But her baby can’t survive a winter on the street. Maybe the Muggles will take care of him if they don’t know his mother was a witch.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s thinking of herself in the past tense.

A woman named Mrs. Cole answers the door and bustles her into a spare bedroom. It’s still unbearably cold, so cold that Merope thinks that her bones will shatter from shaking so hard, but there’s light and color and oh, it reminds her of the hotel room before everything went wrong. And Mrs. Cole is speaking to her in a kind, soothing tone and letting Merope grip her arms when the pains are bad. For the first time since Tom, Merope feels valued. Safe.

Her son is born at a minute to midnight, a scrawny scrap of humanity. Small wonder. Merope’s had little enough to eat for months. He has good strong lungs, though, which pleases her in a dim way. The world seems to be fading away, but that’s all right. She just wants to sleep.

She hears Mrs. Cole asking her something. Not her name--she told Mrs. Cole that before. Oh! The baby’s name.

There’s only one name she could give him--the one Muggle name that means anything to her.

“Tom,” she murmurs. “Tom...Riddle...Jun--”

And a soothing darkness claims her.

#mrardin85 #ficlet #merope gaunt #merope/tom sr #harry potter #complete disaster

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dragon-stones · 4 years ago

Text

Link to Ellina’s bio. If link doesn’t work, everything is below the cut.

Ellina Sylvia-Nosferatu Dracul

Age: 15 Astrological Sign: Scorpio♏ Date of Birth: October 30 Gender: Female Species: Dhampir (Half-human, Half-vampire) Affiliation: Hellsing Organization Aliases: Ell, Ell-Ell, Elly-Lu (by Seras), My beloved Pup (by Alucard), Young Lady/Madame, Bird of Hermes’ Offspring Orientation: Pansexual

“Why am I pulled from my lab again!?” —Ellina

Ellina is the daughter of the vampire Alucard. She’s the youngest in the Hellsing Organization.

👤Appearance👤

Ellina has stated that she can only change her form between bats and humans. Like her father, these forms have no meaning or purpose. She appears as a teen of indeterminate but reasonable age, though her birth age is 15. Her usual outfit is a purple gothic lace party rockabilly dress with long sleeves, white gloves, black gothic lace tights, and brown leather knee high boots. Ellina had blood red eyes that are common among vampires. Her hair length is middle back and wavy. Her teeth can change from a typical human with slightly elongated canines, to a mouth full of great white shark-like teeth.

Ellina once wore a teal floral ruffle sundress as a toddler, as indicated by a picture of her being held by Integra that can be found next to Alucard’s chair.

When in her lab, Ellina wears a worn out pink t-shirt with grease stains, a pair of blue Denim stained trousers (jeans), and a pair of work boots. She also wears a pair of leather gloves and has her hair tied up in a high ponytail.

😎Personality😎

Ellina is a polite yet strong-willed teen and has been since she was born. Alucard has stated that “I knew she’s a strong-willed being. Even in the womb, I knew”. Ellina is often considered to be tomboy-ish, like Seras; brave, strong, and heroic. Much like Seras, she’s not afraid to question orders that she is given. One trait that is common with Ellina is that she will crack a few jokes and jabs in a light hearted manner.

Ellina has only been on three missions and much like Alucard, she fights with ferocity. While not as cruel as her father, Ellina will disabled and humiliate an opponent, if she sees fit. It is possible to take Ellina by surprise, due to her lack of knowledge on the battlefield, but she’s also fast at learning.

Ellina is easily annoyed with how overprotective Alucard can be. She understands that even being half-vampire and able to heal from wounds that would be fatal to humans, she can still be fatally injured or outright killed. Still, she becomes irritated when her father fusses over minor wounds and when he drags her from her lab. Though, most of the time Alucard allows her to do as she wishes.

🎃Family/History🎃

Ellina was raised by Alucard and those living in the Hellsing Mansion and has grown into a confident, yet stubborn teen. She was born on october 30 to Alucard and an unnamed woman. Ellina’s mother disappeared three months after her birth for unknown reasons. Though Ellina has noticed that when her mother is mentioned the mood turns sour and some people even give snide comments or sneer.

As a young girl, Ellina was more timid and shy when meeting people than she is as a teen. She also had a habit of pulling a surprise game of hide-and-seek with her father. Her favorite hiding place was within the Hellsing Research and Development department, where weapons and any other things were created and tested. Alucard had tried to put a stop to Ellina entering the department floors, but she had countered all his attempts. To ease Aluxard’s anxiety, the researchers had given Ellina a space of her own, so she wouldn’t be in harm's way. Ellina spent a lot of time in R&D and developed a love for what the department does.

Now at 15, Ellina tends to spend a lot of time in her very own lab. She has a pet boa named Momo that stays in her room. Though, Ellina does have a whole room set up for Momo.

💜Relationships💜

Alucard He was present when she was born. He’s also the one to discover that Ellina’s mom had disappeared one night three months after the birth. Since the disappearance of her mother, Alucard had taken the “sole role” of raising her. He holds deep feelings of admiration towards his daughter, much like he does with Seras.

Over the years, Alucard and those living in the mansion helped her grow and mature into the teen that she is. Seeing his daughter working in her lab fills him with pride and joy, though he keeps it hidden. But, Alucard has said “The scents from that...lab are overpowering. It makes me nauseous.” This indicates that Ellina’s lab does make her father feel ill. Though Alucard does worry about his daughter like any parent would, he does let her do what she wishes. As long as she does what he tells her too.

Seras Victoria Ellina and Seras are like two peas in a pod. If one does something that causes trouble, the other is not far behind. Ellina and Seras like to go shopping when the older vampire has time off. Ellina calls Seras “Sister Seras” showing how much she loves her.

Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing Ellina has high respect for Integra and fears her. When Ellina was younger, she was allowed to send messages to those the woman calls for, like Alucard and Seras for example. Integra is also one of the few humans in the Organization that she’ll go to about female problems, when Seras is not available. Ellina shows her love for Integra by calling her “Godmother Integra” and “Lady Integra”.

Pip Bernadotte Pip helped raise Ellina from the time she was born. When Alucard or Seras couldn’t keep an eye on her, Pip would keep his eye on whoever was watching the Dhampir. Knowing that Alucard would not hesitate to injure someone who has harmed his daughter, Pip wants to keep such events as minimal as possible. Pip tends to call Ellina “Little Fleur”, which in turn she calls him “Boule de Pain”.

🔪Powers and Abilities🔪

Superhuman Strength: While not a true vampire or even a full, Ellina is still stronger than a normal human, but weaker than her father. Though, the extent of her strength is unknown. Ellina is easily able to handle Alucard’s Casull, but unable to hold Seras’ Harkonnen without support.

Superhuman Speed and Reflexes: Ellina is fast compared to a human, but to vampires she is considered slow. Though, Vampires can see her movements better than some humans can. Ellina’s reaction times are top-notch, due to Seras and Alucard training her.

Enhanced Endurance: Ellina, like Alucard, takes most damage without flinching or making a sound. Due to her not being in battles often, the extent of how long her endurance lasts is unknown.

Enhanced Durability: Ellina is able to harden the surface of her body to the point where she can survive a minor explosion in her lab and the R&D departments. But, she’s not strong enough to survive a depleted uranium cannon shell.

Regeneration: Ellina is able to regeneration from physical injuries that would easily be fatal to a human. If torn to shreds by conventional weaponry, Ellina can regenerate as long as most of her body is intact. If injured by holy weapons designed to kill vampires, Ellina will be taken out of commission for a while. If struck in the heart, she will die.

Hematophagy: As a half-vampire, Ellina is able to consume small amounts of raw blood. She has long, conical fangs to assist in this job. Ellina tends to drink from the medical bags, but will bite the neck if able too. Though, she states that A-type blood gives her heartburn and tends to avoid it when she can.

Hemokinesis: Ellina to manipulate blood, but along a small amount. And it has to be outside of the body.

Familiar Control: Ellina can summon those she has consumed, but she has very few familiars, due to not draining many humans. Ellina tends to favor using Raven, the Black and White Rat.

Daywalking: Ellina has no issues walking about during the day, only complaining that it makes her tired.

Shapeshifting: Like her father, no particular form is of importance to her. But, Ellina can only change into several bats. It is unclear if this is her doing so willingly or if she is not strong enough to add more forms.

☄Quotes☄

“So...who’s the dumbass that pissed father off this time?” — Ellina when Alucard destroys part of the basement in a fit of rage “It’s supposed to smell like grease and oil down here.” “What are the rules of my lab, again?” *waits for an answer* “Well?” “Type A blood gives me heartburn.” “Frigănele? Father eats those once in a while. I like Cozonac, though.” “Dad!! Stop dragging me out of my lab!” “What time is it?” “I don’t need to go to sleep!” *yawns* “The moon’s nice out tonight.” “Seras is going out for the night?” “I'm almost ready!” — To Seras when she asks if Ellina’s ready to leave “Who’s taking the fall for this one?” — Ellina and Seras prank Alucard “Pretending to be one of the dead? Now, join their ranks!” “They’re called ‘memes’, dad. They are a staple of my generation.” “I’m not sleeping in your coffin again.” *Alucard coos like dove* “Ok...maybe for tonight.” — To Alucard, who tired to get her to sleep “If I had a choice between facing an angry Integra and sinking to the bottom of the ocean, I’m taking the ocean.” “Father does like to have his hair played with.” — When asked about a secret she knows

#- The Daughter Ellina #hellsing ultimate #hellsing oc ellina #Ellina Bio #oc bio #my oc #hellsing oc #long post #tw long post #really long ass post ya'll #canon characters mentioned are...#alucard hellsing #hellsing alucard #seras victoria #sir integra fairbrook wingates hellsing #pip bernadotte

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dfroza · 4 years ago

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for October 6 of 2021 with Proverbs 6 and Psalm 6, accompanied by Psalm 15 for the 15th day of Astronomical Autumn and Psalm 129 for day 279 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 6]

My son, if you will risk your family’s future to put up collateral for the debts of an acquaintance,

if you seal a commitment with a handshake to someone without first knowing the value of his word,

Then your words may well be the trap that snares you,

and your promise may seal your fate.

You can’t be sure to whom you hitched your future.

So, my son—save yourself! Here’s what you need to do:

go to that person who became your master with a handshake,

humble yourself, and plead your case.

Do not sleep;

don’t even rest your eyes until you deal with this.

Get out as quickly as possible,

as a gazelle runs from the hand of the hunter,

as a bird takes off from the grip of the fowler.

Take a lesson from the ant, you who love leisure and ease.

Observe how it works, and dare to be just as wise.

It has no boss,

no one laying down the law or telling it what to do,

Yet it gathers its food through summer

and takes what it needs from the harvest.

How long do you plan to lounge your life away, you lazy fool?

Will you ever get out of bed?

You say, “A little sleep, a little rest,

a few more minutes, a nice little nap.”

But soon poverty will be on top of you like a robber;

need will assault you like a well-armed warrior.

Someone who struts around taking advantage of unsuspecting souls

and deceiving others is to be avoided.

With a wink of his eye, a quick shuffle of his feet,

and a slight gesture with his hand, he signals his roguish treachery.

With a warped mind and twisted heart, he constantly looks for his own gain at others’ expense,

causing friction everywhere he goes.

But you watch: his actions will bring sudden disaster!

In an instant, his life will be shattered,

and there will be nothing to save him.

Take note, there are six things the Eternal hates;

no, make it seven He abhors:

Eyes that look down on others, a tongue that can’t be trusted,

hands that shed innocent blood,

A heart that conceives evil plans,

feet that sprint toward evil,

A false witness who breathes out lies,

and anyone who stirs up trouble among the faithful.

So, my son, follow your father’s direction,

and don’t forget what your mother taught you—

Keep their teachings close to your heart;

engrave them on a pendant, and hang it around your neck.

Their instruction will guide you along your journey,

guard you when you sleep,

and address you when you wake in the morning.

For their direction is a lamp; their instruction will light your path,

and their discipline will correct your missteps,

sending you down the right path of life.

They will keep you far from the corrupted woman,

away from the smooth talk of a seductive woman.

Do not lose yourself in desire for her beauty

or let her win you over with her painted eyes,

For you can buy a harlot with a loaf of bread,

but sex with another man’s wife will cost you your life.

Can you carry fire right next to your body

and keep your clothes from burning?

Can you walk over fiery coals

and keep your feet from blistering?

Take another man’s wife, and you will find out—

whoever touches her will be found guilty.

People don’t despise a thief

who only steals to fill his hunger;

Still if they catch him, he must repay seven times over—

he could end up losing everything he owns!

By contrast only a fool would commit adultery

since by his action he loses not only his possessions but also his own life.

He will suffer injury and be disgraced;

dishonor will leave a permanent mark on his life.

For jealousy sparks a husband’s rage—

when he gets his revenge, he’ll show no mercy.

He will not be paid off or appeased;

no bribe or gift will set things right.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 6]

For the worship leader. A song of David accompanied by the lyre.

O Eternal One, don’t punish me in Your anger

or harshly correct me.

Show me grace, Eternal God. I am completely undone.

Bring me back together, Eternal One. Mend my shattered bones.

My soul is drowning in darkness.

How long can You, the Eternal, let things go on like this?

Come back, Eternal One, and lead me to Your saving light.

Rescue me because I know You are truly compassionate.

I’m alive for a reason—I can’t worship You if I’m dead.

If I’m six feet under, how can I thank You?

I’m exhausted. I cannot even speak, my voice fading as sighs.

Every day ends in the same place—lying in bed, covered in tears,

my pillow wet with sorrow.

My eyes burn, devoured with grief;

they grow weak as I constantly watch for my enemies.

All who are evil, stay away from me

because the Eternal hears my voice, listens as I cry.

The Eternal God hears my simple prayers;

He receives my request.

All who seek to destroy me will be humiliated;

they will turn away and suddenly crumble in shame.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 6 (The Voice)

[Psalm 15]

A song of David.

Eternal One, who is invited to stay in Your dwelling?

Who is granted passage to Your holy mountain?

Here is the answer: The one who lives with integrity, does what is right,

and speaks honestly with truth from the heart.

The one who doesn’t speak evil against others

or wrong his neighbor,

or slander his friends.

The one who loathes the loathsome,

honors those who fear the Eternal,

And keeps all promises no matter the cost.

The one who does not lend money with gain in mind

and cannot be bought to harm an innocent name.

If you live this way, you will not be shaken and will live together with the Lord.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Voice)

[Psalm 129]

A song for those journeying to worship.

“This is not the first time my enemies assaulted me;

they have often attacked me since I was young.”

So let Israel now proclaim,

“This is not the first time my enemies assaulted me;

they have attacked me since I was young,

and yet they have not been able to overpower me.

The plowers plowed over me;

they plowed their furrows deep and long down my back.”

The Eternal is just.

He’s severed the bindings of the wicked so they can’t hurt me anymore.

May all who despise Zion

hang their heads in shame.

May all who despise Zion recoil and run away.

Let them grow like grass upon rooftops

that withers and dies in the sun long before it has time to grow,

Unfit to be harvested by the worker,

not worthy of the effort to carry off to the binder.

Unwanted, uncared for—no passersby to greet them, no one to say,

“May the favor of the Eternal be upon you;

We bless you in His name.”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 129 (The Voice)

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thisweekingundamevents · 5 years ago

Text

This Week in Gundam Wing 25-31 October 2020

Here’s this week’s roundup! Oct 25th-31st!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works next week!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@amberlyinviolet

I Can Kiss You For Free Now https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208864?view_adult=true

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Mature, Fluff, Vague angst

His insides were a riot of overgrown flower beds, bushes in need of pruning. When he tried to clear a space it was filled with something else--debris from his shipwrecked heart, mud from too much rain. It was a constant effort and Duo worked hard, so hard, to try and tidy it into something he could give away. Something neat and beautiful and with no sharp edges that he could offer with both hands, instead of what he had. Instead of slow seeping poison and the constant upkeep, the steady, leaching need for reassurance.

To Bethlehem It Slouched https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232870

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei, Trowa Barton

Mature, Mentions of Violence, Off-screen Minor Character Death, Hospital, protective instinct

The hospital is a hospital. Duo hates it the way he hates all of them. It’s 12:04 in the afternoon and he all but runs to the trauma center. Stands blank faced as the nurse says words like “concussion” and “minor” and “lucky” and wonders how he’s supposed to be grateful for this. How he’s supposed to feel good that Wufei isn’t dead when he almost was. Lucky means close. Means a few inches either way and it would’ve been different words. Words like “sorry” and “condolences” and “tragic.”

You, Soft And Only https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247480

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Mature, Romance, Softness, Fluff

It’s evening. The kitchen is warm and full of smells. There’s soft light coming in through the window over the sink and Duo is up to his elbows in soap bubbles. He is illuminated, singing along to something upbeat and Wufei watches him from the doorway with wonder. This, he thinks, is his. It’s not exactly a reward. It’s more an offering. A vulnerability that Wufei knows Duo is only comfortable sharing because he trusts Wufei. Because together they’ve built something that’s safe, even if it is a little wobbly. They don’t have to be anything else here, just themselves, and just themselves is enough. It’s something they give to each other over and over, and Wufei treasures it the same way he treasures the man at the sink.

The Fire In Your Eyes https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264679

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Mature, Plotting

“No what ifs.” It’s firm. Steely, and Duo finds himself at the end of one of Wufei’s looks. Finds himself melting despite the chaos around them. The hurricane of fear in his chest. How he loves this man. How he loves the way he understands him, his need to fix this, and combats it with chamomile and the promise of bed, together. Duo takes a sip of his tea and leans into him.

The Blood Is On Your Tongue As Well As Your Hands https://archiveofourown.org/works/27282487

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Mature, Panic Attack, PTSD, Rage, Violence, Suggested Co-dependence

He doesn’t feel safe. Avoids eye contact and looks out the window. Doesn’t know how this room of people can stand him, after everything he’s done. All the little pieces he’s stolen from them, or the big pieces. Duo isn’t exactly a liar but he is a thief and none of the people he loves are safe. Are, in fact, in the most danger and Duo takes another sip of whiskey. Takes another sip of whiskey and tries not to taste the rising bile. Not to feel the sharp scratchy static at the back of his neck. The base of his skull. There is heat. There is heat and electricity and Duo’s hands shake.

Lay Us Down https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286864

M/M, Chang Wufei/Duo Maxwell

Explicit, soft, Confessions, Smut, Feelings

Sometimes their bed seems endless. An expanse of sheets and skin and the silk of their hair, spread out on a pillow. Falling like a curtain around them as they kiss. Wufei has had his body his whole life, but this is the first time he’s ever felt settled in it. Felt like all of it belonged to him in a way he could revel in. Whatever insecurities he has seem to fall away under the heat of Duo’s violet gaze. Under every greedy sweep of Duo’s hand from the back of his neck to his tailbone. They are lying side by side. They are only kissing and it’s such a simple thing but Wufei isn’t sure he’s ever felt anything like this before. That the brush of lips against his has ever sent such a spark through him. Coiled such a fierce need in his belly.

@angelselene

Stand Without Flinching (Ch. 24) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763293/chapters/66640444

5 pilots + The Avengers

1x2, 3x4, 5xS, TonyxSteve, WandaxVision

MATURE, post-canon, canon divergent, fix-it, GW/MCU crossover, PTSD, found family, slow burn, moral ambiguity, Tony Stark is Duo’s father

For Duo Maxwell, family are the people he has loved and lost and whose names he bears. For Tony Stark, family has always been blood and a name and Howard’s shadow looming over him.

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

Deadly Intent (Ch. 8) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576657/chapters/66603631

F/M, Heero/Reader, ???/Reader

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Wufei Chang, Lady Une, Relena Peacecraft, Reader, Trowa Barton

Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Reader Insert, Drama, Angst, Romance, Violence, Lime

Eleven years is a long time for a ghost to come back and haunt him. But Heero Yuy finds himself unable to dodge or outrun it. It’s the start of a dangerous cat and mouse game between one of the most powerful organizations in the world and a loner who has every intention of dragging him down with her. After all, she has come with deadly intent.

Comfort https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222649

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Teen And Up Audiences, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Reader-Insert

“I want to thank you for last night,” you said softly, while looking up at him. “It was nice of you to take care of me like that.”

A frown formed on his face. “You sound as if none ever did that for you before.”

@duointherain

Six Feet Apart https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/633016132898521088/fic-six-feet-apart

Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing. I also don’t own the song in the Tumblr post I’m about to link. I barely own my own mind as I’m studying to much these days. Neither do I own: Song Grow As We Go, by Ben Platt.

Link: https://rosespirit.tumblr.com/post/633002398703616000/priscellie-candiikismet-coffeefoxgirl

Note: Gundam Wing is Sci-fi. It’s a m/m story.

It had all stopped so suddenly. It hadn’t been like anything had been declared, nothing permanent. After the war they’d just sort of fallen in together. First it was the hotel room. Then it was a pizza. Duo’s laughter had saved him. Even months after he last heard it, Duo’s laugh was what he kept breathing for. It wasn’t like there was a lot of other purpose. Weapons are supposed to be decommissioned, after all. Except the memory of Duo’s laugh, Duo’s kisses, Duo sleeping next to him, these things meant he was human. Pain meant he was alive. He still had the ring, though his finger was too small to keep it on anymore.

Gundam Legends 14

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Back In The Water https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GundamLegends14

A collection of fics by various authors for the Gundam Legends event. Previous years can be found here: https://tzigane.neocities.org

@lifeaftermeteor

To Love and Love Again https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309412/chapters/66724459

F/M, M/M, Chang Wufei/Relena Peacecraft, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, Chang Wufei, Relena Peacecraft, Hilde Schbeiker, Sally Po, Lucrezia Noin, Lady Une, Mareen Darlian

Teen And Up Audiences, background Sally Po/Lady Une, Post-Series, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Preventers, BROTPs abound, Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life, Wedding Fluff

Following their Christmas engagement, Wufei and Relena bring their family together for their nuptials. The celebration gives their guest an opportunity to reflect on their own romantic inclinations.

@vegalume

Chase https://vegalume.tumblr.com/post/633532147170476032/title-chase-a-drabble-author-vega-lume-written

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell

The knock at the door startled him more than he would like to admit. In a way he had been expecting it. It was a sort of nervous, anxiousness that had been strumming through his body since he had woken hours before. Now that it was just past sun down he knew what was waiting for him on the other side and he was both apprehensive and excited.

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@2pcb

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312763/chapters/66732790

EXHALE, Heero/Trowa, comic

@cuteciboulette

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/633411537102667776/10-left-to-go-hopefully-ill-be-done-by-the-end

GW Merch

@enelle89

https://enelle89.tumblr.com/post/633025341866246144/happy-halloween-its-almost-here

Heero Yuy/Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, fanart

@gundayum

https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/631834507084021760/i-have-a-little-data-again-so-plz-enjoy-dad-bod

Duo Maxwell, fanart

https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/632787659677384704/borrowing-my-aunts-wifi-to-share-my-trashy-2xh

Duo Maxwell/Hilde Schbeiker & kiddos, fanart

Head Canons:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/632983263759220736/gw-oc-october-day-24

GW OC-October 2020 Day 24 Prompt Response

@lochtayboatsong

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/633017041186668544/my-gw-ocs-part-13-josef-peacecraft

GW OC-October 2020 Day 1 Prompt Response

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/633174117984698369/my-gw-ocs-part-14-stefan-peacecraft

GW OC-October 2020 Day 2 Prompt Response

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/633386069070626816/my-gw-ocs-part-15-isabel-barton

GW OC-October 2020 Day 3 Prompt Response

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/633560666909851648/my-gw-ocs-part-16-sam-maxwell

GW OC-October 2020 Day 1 Prompt Response

Fandom Discourse:

@cuteciboulette

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/632800216214536192/lets-go-back-to-this-sharing-my-gw-archives

Over the next few days, a story scanned from the doujinshi “Guerrilla show” by Sango Show.

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/633530414557020160/at-preventers-hq-dorothy-to-duo-well

Dorothy, Duo, and Quatre

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/183465625949/lemontrash-lemontrash-lemontrash

Duo & WuFei

Add-ons by @lemontrash

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, November 6th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/633500173247627264/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-november

In need of WINTER/SPRING prompts!

@gwoc-october

GW OC October 2020!

GW OC-October 2020 is now over!

Do come by and check out all the amazing entries, and remember that if you’d still like to answer any of these prompts, you are more than welcome to! Just send them our way and we’ll reblog them!

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/624053314842230784/event-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2020

Rules: https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/627952774875906048/gw-holiday-gift-exchange-2020

Check-in 1 https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/633566440354627584/gw-holiday-gift-exchange-check-in-1-notice

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #25-31 October 2020

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cwilling9 · 4 years ago

Text

Songs Can Sound Like Eulogies, But Only if You Let Them

In the quiet of the night, as I make the long trek back to my apartment from work, my thoughts sometimes drift to her. I can go months or even years between sightings, but her ghost is surprisingly persistent.

The irony is that most of the time I’m not thinking of her. I’m thinking of you. Which is pretty tragic, since you are the one who took her from me.

Maybe she only can break into my thoughts during the darkest parts of the day, because that is the last time I can remember seeing her face. In a quiet field, in a quiet town, you walked up to her.

And then she violently faded away.

Should I really blame you though? You were so young at the time - could you have really known what you were doing? It's those questions that the more forgiving version of myself whispers into the cracks of my brain, before a boiling and billowing rage consumes the whole in screaming condemnation.

Because yes, you were young.

But she was young too.

And you had no right to take her from me.

She was the most vibrant girl I knew. She bounded from life to life, spreading her spark to all those she met. I know that she just wanted that spark to catch and be sent back in equal measure. I regret that I didn’t have the courage to be that for her.

She deserved the world.

And instead she met you.

At this moment I have to indulge my darker thoughts, or I fear they will eat me alive, consuming what I must protect that is growing inside me. Your ghosts do not get to take that from me too. Because, like her, you are only a ghost now. Adrift in my memory. But I do remember what you were like in life - brash, bold, and unflinchingly you. Or were you really? Years later I can barely tell if it was all a facade. You were so alike her in some ways, and so different in others. Maybe the two of you could have been friends in another life. But you had already caught the sickness. The one that only survived on the consumption of others.

Then she came to town. And you were hungry.

You know, for years I thought that you killed her. I thought that in that single moment in late October, you reached into her small and fluttering heart and wrung its neck.

For years, I lived in mourning. I lived in silence. It was a quiet life, it was a lonely life. How does one introspect without their soul. Without their mind. Without their heart? She was music to me.

It wasn’t till years later that I finally realized how sharp the quiet really was, and that she didn’t die on that dark field all alone. It was those daggers of silence that pierced her still softly beating heart the deepest.

You may have left her broken and bloodied on the ground, but I am the one who left her to die.

It wasn’t until I had this final realization that her ghost stopped haunting me at night. A spector merged into my soul, filling in the cracks that you had once occupied. I now know that by holding on to you, I had let go of her. So it is here that I will say goodbye.

That festering discontent that I will never be able to shake, the one that both destroys and creates in equal measure, has tried to whisper to me that I shouldn’t let you get away unscathed. You need to answer to the world for what you have done.

You need to answer to me.

But, without purging this feeling from my gut, she will never feel safe within me. And she deserves to finally return to rest in the place that once was her home.

I may never be able to be who I once was. After all, we can’t become our ghosts. But, we can live at peace with them. And if ghosts have ears and hearts that beat, I’d like to leave a message for mine.

You deserved the world. I envy your spark and your hunger and the way that you could hold a quiet thing in the palm of your hand. You were messy and tilting and sharp, but you were mine. Then the demons got to you, and I didn’t protect you, and I am sorry. I am so so sorry. I will love you till the end of my days, and I will die trying to love myself in equal measure. You, my little thunder girl, are now the thunder in me.

#short story #musings #just a random draft

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ramble-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Shitty Holidays

The idea for this is based from art @ywwywwy did of Frank at a table sitting on one end as his foster family is at the other. As for how Frank is, it’s this idea of Frank as a wolf because hey, why not? lol. So here it be!

There was light flakes of snow drifting within the wind outside. There was the squeals of two kids filled the house along with the gentle voices of a mother and a father trying to get their children to calm down. But... There’s a third, sitting quietly at the other end of the table as yellow eyes glance from the food on his plate to the chatty family on the other side of the table.

Frank Morrison, age 16, was sitting there as the family chatted away. Keen ears picked up a chuff of a dog under the table. Honestly, the dog being a German Shepard, was the only good thing out of this new foster family. Though at first he and the dog didn’t get along, it was a day alone he got to have the house to himself and, like usual, the dog would growl and bark at him every time he took one step outside. That ended quick when he had shifted and he established dominance.

That aside, the family themselves didn’t really pay attention to him. For sure when they agreed to have him that they were twitchy on the idea of his skull jester tattoo with flames and baseball bats. He found it cool. The previous couple was ok with him having one since they had tattoos like sleeves, on the legs, small ones, and various others. The only problem in the end with that family was the constant arguing and they fact that the two were having a divorce. That was two months ago and here he is with this family that were just iffy with him in general.

“Frank, are you going to eat?”

The voice made him jump a bit. He focused his gaze to the father looking at him as the mother does her best to calm down the two maggots. The brother kept trying to steal his sister’s food and she would throw her balled up napkin at him. Yellow eyes blinked as he got his mind back to the present.

“If you don’t eat up, you can go to your room.”

His “room” being what is the little girl’s room with a bed that at least he is left with sleeping propped up or with his feet hanging off the edge. Frank glances down to the food sitting there that he can smell is loosing its heat and how the strong scent is fading. He stifled the whimper that wanted to rise up. There’s no denying that he’s hungry, that the wolf deep down was starving. He just.. There’s too much moving around homes that he lost appetite. It doesn’t help that the mother took her time to make this dinner for Thanksgiving (second Monday of October), and he’s sitting here having not even touched it.

“Louis, leave him be. We only have him for a month or so till they can find better housing for him. Or if his parents-”

“They don’t want shit to do with me..” He couldn’t contain the slight growl to his voice. He hates it how every family he’s been with when they talk about the time they have with him that they mention “if his parents want him back.” Bullshit, he would say all the time. They left him for a reason. Over a stupid fuckin’ reason. So what if he’s a late shifter? They didn’t even bother with him further! Not his fault that also their marriage fell apart.

“Oi! Watch your language *garçon,” Louis said firmly. Frank didn’t know French, nor did he care. If it was an insult, fuck this guy. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. He’s sick and tired of the constant moving, families one moment saying they’ll take him in and then the next moment doing shit that hurts that either he calls up the foster home or the family does, blaming him for shit he didn’t do.

Frank stands up, slamming down the fork and knife in his hands down onto the table with a clatter. His breathing picked up, his jaw felt strained with feeling his teeth get bigger along with his body. It wants to expand, to let the wolf raging inside out to maul the stupid Frenchy.

“Yeah? Well you try being only 5 years old when your parents not only want you, but procced to go through a divorce as well that they throw you into foster care because of you! You try bouncing around home after fucking home from abusive families, from groomers, from cultists. You try going through a family who honestly wanted you and were denied of adopting you that it fucks you up.”

This made Louis stand up enraged with his face going red. “Go to your room!”

“That ain’t even my fuckin room!”

“Boys! Please calm down! It’s Thanksgiving and we should be happy and-”

The dog barked. A loud sharp one. Cheder, as the dog is named, stands and comes out from under the table with a growl. He sensed Frank’s anger and was ready to act on it. To protect him. This pissed off the man further.

“Cheder, come here.”

“I don’t think he wants to listen.”

“*Tais-toi. Cheder. Come. Here.”

The German Shepard still didn’t move. He just walked backwards to stand next to Frank. Pack mentality. In all honesty, he and the dog did grow to have a bond with the time he’s been here ever since shifting. Boy, Frank couldn’t help the shit-eaten grin that spread across his face.

“That’s it. I’ve had it with your attitude! We’ve tried being nice to you and-”

“Nice?! Ha! You did nothing but ignore me! You didn’t do shit to stop Cheder from snapping at me the first few times he was inside the house! When it came to shopping for clothes for school you picked out shit for me! You let Maggie and Wayne pick out their outfits, but didn’t let me do shit. We won’t get on the topic of the tattoo, but oh how I fuckin hate it when you won’t even look at me when you talk to me like a fucking man.”

This made everyone go quiet. Even Cheder. Maggie looks to her father with tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Papa.. I’m scared...”

Louis hushed her gently, but by this point Frank had enough. With a scoff, he turned on his heel and headed for the back door to the backyard. He needed to run, get it out of his system. He could hear Louis mutter about calling the Alberta Foster Care to get him in the morning, but again, he didn’t care. He heard the mother coming after him, calling his name as he headed out into the cold night. He knew Cheder followed, but over the fence the dog couldn’t.

Frank didn’t care that he heard the mother become frantic quick at seeing him hop the fence. Once up and over, he broke out into a run, wanting to get far from them. Wanting to get as deep as he could before shifting mid run. Dark brown fur took over what was once fair skin was along with a lighter tone underside. Two legs and arms popped and changed to being four legs and paws as big as his hands. Everything from his chest, shoulders, thighs, and head enlarged. Face extended out to a muzzle and a wet nose. Every human tooth grew and sharpened to that of a wolf as the final touches of ears and tail sprouted.

There standing in the place of where a boy was, was a Brown Timber wolf, but bigger due to him being a werewolf than a shapeshifter. Fully formed, Frank wasted no time sprinting deep into the forest till it was just him and the surrounding trees with what little snow flakes got through the thicket of the pine branches. Out here, he’s free. Far from the grasp of any human, far from the grasp of the foster system. It’s out there where the wind blew through his fur that he felt better with the cold nipping at the pads of his paws and his nose, the breeze making him blink a few times over. It’s out there where he spent the rest of the night, curled under some upturned roots of a tree.

By morning, he woke to the sound of his name being called. Multiple voices ranging from male to female. Some he even recognized as the trees made their voices echo down to where he is. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go back. But fate isn’t his to decide. With a sigh, Frank stood up and shook himself out and stretched before shifting back to himself. A sigh left him as he made his way towards the voices.

The person assigned to helping him find a foster family was there, the parents Louis (reluctantly) and Hanna were there along with an officer or two. Upon seeing him, Hanna just rushed at him and pulled him in for a tight hug. He didn’t reciprocate it. The adults talked as they headed back to the house. He wasn’t surprised to see all his stuff packed up.

Not a word was spoken as Frank grabbed it and headed out to the waiting running car. In an instant, Cheder came rushing out after him with loud whines and practically shoved his head into Frank’s stomach. This made him sigh as he bent down to pet the dog, lowering his head to place on Cheder’s with a hand going through thick fur. If he could, he would’ve taken Cheder with him. But he can’t. It was like the German Shepard knew his thoughts because the dog backed away despite still whining, then turned to head back into the house with head and tail low.

There was no goodbyes as he got into that car to head back to the foster home, no glances back. Nothing. The person that drove tried to ask him questions on what happened, but he didn’t answer, didn’t want to as his eyes watched houses change as they made their way back to the major town of Alberta. Frank was just tired of all of this, tired of the changes and faces he doesn’t bother to remember. Sleep sounded like the better option for now. Getting himself as comfortable as possible, he let his eyes drift shut with the cold window to his forehead, letting himself let go and doze off with not wanting to think what the next family would be like.

#frank morrison #frank dbd #legion dbd #wolf frank #ywwywwy #inspo #my writings #long post

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my-fanfic-library · 6 years ago

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Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader}[25]

Masterlist

~^*^~

Exactly 27 minutes and forty three seconds ago, Jack had left. Silence had ensued for 27 minutes and now forty five seconds. Your phone was blowing up in your bag. Message after message after message. Phone calls over and over. Jack had made you swear not to touch the phone - that if he needed you, he’d get into contact with Daniel first.

Speaking of the devil himself, he was looking around the room, avoiding meeting your gaze. He had opened his mouth a few times, as if to speak but had decided against it.

The clock was ticking on the wall.

27 minutes and fifty six seconds-

“[First]-“ he cut himself off when you finally met his gaze.

“What?” You grumbled.

“Are you going to pick up your calls?”

“I’m not allowed.”

“I see... how have you been...?”

“Well I’m here, so I couldn’t be worse.”

He chuckled. He guessed it was because of the awkward tension, or maybe just because of your pessimistic attitude. You averted your gaze and he sighed. His biggest regret was Lucy.

~^*^~

Dracula tapped furiously on his phone, trying to get you to respond. Maybe if he sent enough messages, you’d give in.

[You: it’s over. we’re through.]

“What?” He whispered to himself, unable to comprehend the message that had just sent. What the fuck did you mean it was over? It couldn’t be over... He dialled your number. Voicemail, “[First], call me back right now.”

No answer. Nothing. It was like within a moment, within turning that corner, you had utterly disappeared. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not without a fight. He needed you more than anything. He’d go to any length to get you back.

It seemed that fate was tempting him, as an hour later, Jack had turned up at his door, a firm look on his face as the vampire invited him in.

“So,” Dracula began, turning away from Jack and pacing up the room, “where is she?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Jack stated. Dracula could hear his pulse. Not as tough as the fact he was putting on, that’s for sure.

“Sure you can, you just tell me where she is and I go and get what’s mine.” Dracula turned to face him, giving him a look that make Jack have to repress the urge to recoil.

“She’s not yours. Not anymore. She’s safe.”

“Are you suggesting that she wasn’t safe with me?” There was a tone of offense in his voice.

“She wasn’t. Given the circumstances, she’s safest as far away from you as possible.”

“Given the circumstances?” Dracula gave him a confused look, “what circumstances? Her mother being a little overbearing isn’t cause for her to run away!”

“You really don’t know?” Jack stepped forwards.

“Tell me, boy.” Dracula challenged.

“Renfield is after her. He wants her blood. He’s not going to stop until he finds her-“

“If that’s the case!” Dracula cut him off, voice suddenly rising with anger, “she would have been safest with me!”

“What? So Renfield could make his way here straight away to kill her?!”

“You think I can’t overpower a newborn?! I was one! I know how weak they are! They are just driven mad by bloodlust! There is no safer place for her than by my side!”

“She’s done with you, Dracula. I suggest you hunt Renfield out yourself and kill him so no harm can come to her. If you do, or if you don’t, she isn’t coming back.”

“She’s not done with me.” He growled and strode towards Jack. His hand easily fit around the younger’s throat and he squeezed hard, “where. is. she?”

“I-“ Jack’s air was running out. Was this it? Was this his fate? Would he die to keep you away from Dracula? He’d have to. He’d grown selfish. You shouldn’t be with Dracula. God knew what would happen to you if you did. If Renfield found you. There was no way on earth or in hell that Jack would let death come to you by Renfield. You needed to stay away from Dracula if you wanted to live for another fifty, sixty, seventy years, “-won’t tell you.”

Dracula let out an anguished cry, anger ripping through his throat and his chest and his head and he squeezed as hard as he could. His eyes narrowed, the anger taking over. Never had he felt so insulted! Never had he felt so betrayed! Oh, he could just explode in this rage! How could this little brat take you away from him? What did he know about your safety? Why wouldn’t he just spill the secret of your location? It would be so easy to mend things!

Heavens above! If he didn’t know how much it would hurt you, he’d kill this little brat right now!

The sheer anger was consuming him, and just for a second, he lost control.

snap!

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, dear god, no.

No, no, no...

Jack’s body fell to the ground in a heap and for the first time since becoming this monster, a toxic concoction of regret, guilt, anger and shock festered inside of him. His chest swelled with pain and he stepped backwards, stumbling over his feet.

Never in his life had such a nasty feeling spread so violently around his body. Never before had Dracula felt guilty for murder. But right now, watching the life leave Jack’s eyes, the colour wash away from his face, he couldn’t help but think of you. Your screams of agony at finding out your best friend - your only friend - had been killed.

If he ever got to see you again...

His only way to find you was dead on the floor in his apartment. Fuck.

“Shit.” He whispered. Jack was dead.

Jack Seward was dead.

He stumbled over his feet once more, rushing to the living room and bursting out to the balcony. The brightness of the sun seared his eyes and he chocked on the fresh air that swirled around him. Jack Seward, your best friend, was dead because of him. He dove from the balcony, turning during his fall to dig his nails into the bricks. It stopped his momentum and he was able to rush down the fire escape. When he reached the bottom, he composed himself, striding out on to the street. As he walked, he ran his hand through his hair, looking around at the people bustling past him.

He had a monster to kill.

~^*^~

Dracula rose with a start, hitting his head on the box that concealed him. What the fuck was that?!

Fever dreams weren’t his thing and he found himself rushing towards his phone.

“Hello?” He breathed a sigh of utter relief.

“Jack?”

“Dracula? It’s four in the morning.” Jack grumbled.

“I know. I had to be sure of something.”

“Don’t tell me that you had that stupid vision again.” Jack sighed and sat up.

“Can’t you tell me where she is?” Dracula whispered.

“No. You promised me you’d find and kill Renfield. When you have, I’ll think about telling you.”

“What do you mean you’ll think about it? You will tell me and that is final.”

Jack hung up. Thank god it had only been a feverish nightmare fuelled by his resting state. Vampires didn’t dream. They hallucinated and everything felt truly real. Dracula had had many over his lifetime. Most that he could recall were of you.

He sighed. He missed you. He missed you terribly. It had been five and a half weeks. He had done nothing but search for any sign of Renfield but he turned out to be difficult to track down. If people had seen him, he was already at least six steps ahead and the trail was most likely bullshit. Finding him before he found you was necessary. There could be no other outcome. He had to.

Over the last five weeks, the tension and the awkwardness had slowly been chipped away and you found yourself able to stay in the apartment with Daniel without too much complaint. Things had been spoken about, mostly your relationship and the turn it had took. Apologies had been given and accepted and closure had been given at last. Finally, it was easier to be around him. Well... had he not been so obvious about his lingering feelings for you, maybe it would be easier. Turns out that his fling with Lucy had been due to lack of attention whilst you were busy studying and his feelings had simply never changed for you since then.

He had read all of your published journals, poured for hours over your works, reading every word in your voice as if you were inside of his head. He had kept up with your career, loving how highly your academic peers spoke of you. You had made a name for yourself and he had supported you from the shadows. The fact alone had you sobbing because... well, you’d missed him too. And you didn’t know if you could ever be with him again, but it was nice to be in his presence.

You had read the message Jack had sent to Dracula. You had immediatly called him (Jack) and screamed down the phone. “How could you do this to me?” “What gave you the right?” “Do you have a death wish?” He had let you abuse him before calmly explaining his plan. You needed to let Dracula go if you wanted to live. Renfield would only find you sooner unless you cut all ties with the vampire. He had not explained this to Dracula. Part of him wanted this breakup to be permanent. He wanted you to realise how happy you were before Dracula, and how happy you could be after. What person wanted a boyfriend who could only supply them with constant hate and fear?

After ten weeks, Dracula was growing impatient. He was searching every inch of the internet trying to find something that would hint to your whereabouts. He was having major withdrawal symptoms. Mid-October was bringing it’s chill as it always did and Dracula would pass couples on the street, bundled together to conserve their warmth. He wished your hand was in his, filling his body with your warmth. He had never felt so cold or so unloved. Just to see your face and maybe he could go on without you. Clicking around a few more times, he found his way to a profile that he knew he’d see you on, just not as recently as this. Three years ago? Certainly. Last night? Most certainly not.

[Long story short... we are official hand holding buddies!]

Your face, beaming with a laugh that Dracula would have loved to hear. Head pushed against his as he laughed, too. Your hands interlocked. Dracula felt sick to his stomach.

Absolutely no way in hell was he going to stand for this.

He just had to remember how to find a location through an IP address.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @savebensolo-ordie

#im not even sorry #is that bad?#something different #dracula #bbc dracula #netlfix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #matthew beard

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the-salty-asian · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Three | Inferno

A/n: In conclusion, I suck at fight scenes. I’d love for some feedback/tips on how to write one.

Warnings: Blood, fighting, stitches, language

Summary: There’s not only one but two big villains rampaging the city of Queens.

Word Count: 3.1k

Since his encounter with the man with metal wings, Peter’s crime fighting world had become a lot larger than helping old Dominican ladies and free churros. He had added extra hours to his patrol after Aunt May turned in for the night, only returning to sleep a few hours before school. Despite Mr. Stark’s scolding, Peter was ready to fill the big shoes that awaited him.

It was well into the night, yet the city of Queens was alive regardless of it being a school night. Peter stifled his fifth yawn since he had perched himself on top of an apartment building. He was starting to regret not grabbing a coffee before slipping out his bedroom window. Below him, a firetruck washed the street in red and white light, sirens blaring. Two more followed in its wake. Peter nearly fell off the building’s ledge in excitement.

“Oh shit, oh shit!”

As if on instinct, he shot a web at the street light below and swung to stick the landing on top of the truck’s ladder. The wind pushed against his mask as the truck sped down the busy streets of Queens toward whatever danger there was.

When the fire engine screeched to a halt, Peter gasped at the scene before him. The lower levels of NYPD’s Precinct 103 spilled an orange glow onto the sidewalk surrounding it. Officers and scientists alike were pouring out of the entryways with the thick, black smoke. The firemen went to work dousing the flames with their hoses but it would’ve been hours before the fire would die out. Peter hopped off the truck and ran to get a better look of the upper windows of the building.

Somewhere amidst the crowd an officer cried out, “It’s Spider-Man!”

“Don’t worry I got you guys!”

Peter tied a web from two of the light posts to a safe patch of sidewalk just below the open windows. He tested it with his foot to make sure it would hold for the people on the fourth floor.

He got the attention of a nearby firefighter, “Have them jump down on this!” Every second the firemen prolonged raising the ladder, was another second adding to the collapse of the building.

With that, he rushed head first into the front entrance and was immediately met with a wall of heat. The first floor had almost emptied out save for the few officers Peter helped direct out. When he looked back to double check the building, a shadow caught his eye. Among the flames stood a tall, dark figure. They remained unmoving as the flames licked up the walls around them. Above, the ceiling groaned under the weight of the other three floors. Peter shot a few webs at the support beams in hopes to stabilize it.

“Hey man I gotta get you outta here! It’s not safe!”

The figure turned to reveal cold, unforgiving eyes peeking through a black hood. He outstretched his arm flashing a gadget that was set into his palm. It started to spew fire as he waved his hand over Peter’s general direction. The flames barely grazed Peter as he flipped to put distance between him and the unnamed man, “Woah watch it, buddy!”

He fired his web shooter back in response, the webbing winding itself around the man’s raised hand. His weapon glowed white hot as it burned straight through the webbing. Peter dodged the second round of flames and landed on top of a desk. A small flame had started on his shoulder that he frantically patted away. The eyes of his suit focused on a duffel bag the man gripped in his right hand.

“I don’t think that belongs to you man!”

He shot a web at the bag and yanked it from the man’s grasp. It flew towards him, slamming into his chest with a thud. The temperature around Peter seemed to burn ten degrees higher with the villain’s steel grey eyes glaring at him. He started to step towards him with a slow menacing pace as if he were about to pounce on his prey.

Peter fired a web at him, “Hey man, stay back!”

Another round of flames spewed from his palm and singed the web in mid air. He crossed the distance between them, unbothered by the flames. Before Peter could process, the man had a hand wrapped around his neck and pushed him against the support beam. The metal seared his back causing a cry to involuntarily rip out of his throat. It only spurred the man on, tightening his grip around the boy’s throat. Gasps and sputters fell from his lips as the hooded figure’s steely eyes seemed to look right through the Spiderman mask. Peter’s mind raced with solutions while he was starting to see spots. Weakly he raised his web shooter at his side. The web shot over the man’s shoulder, attaching itself to a work desk. He tugged hard on the web forcing the desk to fly towards them. It slammed into the man’s lower back. His hand released Peter’s neck with a scream of pain. The boy slid down the beam, gulping the smoke tainted air as if it were water. However, there wasn’t much time for him to catch his breath. The hooded man was on his feet in seconds, a new type of rage blazing in his eyes. Peter followed in suit, careful not to catch his new suit on fire.

“You think you’re so slick, kid!?”he snarled. “I’ll show you slick.”

The first punch he threw, Peter was able to dodge quickly but the second one connected right above his eye. Another landed in his side. He desperately jabbed his fist at any body part he could reach. It connected with the man’s stomach causing a grunt to rumble low in his chest. A swell of pride warmed his chest and he smirked beneath his mask. Adrenaline was roaring through his ears as he continued to dodge a couple more throws. They fell into a rhythm of near misses and a few punches here and there. It seemed as though the man was only absorbing the energy waiting for his time to strike. When he discovered Peter’s slip up, his fist attacked his diaphragm. All of the air escaped Peter’s lungs leaving him stunned while the man showed no mercy.His head grew dizzy with pain and fumes as punch after punch found his body. The man’s fist caught Peter’s jaw and he crumpled on the spot. A malicious laugh escaped the lips of his opponent as he struggled to stand. The hooded man wouldn’t have it, he pulled his leg back and aimed right for Peter’s middle. His steel-toed boot connected over and over with Peter’s side. The boy did his best to shield his ribs with his arms knowing there was no possible way for him to get up. When he was satisfied, the man picked up the long forgotten duffel bag and disappeared into the flames.

The familiar, coppery taste of blood had filled Peter’s mouth. It pooled on his tongue and dribbled down his chin as he laid in the fiery wreckage of the precinct. Overhead, the ceiling rumbled, threatening to come down on top of him. His mind willed him to roll onto all fours followed by the creaking and shifting of the floor above him. Peter staggered to his feet and moved just before a chunk of the ceiling crashed down in the spot he had just been in. With the remaining fumes he had, he crashed through the nearest window, his body falling limply onto the pavement. The October night air soothed his aching lungs and chilled the sweat sticking to his suit. Peter brought two shaky fingers to the fabric covering his eyebrow. It was soaked in blood. A throbbing sensation radiated across his face as blood mixed with sweat. The hooded man in black was nowhere to be seen.

Weakly, Peter lifted his web shooter to aim at the nearest building. His muscles screamed at him in protest as he gripped the web for dear life. The pain in his side was growing more unbearable as the adrenaline dwindled away. He wasn’t going to be able to fix this on his own.

While her father was out, wreaking havoc, y/n had bigger fish to fry: like cramming for her calculus test. In the background, a dolled up news lady rambled on about a fire at Precinct 103. Her concentration was soon broken as the window leading to the fire escape flew open and a large duffel bag landed on the living room carpet with a thud. Y/n watched as he clambered through the window after the bag. The delirious grin on his usually grim face made her body tense. She played it off quickly with the turn of a page in her textbook. Out of the corner of her eye, her father stood with his arms crossed expectantly.

“Good day at the office?”

“A fantastic day!” He shoved the bag into her face, the stale scent of money wrinkled her nose. “Look at all of that eh? Say, what do you want for dinner? I’ll buy you whatever you want!”

“I already ate.”she snipped at him.

“Oh come on, sweetheart! Things are starting to look up! I gave it to tha kid pretty good too! He’ll be laid up for a few days I presume.”

Beside her, her phone went off. Y/n’s stomach dropped as her eyes danced over the text.

Peter:

EMERGENCY COME OVER NOW!!

Donovan’s neck stretched to read her text, “Who’s that?”

Instinctively, y/n clutched the screen to her chest. Her mind raced as she quickly thought of a lie that could save her.

“It’s just Liz, she wanted to know if I’d meet her for a coffee.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes grilling her for the truth. She bit her lip. He only needed to buy it for an hour.

“Vulture’s little girl? I thought you hated her?”

“Well we were able to set aside our differences. Villain’s daughters gotta stick together!.”

Y/n could see him turning the thought over in his head, “I guess it’s ok, as long as you-“

“Bring my knife? Done,”she pulled a smile. “I’ll be home later.”

Donovan’s eyes never left her as she grabbed her knife off the counter and made a gesture of shoving it into her bag. She was out the door before he could change his mind. Across the hall, y/n quietly tested her knuckles on Peter’s door. Within seconds the door was flung open to reveal Peter, eyes brimming with pain and pale with fear.

“Peter!? What happened!?”she feigned a gasp.

Her father’s handy work had stained Peter’s face black and blue, a yellow tint creeped up the side of his neck. Y/n winced at the thought of what damage was hidden underneath his shirt. She also knew what her father was capable of.

“I um- fell down the stairs.”he faked a breathy laugh that was followed with a wince.

“Those are some wicked steps, Parker..”she took his hand in hers and led him towards the bathroom. “Let’s get you all fixed up.”

Y/n settled him on the lid of the toilet, her eyes still drinking in the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. Peter’s eyes had glassed over and she could tell that every breath was a stab in his side, probably some broken ribs.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, “Can you?”

Peter’s head nodded slowly but the pain in his eyes told her a different story. Y/n felt her heart squeeze in sympathy but she quickly pushed it away, this was her father’s masterpiece, and here she was ruining it. With her help, he gingerly lifted the piece of fabric over his head despite his muscles protests.

A genuine gasp escaped her lips as her eyes roamed the exposed skin. Peter’s torso was stained deep purple and yellow. Her fingers hovered slightly over his chiseled abdomen where it seemed to be the worst. For one thing, Donovan Sinclair loved to kick.

“First aid kit?”

Not a word left his mouth as he limply pointed to the cabinet below the sink. Y/n crouched level with the cabinet’s contents, using its door to steady herself. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest that everything had its own place. In no time she had carefully pulled out the plastic box onto the counter and littered its surface with medical supplies. Peter watched her dig through medical supplies while sucking in long painful breaths.

“This is gonna sting.”

Peter pressed his lips together and nodded for her to continue. Y/n cupped his uncut cheek with her palm and felt the boy lean into her touch. She pressed the cotton hard onto the weeping cut on his cheek. Her eyes fell to his knuckles that had turned white in the places that weren’t weeping red.

“Is your aunt home?”

“No,”he winced as she cleaned the cut above his eye. “She went out with some friends tonight.”

Her fingers grazed the wound earning a sharp breath from Peter. It took a lot of control for her lip not to curl up into a smirk. The feeling shortly died as she surveyed the cut that was stretched slightly by her fingers. Peter’s hand shot up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Fear blossomed in her chest at the tight grip that ached around his touch.

“Ow! Can you stop that?”

“Sorry! That’s going to need stitches, Pete. I can take you to the hospital if you-.”

“No,no, no! Y/n, I can’t go to a hospital! May will kill me!”

“Alright, alright calm down. I’ll do them.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “Do you know how to do stitches?”

“Do you want them done yes or no?”

A small noise escaped the back of Peter’s throat. He looked up at y/n through unshed tears and nodded. She balled up a washcloth and handed it to him, “Here, you might need this.” Peter balled up the fabric in his hand and shoved it between his teeth as she watched. “Here goes nothing.”

The second y/n inserted the needle through the skin, her stomach dropped. Her eyes flicked down to Peter who had his eyes screwed shut.

“I need you to relax, Pete.”

“It’s kinda hard when you have a needle in your face.”

She smoothed her hand down to his cheek, “Hey look at me,” Y/n waited until his soft eyes met hers. “I don’t know what actually happened, but whatever it was, you braved the hardest part. This is just.. cleanup duty?”

She forced her lips into the most Oscar Award winning smile she could muster. Just another thread of lies to be woven into her web. This fight was far from over.

Y/n’s reassuring words seemed to push some ease into Peter as she completed a third and fourth stitch. After every loop, she mumbled a hollow yet encouraging phrase. By the time she tied off the thread, Peter’s eyes were laden with sleep.

“Alright I’m gonna get you to bed. Can you stand?” She took Peter’s hand and guided it around her shoulder but he weakly brushed her off. She stepped away from him, eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. His courage was starting to annoy her.

“No, no I’m good.”

Peter placed a shaky hand on the bathroom counter. He scraped together whatever leftover strength he had to push himself up and take a few steps on the tile. However, it wasn’t enough. After three steps his knees collapsed and he braced himself for the floor. It never came. Instead, Y/n had ducked under his arm and her arm wrapped around his torso. A grunt escaped her lips from Peter’s weight. She should’ve just let him fall.

“Yea you’re good alright Parker.”

The trudge to Peter’s room seemed to take hours for only a few feet. His rugged, hot breath on her ear only furthered the ever growing annoyance boiling in her chest. Out of all the people he could’ve asked he just HAD to ask her. Y/n steadied Peter with one hand while the other peeled back the blanket on the bottom bunk. He fell unceremoniously onto it with a sigh followed by a wince of pain. A soft “thank you” fell from his lips.

“It’s nothing really,”she turned to leave. “Have a goodnight, Pete.”

Once again his hand caught her wrist and she felt the same panic arise as she looked down at him. His brown eyes shone with the ghost of tears. They asked the question before he could whisper it to her.

“Will you stay?”

Y/n’s stomach had been thrown off the apartment building. Not can but, will. He didn’t want a bullshit excuse of “it’s getting late”. Peter wanted to know if she cared enough to stay. Not in a million years could she say yes. If her father knew where she was he’d give her a makeover just like the boy in the bed before her. But this is what Donovan Sinclair ordered and so he shall receive. She needed Peter Parker to fall in love with her.

Y/n perched herself on the edge of his bed, “Y-yea of course.”

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut and his shallow breaths filled the room. Y/n ran her fingers through his soft curls. Peter was a teenager, just like her, and yet he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. While most kids stressed over the SATs, he was out getting his ass kicked by guys like her father and Vulture. He certainly didn’t deserve the life that she was living. He could have a real girlfriend, do all the stupid, nerdy things he enjoyed, and be as normal as Peter Parker could be. Hell, any girl that dated Peter would be treated like a princess.

At the thought of that, the urge to stab herself flooded her body. It had to have just been the pity talking. Anger and guilt mixed inside her like an explosive chemistry experiment. Her eyes glared at Peter’s sleeping figure before she quietly scooted off the mattress. Peter Parker was the first step to revenge. For her mother and sister’s sake, she couldn’t get caught up in her own web.

Taglist: @rebekamckenzie @moistpotatobear @blossomreed @pluckypete @nadiawhite03

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