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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year

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The Type You Save - O N E

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

“It’s interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“All of the evidence points to the mafia except that I’m sure the heist will be pulled off by a woman.”

“What makes you say that?”

James looks up at the ceiling while he continues to stroke Alexandra’s back enjoying her warm skin distracting himself. Her head was on his chest, he could feel her star pendant on pressed against him skin.

“James? You gonna answer or keep giving me lightening touches?”

“Lightening touches?”

“You keep running your fingers over my back and it always send little bolts of energy through my body.” Alex smiled up at him. “It’s distracting to me and to you.”

“Sorry love. You just feel so soft.” James kissed her head. “The thief will probably be a woman. The space, the timing, I would use a woman. They can get into tighter places.”

“Oh. That makes sense. So, has she pulled it off yet?” Alex started to kiss on his bare chest.

“Alex,” he warns. He feels her smiling against his skin. “She hasn’t. We have surveillance on the painting. I think it would be suicidal to go in now. No clean entry and exit.”

“Hmmm.” Alex runs her fingers over his abs. James takes in a breath. “So, when do you think?”

“Next day or so. I’ll be ready.” He closes his eyes. “Alexandra, what are you doing?”

“Nothing babe. Just enjoying you.”

“I understand the lightening thing now.” He flipped her so he was on top now. She giggled at him. “And what are you laughing about?”

“Got you right where I wanted you.”

“Really? Who am I to disappoint you?” He leaned down for a searing kiss. Thankful they were still naked from their previous session of lovemaking, he reached down to line himself up with her and pushed in.

She moaned from his length in her, the stretch unbelievable. “Jamie,” she whispered.

“Do you know how much I love it when you call me Jamie?” he said with slow thrust.

“Probably as much as when you call me Allie. Which you hardly ever do.” She took each thrust and matched, loving to hear him groan.

“Oh Allie,” he moaned and sped up his motions. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Jamie.” She nibbled on his neck, and he grunted.

“Cum for me Allie. Please baby.” He reached down to stoke her clit, drawing out the pretty moans he loves.

“Jamie, oh god,” she squealed as she released over him. He thrusted a couple more times and then filled her up.

“Fuck Allie.” He slowed and pressed his forehead on hers. “My little doll. I love you.”

“I love you.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms. Perfection.

*~*

Steve walked over to James’ desk in the precinct. “So do we have a lead on who it could be?”

“Possibly. I think it’s someone they’ve used before, but this thief has been inactive for a few years. Her MO hasn’t been seen in New York. Last time was in Pittsburgh. Before that Boston.”

“No name?”

“Just an alias. And it’s funny.”

Buck, how is it funny?

“It’s ‘The Cat.’ CatWoman.” He chuckled. “Like from the comics.”

Steve laughed as well. “That is funny. Did Pittsburgh or Boston have any photos?”

“Just some grainy surveillance photos.” He stood up and looked out the window. “Shit, when did I become night?”

“About an hour ago.” Steve looked at his watch. It’s almost 8.

“Shit. I was supposed to meet up with Alex for dinner. She is going to kill me.”

“Give me five Bucky. Then I’ll lights and sirens you home.” He put a file on his desk. “Boston sent a list.”

James reviewed the list and two names stood out.

Christian Johnathon Grey

Alexandra Nicole Richards.

“Bucky is that…”

“Oh fuck.” James grabbed his gun and badge. “We got to find her now!”

*~*

A nightmare. His worst nightmare comes to life. James raced through the empty offices, gun in hand. All of the investigating, all the time effort and resources and it was 30 minutes ago he figured out the man behind the heist. And the woman he was sending in. He knew she had a past. She never talked about it, just small comments here or there. He always made a note to ask but he never did. God he wish he had. Maybe it wouldn’t have blind sided him. He assumed it was bad. But not this. What did Grey have on her to do this? “Steve, I’m approaching the office.”

Copy, still have surveillance and they aren’t picking up anything.

Please God, don’t let her be in there. James slowed as he approached the door.

“Bucky, how did she get involved? How do you know it will be here?”

“I just know. We’ll talk about this later. Breaching the door.” James opened the door and looked. He didn’t see anything and turned to walk back out when he saw a figure in the doorway. Dressed in a skintight black suit, googles perched on top of her dark hair, a mask covering her face. She looked like a cat, causing him to snort. But he knew those eyes. And the necklace around her neck, peaking from under her suit.

He turned off his comms. “Alex. Allie, please don’t do this.”

She tilted her head and waved the case in her hand. She wore gloves and for a moment, James was proud of his girl for least trying not to get caught. She moved around him, spinning him until her back was now to the window. That’s when he noticed it was open window.

“Alexandra, I can still help. We can fix this. We can go home. Please baby, don’t do this.” James lowered his weapon.

His cat burglar tapped the watch on her wrist. She blew him a kiss as a tear fell. James’s phone beep and he looked down for one second. One second for her to make it to the windows and jump.

“No! Alex no!” He watched as she extended her arms and the squirrel suit picked her up and she floated away. He bowed his head. He checked his phone.

A: I’m sorry Jamie, I have to leave town for a little bit. I did this for family. Family over everything, remember that. I’ll call when I’m safe. I love you and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Allie.

Steve rushed in. “Alex?”

James turned on his comms. “It wasn’t her.” James looked up at him. “It wasn’t her because she would have listened to me.” He looked at the frame of the missing painting. “Check it for prints. I need some air.” He pulled the comms from his ear.

Steve followed him out as the CSI team came in. When they got into the stairwell, Steve stopped James. “Bucky?”

“I didn’t want it to get out that it was her. It was Alex.” He handed off the phone. “Grey blackmailed her. He had to have. And I’m not stopping until we figure out what happened.” He took off his watch, a gift from her and looked at the inscription. Family over everything. He looked at Steve. “I can do this alone if I have to.”

“End of the line Buck. Always. Let’s go get that son of a bitch.”

*~* Three years later *~*

She smiled at him when she gave him the watch. The scene morphed and she was in her catsuit, watching the tear fall. She jumped and she was gone.

He woke up with a start, sweat on his forehead. A nightmare. James sat up and looked around. His room still felt unfamiliar, cold. Alex had left their apartment warm, her style a comfort. But he was hardly there the last year or so. The memories were just too much. Perhaps the threat he and Steve had received from the mob was a good thing.

Except now he was farther away from mob boss Christian Grey. His only link to finding Alex. Three years since she literally jumped out of his life. No leads on her whereabouts. Just a rumor that she was out west. But he and Steve relented, hitting place after place, looking for anything. Eventually, they took down 80 percent of Grey’s businesses. If he couldn’t find her, he would take down the man that split his family apart.

Grey issued a hit on them. $2 million for each. The police commissioner wouldn’t allow them to sacrifice themselves, so he got them jobs in San Francisco. “Barnes, Rogers, you are the best, but this would be a fucking shit storm if Grey is able to take you out. I’m sorry but you’re out of the NYPD.”

“Sir, please don’t so this.” James pleaded with the commissioner. “He’s the only link to her.”

“Barnes, I know it’s been hard without Alex, but this is for the best. She would kill me if I let you die.” He placed his hand on his shoulder as James bowed his head, hands on hip. “That’s why I’m sending you to the west coast. Your new commissioner, Stark, owed me a favor. I’m sorry.”

That was two weeks ago. Steve and James found a big apartment to rent, they met with their new division and were adapting to being inspectors of the San Francisco Police Department. He looked at the clock. Six AM. He sighed and got up. Might as well go for a run and grab coffees. He got up, got into his sweats and stretched. He looked at the picture of Alex and kissed it, tradition before he left his home. “I love you Alex,” he whispered. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and was out.

He put the map on his phone, still getting a bit lost in the neighborhood. It was still a bit misty, the fog not having rolled all the way back out to the water. So different from New York. He ran until he hit five miles and close by his apartment. He stopped at the corner coffee shop and ordered coffees and Danishes for him and Steve. He glanced around the shop out of instinct.

*~*

Alex took the morning since she was by herself. A rarity nowadays. She went down to her favorite shop and took a table in the back. The shop looked over the city, the bridge in the background. Three years in the city but it was quiet. She hadn’t seen anyone from her past, though they tried. Nate had tried reaching her on her secure email. Walker had sent a threat. But she managed to avoid Grey’s best men. She pulled up her tablet to check on James.

She had an alert set for him and Steve. She read about all of his busts, trying to bring Christian down. She closed her eyes, remembering that last night. How broken he looked when he realized she would be the one to steal the painting. She thought she had walked away from that life. She had found her family in James with Steve acting like her big brother. Family over everything, she reminded herself. She did what she had to do to protect them.

Returning to her tablet, she noticed that for the last couple of weeks, their names were not in the news. This concerned her. She hacked into the NYPD police database, and she saw that their named were no longer listed as officers. She sat back, nerves taking over. She searched the obituaries, but James and Steve were not there either. She made a call to her best friend.

“Nat?”

“Ale, its early,” she heard the grumble of Natasha Romanoff, hacker Extraordinaire.

“I know Nat I’m sorry. I’m just freaking out right now.”

“What’s going on babe?”

“James and Steve haven’t been in the news for a few weeks, and I can’t find them anywhere.”

“Ok hang on.” She heard Nat get up and start tapping. “Ok, I went into the personnel database. NYPD should really work on securing that better.”

“Nat focus please.”

“Sorry, sorry. Looks like there was a hit put on them from Grey. $ 2 Million. Jeez, that’s steep.”

“I was expecting that.” Alex shook her head, fear starting to run through her body. “Did they do something?”

“Yeah, they were terminated from the force and transferred to another department. Says files sealed.”

“Can you get around?”

“No, this went into the commissioner’s private server and at least that is secure.”

“So, they’re alive?”

“Yeah, just transferred.”

“It’s ok. At least they are out of New York.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Nat.”

“No problem, babe. Hey are you out? Where is…”

“Wanda,” she simply said.

“Gotcha. Ok. Well relax. I’m sure they will pop up again in the news. Heroes tend to do that.”

“I’m sure.” Alex hung up and sipped her coffee, starting out the window lost in thought.

*~*

James leaned against the counter, enjoying the view. The San Francisco Bridge was still something he was a tourist about. He wanted to visit it, do the tour and stuff. He took another glance around, habit as an officer making him check his surroundings. He noted the older couple, seated together on the same side, holding hands. His heart ached at the sight. He noted a young woman with long dark hair. She reminded him of Alex, her hair longer than Alex though. A father and son chatting about school. His name was called for his ordered.

He got up and went to the register to pay. He looked again at the young woman and her head turned slightly. Her profile was familiar, her long lashes framing her eyes. He sucked in a breath. “Alex,” he muttered. He went to approach her. “Excuse me?”

Alex looked up to see a face she wasn’t expecting. The bangs on her face changing her look but the colored contacts she wore also helped, leaving her eyes currently green. “Yes, can I help you?”

“Sorry, you looked like someone… I’m sorry,” James apologized. He turned away but glimpsed a necklace.

“It’s alright,” she said. She got up quickly.

“Wait,” he grabbed her arm and studied her. “What’s your name?”

“Nicola. Can you please let me go?” She twisted, allowing the pendant of the necklace to show. She got her arm free, and she exited the shop.

James froze. The pendant, a star in rubies. The exact necklace he had gifted her on her last birthday together. “I’ll be back for this,” he told the waitress. “Excuse me.” He ran out of the shop.

Alex walked quickly, trying to remember to breath. He isn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be in New York. Except he had a hit on him, and he was moved. She felt a hand on her arm, and she was pulled behind the building. “What the fuck Alexandra?”

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #the type you save #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x ofc #Steve rogers #detective AU

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Monster Monster

I wholeheartedly blame this pic for the existence of this fic. I just wanna hug him and ruffle his hair.

Summary: Parent Teacher Conferences are very scandalous.

a/n: This is actually one of my few fics where reading some of my previous fics will help. I highly recommend reading Of Midnight Smoothies and Murder Mysteries to get a better feel on Dick and Reader’s relationship but anything on the Dick Grayson masterlist works too. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @americasmarauders for proofreading. Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @batarella for help with the ending.

warnings: A slur is mentioned but it gets shut down. Also, swearing.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Tt, stop staring at me.”

You bite back a smile and what was probably a laugh rising in your throat. “Hmmm, no.” You hum, carding your fingers through Damian’s curls. The corners of your mouth twitch into a frown when you feel an angry bump against your fingers. It’s dry and there seems to be no break in the skin as far as you could tell. You let a little sigh of relief escape you which has the unintended consequence of upsetting the gremlin in front of you.

Damian attempts to swat your hand away, snarling as he did. You grin at him, all sharp teeth and pettiness. You, being childish, do not take your hand away and instead ruffle his hair more. An adorably petulant pout settles on Damian’s mouth making the kid look ten-years-old for once. It takes everything in you not to squeal in delight.

“Unhand me. I do not require your mothering and you would do very well to leave the scolding to Richard or Pennyworth.” You can easily picture Alfred scolding Damian but Dick? You try to picture Dick, hand on his hip, trying his damndest to be mean to the kid but you just couldn’t. Sure, Nightwing can be terrifying, even Batman but Dick? Especially with a kid? Not even feasible. You snort openly, the noise echoing in the deadly silent room. The woman on the other side of the room sitting next to a boy with a faceful of bruises and probably a couple of chipped teeth glares at you. Specifically, the woman scowls at your arm, skin festooned with bangles of coiled serpent tails and glittering blades. You fight the urge to stick your tongue out at her. Instead, you tug a bit at your sleeves, baring the golden lines streaked with old gashes. A low humorless laugh escapes you causing her scowl to deepen.

Damian follows your line of sight. His face folds in utter contempt. The boy next to her flinches. Their size difference made this all the funnier. “[What did he do?]” you ask in what you hope are the correct words in Arabic. Damian crosses his arms not meeting your gaze. His leg kicks out, the restlessness thrumming in his bones. “[Your accent is atrocious.]”

Your mouth twitches uncontrollably, edging into a fond smile. You tamp it down with a click of your tongue lest the little demon tear your head off. “[I’m out of practice, child,]” Damian grabs at a space beside him only for his hand to close on nothing. Something inside you dies when you stop yourself from cackling. Thank goodness, Bruce has--had--the good sense to take the kid’s katana away.

“[Anyway, what did he do?]”

“[How are you so sure he did something?]”

“[Because you’re a brat but not stupid. You are by far the most annoyingly reasonable child I have had the displeasure of conversing with.]” Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. It seems the assumed hatred was mutual. You watch as he folds his face back into a glower, not quite fast enough to evade your attention but certainly fast enough to fool the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, you’re used to the acrobatics of faces, the chaotic cacophony of microexpression. Most people in your life are, after all, awful at broadcasting their feelings even when it was sorely needed. This is probably why you gravitated to Dick so easily. The man believed in openness, in communication.

Distantly, you can hear the woman across from you tap her foot impatiently against the carpet. A flick of your eye tells you she was sneering at both of you likely eavesdropping (and failing) on your conversation. Why she needs to know what you and a ten-year-old with a stick up his ass were talking about you weren’t sure. Damian turns his head slightly towards you, angling his chin upward to mask the uncertainty in his posture. “[If you must know, he-]”

“Gypsies”

The syllables ring like a loud staccato of gunshots despite how quietly she’d hissed it. You freeze. You can feel Damian stiffen right beside you. Understanding flowed into you molten and bubbling. You feel your throat itch, unkind words coalescing into a lump in your throat. You turn your body to Damian who was now still but you can feel the anger wicking off him. You sling your arm over the head of the chair behind him drawing his attention back to you.

He arches a brow at you, challenging. The expression falters when the next few words leave your mouth.

“[You’re off the hook.]”

Principal Jameson is a nasally man. It isn’t his anything to do with his voice. Though, you would be remiss to say that his voice was pleasant. You’re actually half tempted to turn your bad ear on him, block out the words coming from him but that would negate the point of you coming here. His voice isn’t that unpleasant but his entire demeanor rubbed you the wrong way. You’ve seen jellyfish with more backbone than this man. Then again, this might just be a by-product of your presence. Dick, and several other batbrats, have helpfully informed you that you were in fact pants pissing scary to civilians. You would like to say you couldn’t see it but standing in front of this man it was clear as day.

“Y/n L/n,” you offer congenially. His shoulders ease a fraction but did not offer you a hand. You smother a sigh before offering an additional “I believe Mr.Grayson-Wayne had informed you that I would be coming in his stead to discuss this-” Shit show, your mind supplies but thankfully, your mouth was quick enough to bite it back. “- incident.” Beside you Damian scoffed. You stop yourself from kicking the kid because that really would not do.

“Yes, well, Ma’am your-” Jameson halts frankly unsure of your relationship to Damian because of course, Dick would leave the leg work to your socially allergic ass. You make a mental note to kick him later. “- charge.” you supply, feeling a modicum of sympathy for the drowning man.Your eyes flick to Damian. His face is impassive, ire still directed at the thirteen-year-old sniveling behind his mother. The term is too cold for your taste but as of right now that’s all you were. Maybe you’ve finally found a Robin you wouldn't get attached to.

“Well, ma’am, you see your charge, Damian, he’s punched another student and has yet to even apologize. He even started a full on brawl.”

“Mhmm, I see,” you drawl tilting your head. You feel Damian stiffen at the ease of your response. You don’t have to look at his face to know that he was glaring at you with something in his eyes withering from the betrayal. The woman across from nods agreeably as if you had said something sensible. Jameson for his part nearly sighs with relief. You click your teeth a little irritable from their responses but more fascinated than anything. ‘I see’ is barely an answer but they each filled in the gaps with their own assumptions. “And has that young man over there apologized for what he said to Damian? Or for the lump on Damian’s head? Surely, you sent Damian to the clinic as well.” you voice out looking as scandalized as possible.

The room froze.

Your eyes will probably roll into the back of your head before your meeting is done. Judging from Jameson’s posture, they didn’t. They should have at least checked if the kid had a concussion. A familiar sort of ire rose in you. Oh boy, you’re going to have a field day with these people. You sigh in exasperation before continuing. “Not only did you neglect to send him to the clinic to check on the lump on his head, but you were also planning to let the other boy off the hook?” you accuse, voice rising with some effort. Your voice has a tendency to draw low when your temper is flaring. It’s an intimidation tactic you'd learned from a while ago. It would probably be ill advised to use it on a man who looked like he was a second away from a heart attack.

Jameson leans forward, reaching out appeasingly.“Ma’am, we-”

“From what I recall, Gotham Academy has a strict zero tolerance policy on derogatory language, does it not?” You cut him off, voice suddenly vicious. You shift your body in front of Damian putting yourself between him and everyone else in the room. He bristles at the gesture but you and your habits aren’t exactly concerned with his pride.

“Ma’am I-“

“I rest my case. Please, feel free to contact Mr.Grayson-Wayne if you have more to say.” You settle a hand on Damian’s shoulder. You’re surprised he didn’t fight you or swat your hand away. Taking it as permission, you pull him closer to you as you leave the red faced woman and the paling man gob smacked and silent. Damian himself doesn’t make the sound as you made your way down the hall. You squeeze his shoulder gently hoping it comes across as a reassuring gesture. His posture does not loosen but you do not let him stray from you. You close your eyes as the elevator doors shut.

“I did not require your assistance.”

“I know.” Of course, he doesn’t. He is a Robin and an Al Ghul but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna get it. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, the dull beat only serving to irritate your nerves. You swear the traffic in Gotham was somehow infinitely worse than everywhere else in the world even with working traffic lights. Maybe that’s why there were so many crazy people here. Maybe Bruce should have invested his money on better roads. Maybe-

Your eyes slide towards Damian who is somehow shrinking and pressing into the side door. Still, his face is twisted skeptically and braced for a continuation to your statement. You looked heavenward not even hiding the weariness in your smile. The brat is truly a bat-- suspicion and all. You turn your body towards him, opening up your posture. You fold your leg and rest your chin on your arm. Damian meets your gaze head on, looking imperious as he crosses his arms over his chest. His posture is artificial, probably uncomfortable from the weight of your attention.

You roll your shoulders and reshape your features, reconfiguring yourself from understanding to teasing. “I know. I know but you see, they needed telling off and your tiny gremlin ass isn’t scary enough. And, I promise I won’t tell Dickolas that you defended him so vehemently.” you wink, a conspiratorial grin spreading across your face. Damian straightens, his body is bowed like he was about to spring for your throat but the shape his limbs took on was more natural and seemingly relaxed. The knot in your shoulder loosens. You reach over and ruffle his hair again. He really is still a kid. You stare each other down. Your smile is as unwavering as his glower.

Both of your stomachs grumble. The sound was loud and abrasive in the closed space of the car. You check your watch and hum, shifting back into your seat. Wordlessly, you switch on your signal light.

You leaf through the pages of the thoroughly used book in your hands, eyes skimming through the blocks of texts not really absorbing any of it. You never really found the appeal in fiction. The stories are too neat compared to what you experienced daily. You suppose there is simplicity in them but you find that in nonfiction, the kind of books that explained the mechanics of things. They made sense of the world and were much more useful in your opinion. You’re much more interested in the messy scribbles on the margins, the etchings of a loud mind on yellowing pages. Jason’s notes were written in the same tone of voice he used when he spoke, deceptively layman but upon further inspection was frighteningly insightful. You smile at the little comments and complaints, the snarky little remarks. Remnants of the little boy he had been before. You frowned. You should probably give this back to him once you have the chance and maybe come up with some excuse of why you still have it. Or you can just keep it.

You look up at Damian who is drumming his fingers impatiently against the lacquered table. His posture is artificially relaxed, likely something he learned from the league or maybe all nervous gremlins do it. You look down at the book again. The sight reminds you of Jay. You tip your head, the loud thunk of your skull is felt more than heard since it was your bad ear that is pressed against the glass. The sound startles Damian who was deep in thought. You hold out the book to him. He must be bored waiting for your order. He pointedly ignores you.

"I don't need that childish drivel." He snipes. You click your teeth feeling a little defensive of the book.

You sound exactly like your grandfather, you think but have enough sense to keep it to yourself. No child needs to be compared to Ra's Al Ghul even if he is a brat.

"Not a fan of-" You look at the book's spine and frown. "-Robert Stevenson?" What kind of dork reads Robert Stevenson for fun? Oh wait, it's the same dork that quotes Shakespeare while bashing heads.

"I have no need for such things."

Of course, he didn’t.

"No, I suppose you don't need anything with the actual text but the margins are quite fascinating." You hold out the book to him again. His eyebrows shoot up looking at you skeptically as he reaches for it. There is no actual written indication that it was Jay's and the kid likely hasn't spent enough time with Jay to actually tell from the way it's written. You look out the window to turn your good ear to him, listening for any reactions he might have. Every now and then you hear a huff of amusement. You smother the smile threatening to form on your lips with your hand.

"Well, the person who owned this certainly had a lot to say." Damian says carefully, handing the book back.

"Jay really was a mouthy kid."

Damian looks at you, little face scrunching up in confusion. You suddenly notice just how easily the booth swallows him up. Why is he so tiny? "If this is Todd's, why do you have it?"

You clasp the book in your hands, your thumb tracing over the creases. "He leant me this book shortly before he died. He-- Well, I told him that I wasn't fond of adventure stories. I prefer books about science and culture. They're much more useful, yanno?" Damian gives a slight nod. You relax into your seat with his understanding. "Well, he thought it was just that I've never read a good one so he gave me this one. Never quite finished it though." you admit a little sheepish after realizing just how sentimental you felt. Your eyes trace over Damian's expression. It's clear that the sentimentality bled through your words and some childish part of you winces at the vulnerability of it. Damian says nothing and doesn't even sneer in derision.

You hum, the tune musical but offkey. “Jason, actually did what you did today awhile ago.” Just like that you begin down a rabbit hole telling the little gremlin about all the stupid shit the older bats have gotten into. And oh boy, there’s a lot.

“So do either of you want to explain what happened and why GAs headmaster called me sounding like he was gonna piss himself?”

“Hmmm, probably not ” you say around your spoonful of mahalabia, not even looking up from your book. Hilariously enough, Damian had also elected to leave Dick’s presence unacknowledged and busy with his own mahalabia. Dick scoot into your side of the booth, purposefully squishing you against the wall with a shiteating grin. He loops his arm around you and pulls you closer, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blanch and push half heartedly at his chest as he laughs. That laugh makes your heart warm and a relenting smile spreads across your features softening them. Your body twitches forward to kiss but you still when Dick freezes instead you plant a kiss on his cheek as well. Dick relaxes at the familiarity of it and you two settle down.

Damian stares at both of you befuddled. A heat creeps up your cheeks realizing that Dick is practically sitting on you. Dick, on the other hand, seems perfectly content with your current lack of personal space, so you leave it alone despite the incredulous look Damian is giving both of you. Dick snatches up your spoon taking a heap from your dessert. You make an offended noise in the back of your throat which he simply answers with another broad smile. Your lip twitches uncontrollably and your shoulders go slack.

“So what happened?”

You and Damian exchange a look. Damian rolls his eyes at you and you shrug at him performatively. “Nothing.” you two say in a chorus of nonchalance. It only succeeds in annoying Dick, so it was partially successful.

Dick pouts taking another bite of your desert. You stare in disbelief as the grownass man sitting next to you attempts to give you the puppy dog eyes as he eats your desert. You sign on exasperation because it's working and the bastard knows it. Richard John Grayson-Wayne is a manipulative asshole and you are a certified sucker.

You turn to Damian pleadingly begging him to please either help you or end you. Instead, he simply looks the two as if searching for an answer to a question forming in his mind. You run your hand over your face ready to concede when something clicks.

"Man-Bat got into GA and Damian fought him off." you say, praying Dick would catch on to the game. For a terrifying moment, he doesn’t. He blinks at you in confusion and your stomach sinks then a smile slowly spreads across his face lighting up every feature. Your heart swells at the sight.

"Bullshit. What was Man-Bat doing in GA?"

"Dunno,maybe bullying students. I don't know what bat creatures get up to." you say grinning. The picture becomes clear from every outlandish story. To your surprise, Damian joins in with a few vague details of his own giving even more details than you'd initially gathered.

Lunch passes pleasantly with outlandish stories and good food.

“NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne, New Face of Wayne Enterprises, Caught in a Torrid Love Affair with a Mystery Woman. Who Could this Exotic Beauty Be?”

“NEWS: Young Wayne Heir Being Extorted by Mystery Woman?”

“NEWS: Wayne Heir with Secret Family?”

Dick wants to evaporate somehow. He stares at the headlines mortified beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe the floor will be merciful and it’ll finally swallow him as Jason reads another headline in a ridiculous newsreel voice.

“No, no wait. This one is fucking priceless!”

“Jason, please, I am begging you. STOP.” Dick whines, his face flattening against his work table. Tim shrugs, an amused smile adorns his face. Dick is going to scream. “Tim, please please please, make him stooop.” Tim ignores Dick in favor of scrolling through his own tablet looking, frankly unsympathetic.

“Oh a tryst!”

“Jason, you are making it sound so much worse.”

“Dunno, big bird, some of these make it sound like you fucked her over a table in the restaurant.” Jason watches in absolute delight as his older brother attempts to merge with the work bench, the tanned skin of his neck and ears burning a bright shade of crimson. Tim snickers, unhelpfully. Dick loved that his younger brothers were getting along for once. He just hated that for some reason they just had to be united against him. “All I did was kiss her on the cheek and eat her food.”

Jason gasps theatrically, feigning fainting. “Premarital kissing?! Dick, how could you? What’s next? Premarital hand holding? Think of the children.” Jason exclaims, dramatically pointing to Damian who at this point had been ignoring the ruckus Jason was causing.

“Jason, you’re awful and you’re being extremely dramatic.”

“Dick, you don’t exactly have any room to talk in that department.”

“Yeah, Mr. Pretty Man Down, Baby Bird has a point.” Jason says smugly as he offers Tim a fist bump which Tim reciprocates by shaking Jason's fist, a joking smile on his face. Jason snorts as if getting the joke or whatever movie reference this was from.

Tim's face folds into a barely held back smile. The laughter bubbling in the back of his throat straining his features. “I will say it is really funny that they didn’t recognize Damian.”

“You know how they are. They probably came up with something like the whole Damian being Bruce’s kid was actually just a cover up for Dick.” Somewhere in the background Damian makes a very displeased noise but Dick can't be bothered to lift his head to check.

“Please no. That doesn’t even-”

“Here’s one, NEWS: Dick Grayson-Wayne’s Baby Mama? Who is this mysterious woman?” Tim reads out flatly.

“The PR team is going to kill me. No, wait. Y/n is going to kill me first.”

“She won’t. She probably finds this hilarious.”

“How would she even find this funny?”

“Well, she does enjoy your suffering- Oh shit. This one might piss her off.” Jason clears his throat, sliding back into the newsreel voice. “DICK GRAYSON, HANDSOME PLAYBOY - WITH YET ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND - WILL HE EVER SETTLE DOWN?”

Dick is half tempted to throw his own tablet at the wall. What did he do to deserve this? You certainly don’t.

“Hey, at least, they called you handsome.” Tim laughs placatingly. It doesn’t work, of course.

Dick looks up at his little brother ruefully. “Oh yeah because the stuff about my looks was definitely the issue.”

“Well considering your morning routine...”

“I haven’t even been on a date so who are these other girlfriends?!”

“Well, me and Jason thought the same thing.” Tim shoots down sneering. When did his sweet baby brother turn to the dark side? Likely, Jason’s influence but deep down he knows Tim has always been capable of evil. Jason is cackling proudly.

“I don't see why you're concerning yourself with this drivel.” Damian says, swiping the tablet right in front of Dick forcing him to look up. Dick smiles at him wearily. “Dami, it’s a little hard when a photo of me kissing y/n on the cheek is plastered everywhere with weird headlines.” Damian tilts his head considering it but he shakes his head muttering something about pointlessness.

“Goddammit, Disco Stick!” The sound of your voice ringing out into the bunker sends their banter crashing to a halt. Dick feels his heart jump to his throat. He-- This was how he was going to die and for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it or not. You stand at the doorway haloed in bright light. At least, his angel of death would be the prettiest one, he thinks-- all the oxygen leaving his lungs.

Crumpled in your fist was a newspaper. Dick can feel his brothers take a step back as you draw near. Your footfalls were as steady as a pulse which made Dick’s own heart rate ratchet up. Your face is carefully impassive the way it always is when your anger was dosed with something else. Dick is sincerely hoping Jason is right about you being amused by the headlines.

You stop in front of him, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. You glower down at him frankly looking murderous before you snort and your face breaks into a smile. The thick tension in the air dissipates and the room releases its collective breath. The smile on your face grows even brighter. Nope, this is how Dick dies, his breath catching in his lungs as his mind fizzes out from the sight of your smile.

“I’m sorry?” Dick lifts himself off the table just barely, still bracing for any sudden wave of anger that will, justifiably, roll over you at some point.

You lean your body on to the spot next to him, letting the table support your weight. Straightening the newspaper in your hands, you frown. “I look terrible in this.”

“You look beautiful.” Dick blurts out. You raise your brow at him incredulously. Jason folds over trying to hold back laughter, his shoulders trembling. Tim just shrinks from second hand embarrassment.

“No, she is correct. She looks repulsive.” Damian says flatly as he snatches the paper from you.

You let out a breathy laugh. “To be fair, anyone would look repulsive next to professional pretty boy Dickie Wayne.” There was no sharpness in your teasing. You look at the photo over Damian’s shoulder. It was a cute photo actually. Dick’s arm loops around your shoulder as he gives you a kiss on your cheek as Damian blanches at Dick’s very public display of affection. It was hilariously easy to see where they got the idea that you two were a couple. You weren’t. You haven’t been for awhile. The thought wrenches something a dull ache inside you. You flatten your lips preventing the edges from dipping into a frown.

A look crosses between Jason and Tim. Tim leans over, asking in a hushed whisper, “I thought they were back together.”

“Dunno they act like it.” Jason shrugs watching your movement. As if to prove his point, you and Dick lean into each other’s space as you bicker about the merits of Gothamite photographers. Jason is half tempted to shove you two together.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, finally leaning away from Dick.

“Nothing-”

“They were pondering the state of your relationship. I myself have been pondering it.”

For a moment, your eyes meet. For a moment, you are back in a drab hotel in Moscow. For a moment, you are crying your heart out in his arms trying to push him away.

You click your teeth and stare Damian in the eyes not entirely sure what kind of emotions they were betraying. “We were a thing.” Damian’s brow shoots up. You hear someone’s hand slap against their forehead.

You flush wanting to disappear but hold your stance. You hear Dick chuckle beside you as he stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Something in you eases with the closeness, like a gap being filled. “We used to be a couple.” Dick supplies, saving you from your flailing. You tap your finger against the back of his hand as a silent thank you. He taps yours twice in reciprocation. You look down trying to hide a smile.

Jason and Tim look at each other again and nod.

“We should probably go.” Jason says carrying Damian under his arm.

“Todd, unhand me! We are not done here!”

“We’ll see you two later.” Tim waves giving Dick a knowing smile. Dick’s heart jumps up to his throat while his stomach drops to the floor. Is this really the time for his brother’s to play cupid?

You lean in, letting your body press into Dick’s side as you listen to their footsteps fade away. Your head settling on his shoulder hand bracing you against the workbench. You let the stillness settle and make everything around you more solid.

Dick shifts a bit, his fingers lacing in with yours. The gesture makes your heart twinge, the chasm in your chest yawning with longing. You swallow. The air is thick with unspoken words like smoke clogging up your lungs. You think that if you could just pluck the right one out of thin air, you could clear the air.

‘I love you’ itches in the back of your throat but what right did you have to say that to him even after all this time.

Beside you, Dick is smiling and relishing your presence. The silver glint of your earring winking at him from beneath your hair. He had gotten you that on your first date, a little souvenir you got to commemorate the occasion.

Dick pivots in front of you making your breath catch. His free hand brushing your hair behind your ear revealing the silver robin on your ear. Silver robins. You had at the time laughed at the absurdity of it but here they were years later. Dick’s hands settle on either side of you boxing you in against the table. Even when he’s got you trapped like this, you feel at ease knowing Dick would never hurt you. Dick leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still intertwined with yours. Your pulse is loud in your ears. You lean your forehead against his, eyes sliding close soaking up the contact.

“It’s always been you.” Dick says breathlessly. The words do not register, too dreamlike in their conception. You always hoped and wished that you could take it back, that you had never left, that he would love you the same way he did before but you were never foolish enough to hold on to things like that with both hands. Yet here Dick was whispering things that you only let yourself dream of.

“It’s always been you.” He repeats as if the repetition could make it more real. You swallow the lump in your throat trying to find your voice but you’re afraid that once you speak, the room would catch fire and the dream would dissolve into harsh reality.

Dick gently cups your face and for a moment you let yourself be lost in the sea of blue. The stinging in your eyes makes you blink even if you don’t want to. You lick your lips as if somewhere on them were the right words.

You can’t even fathom the combination of words that could encapsulate the cocktail of longing and love you felt for him.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip as your eyes focus on his lips. You swallow again your throat feeling thick even as you lean into his space, pushing off the work bench. Your nose rubbing against his, his long lashes fluttering against your cheek and tickling your skin. Dick leans in, his lips on yours, the pressure barely enough to make contact. You twitch forward, lips melting against his. The world around you stills and disintegrates leaving only him in its wake.

The kiss is all tender softness, a promise of love and loyalty quietly exchanged between you. A delicate push and pull. Undemanding yet uncompromising in its gentle intensity.

You both pull back, only barely. Your skins still thrum with hunger for contact. Dick leans in again, his lips brushing against yours making them tingle at the sensation. Murmured breaths exchanged between you. This time you both find the right words.

Dick turning to reader seeing the familiar glint of her earing

“I still love you.”

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

I was thinking it was just them in the cave standing next to each others fingers twining with each other leaning into each other's space

he brushes the strands of her hair away

After brushing her hair away he presses his forehead against hers and he just kind of comes out with it

like he'd been holding back on saying it but couldn't anymore

Why not have the reader do something like this?

What if she nudges her nose against his? Or rubs her nose against his, like an Eskimo kiss? And it’s silent, her eyelashes flutter against his cheek. They say in Inuit, when you feel eyelashes stroke on your skin like that, it’s a way of saying “I love you” without actually saying it.

And maybe Dick knows that? Without her actually saying the words and he just smiled and captures her lips in a delicate kiss. And when they pull back, they both say it at the same time against each other’s lip, all hushed and murmured?

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

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #Damian Wayne #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x sister!reader #dc x reader #dc reader insert #merc!reader

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oh-no-a-whovian · 3 years

Text

Despite my claws (love me) Part 3

18+

Summary: Missy Moreno is missing right after fighting a notorious villain. Marcus will do whatever it takes to save his little girl. Even working with that villain to find her.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x villain-reader

Warnings: Swears, violence, injury, weapons, Mentions of abuse and trauma. Brutal murder. If there’s others let me know

Word count: 5916

Masterlist PT1 PT2 PT4

The sun light streams through cracks in the curtains and you feel nauseous as the train starts to creak and move along the rail. A small cloud of dust plumes into the air as you drop Marcus onto the bed and he leans up on his elbows, finally conscious enough to move. You can feel his eyes on you as you stand frozen in front of him, looking around the space and feeling the sway of the train. It really is the same. Maybe more dust but nothing has moved. You’re willing to bet your old outfits are still in the wardrobe. It’s like you never left and it makes you want to burn it all down.

“You weren’t planning on telling me that he’s your father, were you?” you can hear him but you just can’t react, can’t move, you feel paralysed in place. You really never wanted to be here ever again. Last time you were on the train you barely had a mind of your own. He allowed you a little freedom but ultimately, he treated you like every other person he’d taken. He’d treated you like a slave. “[Y/N]” Marcus calls, pulling you from the whirlpool of your thoughts as he grabs a hold your hand. “Are you okay?” he asks when you finally look into his eyes.

“Do I seem ok to you?” you tell him honestly with a sneer curving your lips. “I thought it seemed pretty obvious that I didn’t want to be anywhere near this fucking train, Marcus. Now let’s kill everyone and get this over with.”

“No! No killing”

“Let’s get one thing straight.” You snap, climbing on top of him, pinning his wrists above is head with one hand and wrapping the other around his throat as he struggles, keeping your face mere inches from his. “The people on this train will not hesitate to shoot you in the face or stab you in the gut”

“[Y/N]” he warns, fighting against you.

“Are you really gonna risk your daughter for your morals, Moreno? You can either grow a pair or stay out of my way.”

“They were normal people once, you said that. Maybe we can save them…” he pleads beneath you, no longer struggling against your vice like grip.

“I. do not. care. Now, have the sedatives worn off enough for us to try to figure out where Missy is?” you ask as you sit up on his hips, releasing your grip. He nods without a word, his eyes following your hand as you check the fake scar and the edges of the mask. “Last time I was on the train the prison car was in the middle but it’s moved every few months.” You consider aloud as you climb off Marcus’ lap. “Unfortunately there won’t be a map of the layout… If we ask where the prison car is we’ll immediately be caught, locked up and brain washed. I don’t need that again.”

“But if we take too long, it could be too late” he points out.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t want to take our time. We should…” a knock on the sliding wooden door interrupts you and you glance at Marcus on the bed with worry. “What do you want?” you snap, sliding the door open with force, the emotional mask you wear sliding back into place, your lip curling in anger.

“Your father wishes for you and your friend to join him for dinner” the man at the door says. His face is devoid of emotion, not even a glimmer showing in his grey eyes. He doesn’t even look around the space in front of him, just stares as if there’s a wall right in front of him.

“I’d rather not” you reply, making to slide the door shut. He grips your wrist with bruising force, his silver eyes finally focusing on yours.

“It wasn’t optional, Sekhmet”

“Fine” you tell him, ripping your arm from his grip and sneering at his use of your dead name. You’re not that person anymore. Haven’t been for years. “How long?”

“An hour” you nod and watch as his eyes glass over again, hating that you probably looked the same once. No soul behind your eyes.

You close the door when he finally walks away and press your back to the deep coloured wood. Marcus is silent as he stands from the dusty plush surface of the bed and you can feel his eyes on you as you keep yours cast to the floor.

“We don’t have time for dinner, [Y/N]” Marcus says as he moves less than a metre from you.

“We don’t know where Missy is on this train and if he’s pretending to be an actual parent then he’s not hurting her. We have time, just not much.” You sigh, looking past him to the window. The particle filled beams of light flicker in and out, then vanish. The light that replaces them is an eerie mix of green and blue with violent flashes of purple. The sounds of clashing stones cracks through the air to match the violet blooms. “We’re not on earth anymore”

Marcus’s brown eyes glance between you and the window, confusion furrowing his brows. There isn’t a sound to indicate that the train has breached the fabric of reality, no sign, just one second you’re on earth and the next you’re on some unknown planet you can’t even breathe on. Marcus pulls open the ashy curtains, freezing at the sight sitting just outside the train.

Colours swirl around a circle of nothing and around you asteroids glowing with vibrant lines of violet smash into each other making the bursts of purple you’d seen through the cracks in the curtain. The ground around the train’s tracks is cracked, reduced to rubble with magma oozing out from the lines.

“What happened here?” Marcus asks in quiet horror as the train passes what looks to be the remnants of an ancient temple, the statues barely recognizable and the stone walls crumbling. “Was it the- the black hole?”

“Mmm, no. Apparently a planet would orbit a black hole just like they would a sun. So I’ve heard anyway” you tell him, watching the scene outside with awe. “Was probably a war or over population… they probably just over used the planet.” You shrug, glancing away from the aftermath of an apocalypse. “This isn’t the time to mourn their loss, Marcus.” you whisper gently as you place your hand on his shoulder, your fingers sliding subtly under the sleeve of his vest. You love how warm he is, you’d never tell him though. You doubt it would be accepted.

“You’re right” he sighs, looking at you, an unreadable look in his warm chocolate eyes. “We should go to dinner… with your evil father”

“Just, remember you’re meant to be a villain doppelganger of Marcus Moreno. You can act how you usually do but like you really hate it and yourself.”

“Right” he replies, looking at you with concern.

“You can either make up a name or use your normal one and ‘refuse’ to tell your real name.” you tell him as you check the fake scar once more, comforting yourself with the warmth of his cheek. Any excuse to keep touching him right? “Depends on your improv skills”

“I have a question…” he says, watching as you remove the blades from your back, continuing when you don’t say anything. “They keep calling you Sekhmet…”

“Your question?” you pause, the blades still in your hand and your chest feeling tight.

“Do you want me to just pretend I knew or that I’m not hearing it… You seem really tense when you hear it…”

“Just don’t use it, ok?” you ask him as you drop your swords onto the bed and another cloud of dust flies into the air making you sneeze and growl. “Fucking… ugh let’s just go.”

“You know where the car is?” he asks, following you as you stomp from the room.

“Uh, yeah. The only car he moves is the prison car. Maybe we’ll be lucky and the prison car will be between us and that arsehole hmmm?” you muse. “Hey you!” you call out when you finally spot one of the poor brainwashed bastards in the isle. “Get someone to clean my room” you’re not sure if you’ll find Missy tonight, might as well have a clean place to sleep right?

“Of course, Sekhmet. Your father has asked that we do as you ask” the woman smiles, her eyes just as empty as the man’s from earlier. Even her hair is dull and lifeless, hanging from a ponytail.

You grab Marcus’ arm as he reaches out, stopping him from asking the brainwashed woman where his daughter is. She steps past you both, Marcus barely registering as an obstacle in her mind as she makes her way through the corridor.

“She’s not gonna tell you shit, Marcus.” You growl “pay attention!” you smack the side of his head “the second our cover is blown we have to get off this train or kill everyone trying to take it over. Asking questions is cover blowing, got it? We need to find the prison car ourselves”

“I just want my little girl back.”

“I know… but you need to listen to me, Marcus.” You say, continuing down the corridor. “The next car should be the private dining room. I’m gonna try to see into the next two cars. If there is only two cars ahead then the prison car is somewhere along the other end of the train” you whisper.

A shiver runs down your spine as you reach the dining car door, your body freezing with your hand raised to the door. You keep getting waves of horror and chills of fear. Your hands shaking and heart beating way too fast. You don’t want to show weakness. Need not to show weakness. You know Marcus would never take advantage of you, never try to hurt you, he’s too good. But your father will and you can’t let him. This place really did fuck you up.

Glancing at Marcus you force yourself to knock, swallowing the fear in your chest.

Another woman, lighter skinned this time, slides open the door an eerily serene smile on her lips as she leads you both to the table. Your father isn’t in the room yet so you breathe a little easier as you take a seat at the mahogany table. You fix your eyes on the door leading to the front of the train, hoping to get a glimpse of the next car when your father comes through. If the next car is his room then the prison car isn’t up this end and you’ll have to make your way to the other.

The woman places a glass of amber liquid in front of you as the door opens revealing your father. You peek at the space behind him, seeing his bedroom and further through the controls for the train. You were really hoping the prison car was up this end.

“Sekhmet! So good of you and your friend to join me for dinner” your father says grinning as he sits at the head of the table.

“Didn’t exactly feel like a choice” you mumble, rolling your eyes and sipping at the drink in front of you.

“Now, now, daughter. You haven’t seen me in five years and I haven’t seen you in much longer.” He points out, smiling at the brainwashed woman as she places plates of food in front of each of you. “Is it too much to ask that I get to spend some time with my little girl?”

“Oooh! It’s almost like you care!” you say, your lips curving into a mix between a sarcastic smile and a sneer.

“You’ll show me respect, Sekhmet. You know what happened last time you got too mouthy” your breath hitches and you shy away, looking down to Marcus’ hand when it moves onto your thigh. He’s glaring at your father, the fake scar making him look even more threatening. “What’s your name boy?” your father asks Marcus once he’s satisfied that he’s curbed your attitude.

“I don’t have one. You can call me Marcus, I tried to steal his life, may as well take his name on the way out” the man beside you says to your father, a sinister smirk on his lips. You’d be lying if you said ‘bad’ didn’t look good on him. He seems to be an ok actor at least.

“Hmmm… and what reason have you two decided to leave that world?”

“Given that we were in three different fights with like fifteen different people just today. I figured it was time for a change in scenery” you tell him, keeping your eyes on the plate of food in front of you. “He was unconscious so I got our shit together and got out.” You say as you jab your fork into a piece of the food, popping it into your mouth. “One of my contacts said that your train had been spotted circling the city”

“Interesting” your father says, his eyes shifting between you and Marcus as he places pieces of food in his mouth. “What did you think of the view?” he asks, nodding toward the window you can all see. Outside pieces of glowing debris float and collide outside the moving train’s window.

“Didn’t think much of it.” You admitted, you thought it was morbidly beautiful but you’ve seen so many places. It’s just one more to add to list.

“Did you recognise it? We passed a temple a while ago.” You pause, confusion marking your features as you glance between the monster you call your father and the ruined world outside.

“Why would I?” you shake your head, watching out the window to see if maybe you do.

“This place was one of your favourites when you were a kid. They were the first lot to make that lion head statue for you.” he tells you, waving over the brainwashed woman for more to drink. You stare out the window dumbfounded. How? “They worshipped you like a god.” He muses.

“What happened to them?” Marcus asks, looking out the window as a particularly large chunk of asteroid collides into the shielding around the train.

“No idea. I suspect they tore their world apart after their ‘god’ hadn’t returned in a long time. Not the first time I’ve seen religious turmoil destroy a planet.” He replies callously, sipping at what you assume is konjac, his favourite.

A heavy silence fills the room as you stare into space. You don’t know what you feel. Horror? Sadness? Fear? Guilt? Rage? Everything? You are definitely holding yourself still though, the urge to end your father at the forefront of all thoughts and feelings. You know you can’t, not yet anyway. If you do all his minions will go berserk. You’d prefer to do it on a planet with a breathable atmosphere. So you can jump if need be.

You can feel your father studying you, hear his fingers topping on the wooden table. He’s probably looking for weakness, for a moment to call in the troops and lock you and Marcus away. It would definitely fast track finding the girl but fuck any plans for escape.

“I need to prep the next dimensional phase. You know where your room is.” Your father says dismissively as he gets up, gesturing for his little slave to lead you and Marcus from the room. You hadn’t even noticed the weapons strapped to the small of her back till now. This place is fogging your mind and you fucking hate it.

~~~~~

You watch Marcus with interest, fighting what you know is a bad decision. You didn’t say a word the whole way back to your old room, how could you? The place you loved most is gone, the one man you’ve started feeling things for is your enemy and is in the most dangerous place you could think of and you’re pretty sure your father has already started his mind game, manipulative bullshit. You need a distraction but you know you shouldn’t try that. You want to lash out.

You keep your back pressed against the door and breathe slowly. You can feel Marcus’ eyes on you but you keep yours closed. You’re pretty sure if you open your eyes right now you’ll jump his bones.

“So… are you immortal?” Marcus asks. You finally look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“What no?” you smile, amused by his question, breathing as the urge fades. You step over to the bed, examining the fresh green silk sheets and the smell of fresh linen in the air.

“Well your father just implied that the goddess from Egyptian mythology was you…” he says as he props himself by your wardrobe with his arms crossed.

“I was” you admit. “But although I do age slower, it wasn’t cause of that.”

“How then?”

“Know how I mentioned that we could be gone for centuries for earth?” you start, posing yourself on the now dust free bed, continuing when he nods. “Well it goes the other way too. We could end up surrounded by dinosaurs next phase jump. Has something to do with quantum entanglement or something. Or maybe how if you put a mirror light years away then looked through it, it theoretically would show the earth millions of years ago.” You propose as you lay on your back, your knees in the air and spread so you can see Marcus between your thighs. It’s a pretty good view. “It’s sciency stuff.”

“Does that mean there could be two versions of the train at one time?” he frowns, looking to the ground.

“Mmm probably… though they’d have to keep a certain distance or risk blowing up…” you pause, seeing worry on his features once again. “If you’re thinking that there’s a chance that this train from a different time point has her that isn’t possible.”

“How do you know that?”

“The space he’d have to keep between the trains is like… two states wide. Any closer and reality tries to correct them, forcing them together like hyper magnets” you tell him, rubbing your temples to remember the things your father had taught you before he stole your free will and mind. “The resulting destruction from the explosion would be devastating throughout time.”

You sigh as you look out the window to the vibrant colours of space, seeing the ruins of a once beautiful planet in a different light. You’d shown them a picture of a lion from earth during a stop there and for some reason they made statues, altars and places of worship in your name. Sure you’d done a few nice things but was that really worthy of worship? Their goddess of healing. You became something else to the people of Egypt. A goddess to be feared. You earned the title they gave you many time over since.

“This is all your fault” you hear Marcus say and you glare at him raising from your spot on the bed.

“I’m sorry?” you challenge, daring him to say that again.

“This. Is. All. Your. Fault.” He sneers, meeting you toe to toe with anger in his eyes. “If you weren’t doing awful things, my daughter wouldn’t have been grabbed!” you leap onto your feet and press your hand to his chest and force him to the wall, pinning him with your body and getting right in his face.

“Need I remind you, that I am trying to help you! You would never have had a chance without me!” you shout, baring your sharp teeth. “I’m on a train that I never wanted to see again. My own father tortured me on this fucking train!” you take a deep breath to calm yourself, keeping him pinned but lowering your voice as he looks down ashamed of his outburst. “I wasn’t even doing anything. I had no plans. I think the most ‘evil’ thing I had going on was a few stolen paintings in my warehouse and renting out space to a known drug dealer….” You sigh, loosening your force but not moving away. “If I did have something planned, I would have been a lot more upset about the children showing up instead of you…” you admit. You know he wouldn’t care about a revelation like that, you know you’re a monster in his eyes. How could you not be? You don’t exactly have much of a moral compass.

You move to step away and give him space but it seems he has other plans. He grabs your arm, pulling you back toward him and pressing his lips to yours like you had done earlier when you made the deal with him. He wraps an arm around your waist and threads his other hand’s fingers in your hair, kissing you with bruising passion. You move your hands up his body as you kiss him back with fierce aggression. Gently you curve one hand on his jaw and the other around his throat, squeezing a little as you nibble on his bottom lip.

You gaze into his lust filled eyes as he pulls away for air, panting like he’s starved of it. You could spend eternity in this moment, even in the worst place in all of reality, you’d stay. His dishevelled hair, soft lips, the warmth of his skin and the gentle tug of his fingers in your hair. If you could have Marcus Moreno for eternity, you would.

~~~~~~~

“How long does it take?” you hear Marcus ask as you glare at the clothes you used to wear, glancing to see him staring out the window to the ashy desert that now surrounds the travelling train. He’s lying naked on the bed, propped against the wall with his arms behind his head, just a silk sheet covering him from you.

“Uuh, depends.” You reply, grabbing the only outfit you’d ever liked from that point in your life and shoving it into your bag.

“On what?”

“Destination mostly. Whether or not there’s a version of the train already there. But apparently there’s a few other reasons that I didn’t get to learn…” you tell him as you pull a shirt on.

“Do you know how to… direct the train back to earth in our time?”

“Somewhat… after a few attempts sure. But I’m not sure we’ll get a few attempts…” you watch as a sand storm forms in the distance, the grey ashes swirling into the air promising violence.

“Why?”

“Just… I need you to trust me and if I say jump, you’ll grab your daughter and jump. Okay?” you can see hesitation in his eyes but he nods. Gently you lift his hand and press your lips to his palm, silently thanking him for not arguing. Getting up with a sigh you grab his clothes, vest and swords and put them next to him. “Get dressed, we’ll start making our way down the train soon. They’re gonna be suspicious…” you huff as you pull on your harness, your gun already in the holster, and pull on your jacket to conceal it.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Well… half of two plans…” you shrug. “We can sneak along the outside and try to figure out where the car is from the windows. Not my favourite. Or! We can move along the inside saying we’re looking for a drink then wing it if the prison car is past the kitchen…” you smile, knowing both plans are fucking awful.

“So we’re just gonna wing it then?” Marcus asks, an unimpressed look on his face as he fastens his vest and puts the Katanas in their sheaths on his back.

“Pretty much. We need to take our things and us being out of the room is suspicious as is… I don’t see this ending in anything but a fight. We just need the fight to be after we find your daughter.” You tell him as you pull on the harness with your two khopesh blades attached. “If we die tonight, it’s your fault.” You grin before stepping over to the door and sliding it open to peek along the hallway.

“We’re not gonna die”

“mmmhmmm” you roll your eyes, gesturing for him to grab the bags and follow. You can’t help your pessimism, it was hard enough getting off this damn train the first time.

You slide open the door to the next car silently, gesturing for Marcus to be quiet. On the right of the hallway is a familiar door leading to a room filled with bunk beds. One of four cars where your bastard father keeps his slaves. On the left a door with a window leading to the ash desert outside, the wind and sand swirling violently.

You creep through the car, then the next, hoping that the neither door to the bunks will open to reveal you two dressed for war sneaking through. Marcus remains quiet behind you, seeming to trust that you know what you’re doing.

The next car is the mess hall and you pause as you peek in. there’s a few of the brainwashed sitting at the long tables, people of different races all staring blankly at the walls as they slowly move the food into their moves. You’d never under estimate them though. They may be slow when doing menial tasks but they’re fast as lightning when it comes to drawing a gun on you. They’re almost as fast as you when it comes to melee too. It’s the main reason you want the fight to be later. So you can jump from the train and avoid them, whether your father is still in control or not.

“How are we getting through?” Marcus whispers in your ear, his body pretty much squished to yours to see the room. His body curving around yours and his hand holding your hip for stability.

“I don’t know… they may be practically zombies right now but... they still know when something is off in their peripheries.” You whisper, flinching slightly when one of them rises, moving into the next car. You assume it’s the kitchen, going by the strong food smell that floats through when the carriage door slides open. “Keep the bags low and as close to the tables as possible. Act normal.”

You rise from your position, standing tall as you slide the door open. A couple of the brainwashed stand at the sight of you, glaring at the intrusion. Their eyes shine a little brighter at the trespass, almost like they have actual thoughts. You know they don’t.

“What reason are you here, Sekhmet?” one that you recognise asks as he glares between you and the man behind you. Probably eyeing the blades on both your backs.

“Father is getting the train ready to take us to our destination, I’m just getting a drink before. You know how that world is, Cole” you tell him, putting your arms up passively. “Could be days before we find water…”

“Sounds like a you problem”

“And when exactly did my father give you free will to make an opinion?” the other mindless look at Cole, ready to jump him. Clearly they’ve been made stricter since you left, they weren’t so ready to jump you when you were showing signs of free will. Cole stutters, his eyes wide as one of the others grabs him. You can’t seem to help the sadistic grin that spread on your lips as he’s dragged past you toward front of the train. You know he’s probably not free, his brainwashing was probably only just wearing off. Everyone would know if he was truly free.

“What was that?” Marcus hisses as you step into the next car.

“A distraction” you tell him, watching the two men doing dishes with their backs to you as you pass through the kitchen.

“If he was free he could have helped us”

“Even if he was totally free he wouldn’t have wanted to. He’d have attacked us instead.”

“How do you know?” he argues, not taking no for an answer as he follows you into the next car. Another garrison car. The prison has to be soon, you’re sure you’re running out of train cars.

“I just do” you snap, freezing as a door slides open at the noise. The woman eyes you both from the door way, silently waiting. “Father said we could get some water from storage” you tell her, praying your lie will sell but moving your hand to the blade on your thigh anyway. You don’t know what allowances he’s made for you. Or if he actually made any at all. Without a word she moves back into the room filled with bunk beds and shuts the door and you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Releasing your hold on the bone grip of your blade you glance back at Marcus, trying to say ‘shut the fuck up’ but with your face.

“Let’s keep going” you whisper.

It’s almost peaceful, the sound of the train moving and the gentle snores from the sleeping people in the carriages. It’s a shame that it’s also horrible.

The next train car is another garrison and you move through it swiftly, keeping your ears focused on sounds within the room but taking note of the door to the outside. There’s three more cars, just three and you’re pretty sure none of them have exits. Missy must be in one.

You slide open the next door and you’re greeted with an almost empty sitting room. A plush blue carpet and ugly green couches and a holographic screen floating in the middle. Standing to attention by the opposite door is a buff woman, glaring at you as you take in the ugly ass room. You don’t remember it being so damn ugly.

“We need to get into storage. My father said I could take some water and I was told it’s in there.” You tell the strong woman, gesturing toward door behind her.

“You’re not allowed past.”

“My father said I could” you insist.

“You’re not allowed past” you glance between the woman and Marcus incredulously. ‘This bitch’ you glare, trying to decide what to do. You know Marcus will hate it but…

“Fuck it” you sigh, ripping your blade from its sheath, slicing it toward the woman’s throat. A strong arm blocks against your assault and a fist collides with your nose with a crunch. “Shit” you hiss, stumbling back as you clutch at your bleeding face.

“[Y/N]!” Marcus shouts as the woman shoves him aside to get to you. You’re not sure if his shout was worried or pissed as the woman shoves you violently, launching you back into a glass cabernet. Throwing punches into your gut and smashing her fist into the back of the cupboard, barely missing your head. You grimace at the crunch, that would have been your face again if you hadn’t dodged her fierce fist.

A small trail of blood trickles from your nose, filling your mouth with the familiar metallic tang and you spit it out as you move away from the woman. You flip you blade as the woman struggles, her fist stuck in the cracked remains. She growls at the hole keeping her hand in place then looks at you with rage in her eyes. A rare sign of emotions from the brainwashed zombies.

With bared teeth she rips her hand from the wood, tearing the flesh of her wrist and hand as the splintered wood fights the force. She doesn’t scream or cry out as her blood pours down her fingers, she just sneers, glancing at something over your left shoulder to the door she was guarding.

Marcus steps up to your right, his fists raised ready to fight the buff bitch.

“Why do you carry around swords, if you’re not willing to use them on people!” you hiss, keeping your eyes on your prey.

“They’re for monsters!” he yells, dodging as the guard makes the first move, trying to land punches on both of you. Even with her bloodied hand she flails, growling as she shoves past you. You couldn’t see it coming, couldn’t know that she had a gun sitting in a holster by the door. She rips the gun from its holster stuck to the side of the little table by her guard post, aiming it at Marcus.

You hear the bullet fire and feel your body move, the bullet ripping into your side as you shove Marcus out of the way. “Fucking bitch!” you scream and you throw your knife with deadly precision as she aims her gun again, the blade imbedding itself into her skull. She stumbles, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open, the gun falling loose in her hand. With one hand clasped to your side you step up the woman, you don’t know how she’s still standing with a blade lodged in her brain. You wrap your fingers around the hilt of your blade and try to pull it from the woman’s head, frowning when she moves with it, gurgling on the verge of death. With a sickening sound the blade pulls free,

Marcus is staring in horror as you turn to him, the woman finally falling to the ground. You can feel the blood oozing from your side and you wince as you move your hand to see. You wipe your blade off on your thigh and gesture for Marcus to move.

“Let’s get this over with Marcus” you breathe, moving to the next door despite your body’s protest. “Leave the bags here, we won’t be able to get out from the end. It’ll be sealed tight.”

Grunting you pull open the next door, ignoring the shelves of stuff and passing around the edge of the room. The next car has to be the prison car. On your way around the sides of the train car to reach the other door a label catches your eyes and you let Marcus pass as you pause to look at the bucket like container filled with weird little capsule like things. The label says they’re filled with water but they look like fucking tide pods and you shiver at the memory of that internet sensation. You grab the handle and take it. You’d be damned if you end up stuck out there without water.

“[Y/N]! The door is locked tight” Marcus calls out as you round the corner.

“Yeah it’s got a DNA lock” you cough, moving him to get to the receptacle. Grimacing, you place your blood coated hand upon the lock. A small buzz sounds from the lock as it clicks open. Moaning in pain you press your hand back to the hole in your side, hissing at the sheer pain. It will heal, it always does. Leaning against the wall you let Marcus open the door and go in, breathing slowly as the train jostles you.

“And here I hoped you might have actually been coming around.”

You freeze, your wide eyes looking to Marcus in the next car. His eyes meet yours as he holds his daughter, finally reunited. You breathe slowly, wincing in pain as you turn toward your father’s voice. Your eyes lock on the barrel of a gun. Shit

A/N: part three is here! Been try to make things a little less specific like features of Y/N and the meal. Curious to know what people pictured as their (plate of food) hopefully no one here is colour blind cause idk how to make this for colour blind people, sorry ⬇️. like and reblog to share the love!

@love93sstuff @superawesomegeek @whore-of-many-hot-men @sara-alonso @farfromjustordinary @i-d-k-any-more

#marcus moreno x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno #we can be heroes

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zafirosreverie · 4 years

Note

Hey can I have a request with Agatha x reader where reader is a vampire and drinks off of Agatha. But one day reader was having a really bad day and accidentally drinks to much of her blood so reader feels terrible and takes care of Agatha cause she’s really weak please. I freakin love your work❤️❤️❤️❤️

A vampiress and a witch being a lesbian power couple?! SIGN ME UP!

Once again, i got carried away (listen, you can't mix vampires, witches and lesbians and then expect me to hold myself) so the actual request is going to be on the next part (i hope).

Also, i changed Agatha's trial a little.

Anyway, i hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: a little dark?

Little bird(Agatha x Vampire!reader) part 1

You smirked when you heard the steps getting closer to the tree you were hiding in. They were human steps. More than one human, by the sound of it.

“Excellent, I'm sick of animal’s blood” you thought.

You were a child of the night. The creature parents warned their children about. A vampire. One of the youngest, you might add, but also one of the strongest. Your power was what made your own kin afraid of you. But you didn’t care. It’s not as if you needed them anyway.

“What’s happening?” you heard a voice and your smirk widened. You recognised that tone. Fear. One of the people was really, really scared.

“Oh, poor little thing” You thought and decided to get closer, still hidden by the darkness.

“Agatha Harkness, are you a witch?” another voice said and you got there just in time to see a young woman tied, many women around her.

You knew this. It was a trial. A witches trial. Hmmm, this dinner just got interesting. What did the little witch have done to make her own people condemn her? Taking a closer look, you noticed how cute she was. She seemed nice and her cute pink cheeks made an amazing contrast with the ice in her eyes.

“She must have been the one who’s fear I felt” you thought.

You saw how the little witch begged for her life. You almost felt bad for her.

“Maybe I will drink her blood the last” you thought. But then, you blinked when she called the eldest witch “mother”, and you frowned.

Vampires were known for not caring for anyone but themselves, with a few exceptions to the closer relatives, but witches? You always thought witches were better than that. At least that’s what they claimed themselves.

“I can be good” The little witch said and something in her voice made your heart start to crumble. Why? Why was this witch doing that to you? You didn’t know her, you shouldn’t care for her, you just wanted her blood, and for the few parts you actually paid attention to, she was messing with dark magic…

...Okay, THAT you could understand. Dark magic wasn’t that bad, it was more the stigma than anything.

“No, you can’t” The older witch said and you watched as the rest of the witches attacked the poor girl.

Her screams were almost too much for you and it was making you angrier. Why were you feeling like that?! You always enjoyed other’s pain! (well...not really, you just didn’t care) So why was this different? Why would you care if she reverted the tables and was stealing the other witches’ magic? why would you- Wait what?!

You blinked and saw how the magic turned purple, taking all the magic and life form the witches attacking her. Well, now that was something special. The older witch stared in disbelief as the younger one killed the rest. You couldn’t help but feel proud of the little witch.

“Teach them how to treat a lady, girl” you thought.

But your amusement didn’t last long. You saw how the older witch prepared herself to attack her own daughter. And most importantly, you saw that the little witch didn’t just take the magic and life from the others, the corpses were totally empty, which meant no blood for you.

“Hell no, princess, I won't drink more bear’s blood tonight” you thought and decided it was a good moment to make an entrance.

You were sure the little bird (Agatha, your mind whispered, remembering the name she was called by when the trial started) was able to stop her mother, but you already lost the blood of the others, you wouldn’t lose this one.

The tiredness in Agatha’s face wasn’t the reason you knocked out the older witch. Of course not.

Agatha blinked when her mother fell to the floor. What the hell happened? One moment she was about to kill her and the next she was just there, unconscious.

“Well, well” a voice said but the witch couldn’t see any one, just the darkness of the night.

“What do we have here?” you said and smiled at the way the little witch turned around, trying to find you. She was so cute.

“W-who are you?” Agatha asked and tried to stay calmed. She just got rid of a whole coven, she will take whoever it was.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, little Agatha?” you said and smirked when she gasped.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, her voice sounded a little scared “Show yourself!” she demanded and you laughed, making the witch shudder.

“As you wish little bird” you said and stepped out of the darkness, appearing right behind her.

Agatha jumped when she felt a hand on her back. Quickly turning around, she lifted her hands, ready to fight whoever it was. You found her defensive stance a little too cute.

“Who are you?” she asked again

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you” you said and smiled, allowing her to look at your teeth. The reaction was immediate.

Agatha stepped back and gasped. Your fangs were too long to be normal, and now that she looked closely, your e/c eyes had a string red in them.

“You’re-”

“A vampire” you finished for her and smirked at the look in her beautiful face “And you’re a witch” you said, walking to her and enjoying how she trembled under your gaze “a witch that played with dark magic”

“I didn’t break any rules” she said, still trying to appear calmed and strong, but you were making her really nervous. She knew vampires were powerful, much more so than witches. Whatever spell she might know, wouldn’t hurt you. She was defenseless.

“They just bend to your power” you finished again, having heard what she said to the witches. Agatha nodded. “Which just makes you more interesting, birdie” you said.

It was true. You knew dark magic was powerful and hard to control. It took a strong being to even begin to learn it, so the fact that this young girl claimed to be chosen by the magic itself, was beyond amazing.

Agatha wished she had learned to disappear. Your eyes were making her nervous and the closer you got, the smaller she felt. Lord, how much she hated feeling small.

“Don’t be afraid, darling. I’m not going to hurt you” you assured her. You had used that line on many of your victims, but for the first time, you actually meant it.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” she asked and arched an eyebrow. You giggled.

“You certainly shouldn’t” To your surprise, the witch smiled. It was small, but it made your heart jump.

A groan interrupted you and you saw the older witch standing. She was too weak, but her gaze was enough to make Agatha nervous. Her mother always had that effect on her. That gaze haunted her dreams, always making sure she understood how disappointed she was in her.

You felt Agatha taking a step back and you sighed, frowning at the old witch. Why did mothers always have to make their children feel less than a miracle just to feel better with themselves? If they knew how fortunate they were to be able to watch their children grow u- No, you didn’t want to think about it.

“Agatha” the witch said and the younger one tensed. No, you weren’t having it.

You stood in front of the younger witch, covering her from the gaze of the older one. That got you reactions from both. They were both surprised, but Agatha also felt a little hope, while the other woman felt fear.

“You won’t talk to her like that, am i clear?” you said, walking to her. She tried to step back but you took her by the neck before she could.

“Let me go, child of the night” she demanded and you laughed. It was a cruel laugh.

“Or what?” you asked.

Agatha was frozen. She couldn’t do anything but watch as you threatened her mother. Nobody has ever stood for her, not her cousins, not her so called friends, no one. And suddenly a freakin vampiress was defending her? Why?!

“Agatha!” the older woman hissed, making her daughter jump. You laughed again.

“Really? You’re expecting to be saved by the woman you tried to murder less five minutes ago? How pathetic” you mocked and tightened your hold on her neck.

“Aga- tha”

Agatha just stared at her, not moving. You noticed it and turned your head to her, without letting go of the witch.

“Listen, little bird” you said.

Agatha blinked and looked at you, she noticed your voice was smooth and calm, pretty different from the cold one you used with her mother. It made her blush.

“I came here to eat. I haven’t had anything better than bear’s blood in months, and you dried them completely” you said, pointing at the corpses around you.

Agatha stared at them and gulped before she looked back at you. Her mother made signals with her hands, trying to make her help her. Agatha smirked in her head when she realised you were blocking her mother’s magic.

“Good, that’s how it feels, mother” she thought.

“And she tried to murder you just for being more powerful” you said.

“She broke the rules” the other woman said and you growled.

“But that’s not true ” you answered “Is it, Evanora?” you asked and smiled at the horror in the witch’s face.

Surely, she thought you read her mind, which, for the record, wasn’t true. Vampires can’t read minds as many people like to think. At least not the young ones like you. But for now, it was useful for you that she thought you could. Truth is, you heard some witch say it. But she didn’t have to know.

“This has absolutely nothing to do with the rules, does it? This is you, afraid that your daughter is more powerful than you, afraid that you cannot control her anymore” you accused.

You really didn’t know if it was true. You didn’t know these “rules” they were talking about, but you didn’t care. You were too familiar with the situation: a parent sensing their child becoming more powerful, trying to control them and, when they couldn’t, destroying them. It was sickening.

You might be a creature of the night, but you were once a mother, and you just couldn’t understand how someone would murder their child instead of being proud of them being better. And the look on Evanora’s face told you everything you had to know. You hit the nail.

Agatha gasped when she heard you. Sure, deep inside she always knew her mother was afraid of her power, but hearing it out loud hurted.

“You’re gross” you growled, then turned to Agatha again “Look, hot stuff” lord, her little blush was so adorable “I’m not leaving without my dinner. So, it’s your blood or hers” you said.

You hated doing that to the poor and cute little witch, but you were starving and you knew Evanora wouldn’t even try to stop you from eating her daughter. It was gross how she hoped Agatha would sacrifice herself when she just tried to murder her.

Agatha looked between you and her mother. Evanora looked at her with a gaze that clearly said “you’re not worthy, let her eat you and save me. I deserve it, you don’t”. The thought broke her heart but also made rage bloom on her chest.

“Well, little bird? Who 's going to be?” you asked. She was cute, but you were losing your patience.

Agatha looked at her mother for the last time and closed her eyes before she nodded. You smirked when Evanora gasped.

“AGATHA! NO!” the older woman screamed and you saw tears rolling down Agatha’s cheek. You felt bad for her, but it didn’t stop you from sinking your fangs into Evanora's neck, sucking her blood and taking her life with it.

The witch screamed, kicked, and tried desperately to use her magic on you, but after a few minutes, everything fell silent.

You dropped her body to the ground, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your dress. You moaned in pleasure at the taste of blood on your tongue. Animal blood helped, but it didn't compare to human blood, magical or not.

Agatha’s eye widened when she saw her mother’s body falling to the floor. She was gone. She really didn’t know how to feel. Guilty because she let you kill her to save herself, sad because she was gone and even after all that happened, she still had some love for her.

But what she felt the most, was relieved. Relieved that she was finally free. That she would never have to feel her disappointed gaze over her, that she would never have to hear her hurting words. That nobody would ever make her feel unworthy again.

You turned to see the witch falling to her knees. How could anyone hurt someone like her? Just for power. You truly didn’t understand. You took Evanora’s pendant and walked to her. You carefully kneeled in front of the girl and handed it to her.

Agatha jumped a little when she saw your hand right in front of her eyes. Her mother’s pendant was resting in your palm. She hesitantly took it, not looking up to you. She didn’t know if she could trust you. You said she shouldn’t, but you defended her. And also killed her mother. What if you were lying and would eat her too? She wasn’t even sure it would be that bad. After all, she actually didn’t have anywhere to go. Not anymore.

You saw how confused and conflicted she was and it broke your heart. This woman was broken. Broken by the people that should have protected her, left alone in the world. And yet, she was still trying to hold together as many pieces as she could. It truly amazed you.

You gently wiped her tears, making her jump again, but she didn’t move away from your touch. You caressed her cheek and saw how her little blush appeared again. It was adorable. She was adorable.

“Come on” you whispered and stood up, pulling her up with you. When she got to her feet, she looked around again, watching the corpses for a moment.

“I don’t have anywhere to go” she finally said softly, almost crying again.

You took her hand, already cursing yourself for such a risking decision, but you knew you would hate yourself more if you didn’t. Agatha looked at you, confused and you gave her a reassuring smile.

“Now you do”

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agnes imagine #agnes x reader #kathryn hahn #marvel #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #wandavision imagine #little bird

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amythedvdhoarder · 4 years

Text

Storm in a Teacup

Pairing: Bucky x Divorced Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warnings: Fluff, a monster of an ex-mother-in-law

Summary: You’re on your first date after your divorce. Who should you run into? Your ex-mother-in-law.

A/N: This comes from a request sent in by a lovely nonnie, who wanted a fic based around a divorced reader who runs into her ex-mother-in-law whilst on a date with Bucky. Before that point, Bucky didn’t know about her divorce. Embarrassment ensues and Bucky has to make up his mind about what to do next. I hope I have done your idea justice. Sorry it took me so long.

Thank you to the wonderful @drabblewithfrannybarnes for beta reading for me. Ily hun 😘

It had taken a long time for you to get to this position, to feel comfortable enough to be dating again. But you had been separated from your now ex-husband for two and a half years, your divorce finalised 6 months ago. It was time to try and have some semblance of a life. You felt guilty about not revealing your divorce to Bucky, but when you moved to New York you really wanted a fresh start, so you didn’t tell anyone about your past. Of course, if there came a time when Bucky needed to know then you would tell him, but this was just a coffee.

Bucky and you had begun talking a few months ago. It started when he was dropping off mission reports with small smiles, progressing to hello’s and then to you making him coffee whenever he stopped by during your lunch break, which he always seemed to arrive in time for. He had realised quickly that you weren’t a New York native, so traded your museum recommendations for tv, film and music recommendations. Each time you met you discussed your latest weekend museum trip and he told you his thoughts on the latest thing he had watched or listened to.

It was clear that you two had a connection. Your co-workers had even commented on how well you and the notoriously silent super-soldier seemed to get along. They were surprised that you hadn’t been on a date already. But you had reservations; perhaps it was too soon. Plus, there was no way Bucky would be interested in you. He was just polite and maybe enjoyed having someone who wasn’t a superhero to talk to. It was a shock when he asked you out for coffee the next time you saw him. You were even more shocked that you had agreed without any hesitation.

You were nervous. In fact, nervous was an understatement. Sick to your stomach was a more accurate description. It wasn’t the fact that it was a date with Bucky Barnes, it was the fact it was a date. Your first, first date in nearly 10 years.

Bucky was leaning against a lamppost, outside your apartment waiting for you. When you saw him you felt yourself instantly relax. He gave you his signature lopsided grin that you had come to crave and ambled over to you.

“You look great,” he said as he stood back and admired you.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself for an old man,” you teased. That was the understatement of the century. He looked like a model in his dark wash jeans, dark blue henley layered over a black t-shirt and a leather jacket in his hand.

He shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Theoretically we’re about the same age you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmmm well I don’t know about that, but we better get going otherwise we’ll be out past your bedtime.”

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Bucky winked.

“Maybe elders that don’t act like teenage boys, but you and Sam are like high-school kids.”

Bucky looked confused for a second and then remembered that you had caught him and Sam hiding Steve’s shield under your desk the other week.

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. “Alright, you win.”

The coffee shop was only a couple of streets away, on a corner opposite one of your favourite parks. Bucky and you ordered together and found a table near the window.

Both of you were chatting away about an art gallery you had visited the day before when you were suddenly interrupted.

“You,” that was a voice you would recognise anywhere, a voice which still haunted you. One of constant criticism, one that drove a wedge between you and the person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with.

“Hello Eliza,” you said through a forced smile.

Bucky stood and politely offered his hand to Eliza, but she ignored it leaving Bucky to sit down awkwardly.

“What brings you to New York?” you asked curtly.

“Well Leon and I are visiting my sister,” you balked, glancing quickly around the room, checking for any sign of him.

“He’s not here so you can stop looking. My son had a lucky escape by all accounts,” she sent a sneering look towards Bucky and then back to you. “Barely divorced and already moving on. I always suspected you were a whore; this just confirms it.”

Tears sprang to your eyes; she was publicly humiliating you. Calling you out for being a whore, when you had done nothing but be faithful to her son throughout your marriage and in fact whilst going through the long and bitter divorce. It was her son who couldn’t keep it in his pants. Anger took over and just as you were about to respond Bucky stood up and moved in front of you.

“Sorry I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to speak to anyone like that,” his voice low and urgent, his metal hand clenching and unclenching quickly by his side.

Eliza smirked, eyes flicking up and down at the man standing in front of her. “Ah I recognise you off the news, you two make the perfect match. Both damaged goods that no normal person could want.”

You stood up and went to stand by Bucky’s side, gently taking his arm in your hands. “That’s enough Eliza, we aren’t family anymore, you have made it evidently clear you want nothing to do with me. The feeling is very much mutual. We have nothing more to say to each other so goodbye.”

She let out a little exclamation of shock, but she quickly recovered her sharp exterior. Without saying another word, she just turned on her heels and left the coffee shop.

Bucky gently led you back to your seat, ignoring the people staring at both of you. You looked like you were in shock.

“Hey…” his thumb caught the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks, “she’s not worth your tears.”

This seemed to finally snap you out of your daze. You look at Bucky and everything just seemed so overwhelming. He was being too kind. Eliza had been right, you were damaged, Bucky deserved more than you, someone who could at least be honest about themselves.

‘I’m sorry Bucky…” you grabbed your bag and tore yourself away from him, running out the café and onto the busy street.

He didn’t follow you immediately like he wanted to, he knew you needed some space. Bucky didn’t know you well but wanted to, he was going to be there for you if you let him. Besides he had an inkling about where you were.

You were exactly where he thought you would be, sat on a bench in the park, covered by a weeping willow.

“Mind if I sit,” you jumped at the intrusion. Bucky stood in front of you, holding two take-out cups from the coffee shop and what looked like a very chocolatey cookie.

All of you could do was nod, the shame of Eliza’s words and your own dishonesty still coursing through you.

“Here,” Bucky offered you the cup and you numbly accepted. “Do you want to split this?” he held up the bag and you rolled your eyes at him. “I mean, I’m quite happy to eat it all,” he sent you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help the little snort that escaped you. “We’ll split it, would hate for you to have to spend an extra hour in the gym burning off a whole cookie.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased, opening the bag and poking out the cookie for you to snap off half of it.

Both of you sat and ate without uttering a word to one another. You couldn’t believe he was being so nice to you; you certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I can see why you like it here so much,” Bucky commented, breaking the silence.

“Bucky, how did you know I’d be here?” You turned to face him and took a sip of your coffee.

“I’ve seen you here before. But before you think I’ve been stalking you let me explain. I grew up around here, a couple of blocks away actually. I like to come here for a walk sometimes to remember the happier more carefree times. I spotted you one day but you looked so content in your own little world, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeks flushed slightly with his admission.

He cleared his throat and looked at the coffee cup in his hands before continuing. “Then I started coming here more regularly, hoping I would see you, but I never plucked up the courage to come and talk to you.”

“I’m sorry Bucky” you said quietly.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me today and I still don’t know what you’ve got to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that woman was way out of line. You don’t owe me an apology for anything,” His brows knitted together with concern and it made you feel even more guilty.

“I should’ve told you about the divorce,” smiling ruefully, placing your empty coffee cup between you on the bench.

“I already knew,” he shrugged.

“What? How? I hadn’t told anyone at work,” you spluttered in shock.

“That’s how,” he nodded to where your thumb and forefinger were twisting around where your wedding ring used to be.

You let go immediately and shook your head. “Why did you ask me out for coffee if you knew about my divorce?”

It was perplexing to you that anyone would want to come anywhere near you after your divorce. You had just assumed you would be alone forever. No one had two people out there meant for them. Well, maybe Leon hadn’t been your one.

“We can’t help our past,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, “I know that better than most. All we can do is make the most of our future. I like you, have since I met you. In fact, Sam got so fed up of me talking about you, that he threatened to ask you out himself if I didn’t hurry up and get on with it. Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just thought you could do so much better that an ex-brainwashed assassin.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, anyone would be lucky to have you” you whispered.

Bucky leant over and wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised had begun to roll down your cheeks. “I don’t just want anyone though,” His deep blue eyes peered into yours trying to get across his meaning.

“I like you too Bucky, but we’ve got to take this slow.” His face lit up at your words and he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

“I’m over 100 years old, slow suits me. But seeing as our first date was hijacked would you like to get some dinner with me? I know a diner around the corner has the best burger in the city.”

“Sounds perfect, but only if you let me get it this time. I owe you for the coffee and the cookie.” You offered.

“I think I just about agree to terms of that deal,” Bucky laughed, scooped up the rubbish and got to his feet. “Shall we?” he asked, offering you his free hand.

You put your hand in his and got to your feet. “Let’s go.”

Gif not mine, credit to the creator

Divider made by the talented @firefly-graphics

Taglists are open. Let me know if you want in or out

Everything:

@stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog, @angrythingstarlight, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @rogueheretic555, @rebekahdawkins, @chrissquares, @pumpkin-and-pine, @hereforbuckyandsteve, @drakelover78, @baddie-barnes, @cas25214, @pandaxnienke, @thehumanistsdiary, @saiyanprincessswanie, @ladyacrasia, @sweeterthanthis, @joannie95, @lennon-knox, @navybrat817

Bucky:

@its-izzys, @archy3001

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #fluff #request fic

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heximagines · 4 years

Text

Jealousy pt. 3 | Bo x GN! Reader x Vincent

Here it is! Part 3! Now to just decide who reader ends up with. Hmmm...

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

Over the few days that followed your date with Bo, the twin had become increasingly touchy with you. It was becoming a common occurrence for him to press kisses to the top of your head when you walked past, rest his hand on your lower back, or pull you against his side on the couch. Gladly you leaned into every little touch, never noticing the pointed looks Bo would shoot Vincent whenever he was around. However you did notice that you were seeing Vincent less and less. You thought it was because he was busy at first but it had been a while since anyone came into town now.

Bo was at the station today and Vincent was still nowhere to be seen, leaving you alone in the house. You’d watched a movie, cleaned the kitchen, and patched some holes in the old walls but the day always crawled along when you were alone. When noon rolled around you decided to pay Vincent a visit. You fixed him something easy for him to eat for lunch before wrapping up the plate. You chose to take the main road through town on your way to the museum as opposed to going through the tunnels. You loved to stroll through town and admire the brothers’ work, especially when the sun was high in the sky making everything look vibrant and cheery. For just a moment you could pretend that you were a normal person living in a normal town. When you arrived on the steps of the museum you took one more look around before slipping inside. From where you stood you could hear Vincent’s music float up from between the floorboards, gentle and airy. Your lips curled up in a small smile and you took your time to weave through the exhibits, stopping to look at some of your favorite pieces and new ones. You guessed Vincent had been busy, while you didn’t notice any new figures there were more paintings and bits of furniture that hadn’t been there the last time. You paused at a portrait you thought was particularly beautiful. It featured a woman veiled in white, not quite like a bride but angelic. You tilted your head and your fingers itched to reach out and touch it but you held back. Finally you were jarred from your thoughts at the sound of footsteps coming up the hidden stairway in the next room. You turned your head to the door and waited for Vincent to appear. When he did he had another canvas cradled gently in his large hands. He started when he noticed you and fumbled with the piece but quickly regained his composure. “Sorry, Vin. Didn’t mean to scare you.” You gave him a shy smile and held up the plate. “I brought you lunch.”

Vincent had set down his newest creation and the two of you were now sitting on a Victorian style fainting couch he had recently fabricated, your knee just barely brushing his. The newest painting he brought up was very similar to the one you’d been admiring earlier and you motioned towards them. “They’re beautiful Vincent. You’re so talented.” You turned to smile at him, but Vincent wasn’t looking at you. His eye was trained firmly on the plate he was holding in his lap. You turned your whole body towards him and placed a hand on Vincent’s knee, making him jerk away. You yanked your hand back before looking up at him, confused. Sure Vincent was skittish at the best of times but he’d been acting so strange lately. He signed a quick, ‘Sorry, I need to get back to work’ before getting up to retreat back down there he’d come from. You frowned and looked at the painting he’d left abandoned where it sat. Something about it felt a bit familiar but you couldn’t quite place it.

That night when you sat at the dinner table across from Bo Vincent was still nowhere to be seen. You sat with your chin in your palm, pushing the food around your plate too lost in thought to eat. Bo’s hand slid across the table and he coaxed your’s from your chin into his own. “Somethin’ bothering ya sugar?” You gave him a half hearted smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you think Vincent has been acting weird?” Bo scoffed a bit. “He’s probably just busy. He’ll come around.” Your lips twisted into a frown. “No, I don’t think that’s it... Today I went to bring him lunch and-” “Why?” He cut in, making you pause. “Huh?” Bo set his fork down and now he was frowning too. “Why did ya go and bring him lunch?” Your brows draw together and you shake your head. “I-I don’t know. I just hadn’t seen him in a while. I thought it’d be nice.” Suddenly you were nervous. All the sweetness Bo had shown you was absent now as he pushed away from the table and stood. His chair toppled to the ground as he grabbed his plate and tossed it into the sink, food still on it. “Vincent doesn’t need you to be nice to him. He’s fine.” Slowly you stood and moved across the room to place your hands on Bo’s shoulders, rubbing soothingly. You could see how they relaxed at your touch but the underlying tenseness was still there. “Bo...” He took a deep breath and his fingers, which were gripping the edge of the sink, flexed. You gently pushed on his shoulder, making him turn towards you. “What’s going on in your head?” You combed your hands though Bo’s hair before wrapping your arms around his neck. Instinctively his own hands came to your waist, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about it okay? And don’t worry none about Vincent. He’s just...” He bobbed his head, trying to find what he wanted to say. “Throwing a damn tantrum.” Your eyebrows shot up. Vincent was never one for outbursts, not even when visitors entered town. He was always calm, calculated. Though you supposed if he were to throw a tantrum as Bo put it this would be the way he’d go about it. “Now why would he be doing that?” He snorted and shook his head. “Because he’s not gettin’ what he wants.” You really hated it when Bo was cryptic, and it happened much more frequently than you’d expect with someone so brash. Finally he kissed your forehead and pulled away. “Just don’t worry okay? He’ll get over it. He’s just gotta.” With that Bo playfully smacked your ass. “How about you go on and relax. I got the dishes.” You weren’t ready to let this go quite yet, but you knew better than to push Bo on a subject he didn’t wanna speak about. So you relented. Besides, you weren’t eager to fish his uneaten food out of the sink anyway.

That night as you laid in bed your thoughts lingered on Vincent. The way he’d jumped away from your touch, like your fingertips scalded him, it made your chest clench uncomfortably. You knew Bo wan’t going to tell you what was up. So you’d just have to find out yourself. Quiet as a mouse you tiptoed out of your room, eyeing Bo’s closed door just across the hall. From outside you could just barely hear his gentle snores, signaling that he was in a deep sleep. You slipped down the stairs and made a beeline for the hidden staircase that would bring you down into the tunnels. When you arrived at the door of Vincent’s workshop you lingered outside, listening to the calming melody of Vivaldi maybe? You weren’t as familiar with classical artists as Vincent. You weren’t sure what you were going to say but you’d already made up your mind. Finally, you knocked softly, so softly you thought he didn’t hear you. You almost turned around and went right back to bed when the door opened an inch. You gave Vincent a shy smile and he opened the door wider. He eyed your face before signing, ‘Y/n, what’s wrong?’ You chuckled and rubbed your cheek. “That obvious huh?” Vincent tilted his head at you before opening the door wider and ushering you into his workspace. Inside it was broiling hot and the molten wax cast an orange glow over everything. Vincent pulled up a comfortable looking chair for you, patting it. You sat down and watched as Vincent moved to lean against his worktable, keeping a physical distance from you. Anxiously you twiddled your thumbs. “Vincent I’ve been noticing that you’re acting... Well you’re just not around. And I’m just a little worried.” You looked up to watch Vincent. His shoulders hunched over and he seemed to want to look anywhere but at you. Now that you were thinking about it Vincent never avoided your gaze. If he wasn’t staring right back into your eyes while you spoke he was always sitting right in your line of sight, like he wanted you to see him. Now he looked like he wished he could disappear completely. “A-And Bo said that I should just, leave you alone and not bother you. And I don’t want to. Bother you that is. So I’m sorry if I am. I’m just... Worried... Like I said.” You wanted to kick yourself. You really should have figured out what you wanted to say and now you were just rambling on like a moron. Finally Vincent uncrossed hsi arms and lifted his hands. ‘What else did Bo say?’ You bit your lip, Vincent new his brother too well. “He, uh, he thinks you’re just... Upset. And he wouldn’t tell me why.” You phrased it as delicately as possible. Vincent nodded at that seeming to understand something that you just weren’t quite getting at yet. Slowly he came to kneel in frint of you and you smiled just a little. ‘I’m not upset with you. You know that right?’ You only gave a small shrug in response. Vincent exhaled through his nose before standing and crossing the room. He came to stop at his drawing desk, gathering up a sketchbook he flipped though the pages thoughtfully before closing it. He seemed to think for a moment before sighing again. Slowly he walked back over to you. He seemed to be dreading what was going to happen and he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every little detail. As if you were going to disappear. Vincent pulled up his own chair and sat down across from you this time. His fingers flexed around the notebook, similar to how Bo’s flexed when he was anxious. Finally he held the book out to you. You took it from him with care and waited until he nodded before you flipped it open to the first page. Your own image stared back up at you and for a moment you were awestruck. The attention to detail was amazing. As you slowly turned through the pages you could feel Vincent tensing. Until finally you found a familiar sketch. It was one of the new paintings. But now you can see the details underneath the veil he layered over them. It was your own face. Finally you closed the book and met Vincent’s eye. Everything clicked together in your head now and your heart ached for Vincent. “You made me look so... Beautiful.” ‘It’s not hard,’ his hands gestured. You smiled softly before leaning in to hug Vincent tightly. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling you in, practically crushing you in his embrace. You knew Vincent didn’t just fear rejection, he expected it. And Even though he hid it under ego and bravado Bo was exactly the same. You knew you needed to work something out soon but for now you just smoothed your hand over Vincent’s back and let him hold you until he was ready to let go.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #slasher imagines #slasher x reader

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this?

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well.

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded.

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases.

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded.

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.”

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply.

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you.

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said.

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file.

“Thought you might have some ideas.”

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh.

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it.

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.”

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words.

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her.

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented.

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window.

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you.

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana.

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented.

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet.

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder.

“And Jack was counting on it.”

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife.

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels.

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled.

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out.

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.”

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically.

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.”

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.”

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?”

Will nodded.

“Just us.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked.

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded.

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi.

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?”

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside.

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families.

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?”

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside.

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life.

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?”

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?”

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood.

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely.

“Will?”

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.”

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him.

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.”

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this.

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.”

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage.

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart.

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.”

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.”

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm.

“Does Will know you’re here?”

“No. I didn’t tell him.”

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed.

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?”

“Better. No people in the diet these days.”

“Pity.”

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.”

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked.

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried. When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her.

“Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully.

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?”

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked.

“A complicated one,” you said sternly.

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding.

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.”

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.”

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room.

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.”

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.”

It was his turn to take in the information.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself.

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief.

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone.

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath.

3x10

#will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

So at some point, @alwaysbethewest (thankyou for the beta read!) mentioned that our mutual friend @keeper0fthestars has a thing for wearing Marcus Pike’s shirt/people wearing his shirt. So, then after Mary and I screamed at each other for a bit, this happened. Marcus Pike/f!reader

lovely gif by @beccaplaying

Warnings: None. Well, shameless fluff, a tablespoon of angst.

Word count: 1700

Your alarm sounded from the kitchen. T-minus two hours until Marcus came home.

Double-checking everything was still in place, you jumped in the shower, hoping that the love of your life wouldn’t be mad at you. Or worse, sad. Or even worse, disappointed.

You started to feel a bit sick.

But you’d started now. And you were reasonably confident of the outcome.

Two weeks ago, you’d come home early from a night out. Marcus and his old army buddy Zach were on the couch, finishing a pizza, ribbing each other. You‘d poked your head in to say hi, then started to brush your teeth in the bathroom, when you heard Zach and Marcus step into the hallway.

“I don’t know, man,” Marcus was saying, pitching his voice low. He didn’t realise you had the door ajar. “Can I do it a third time? I’d all but sworn off dating when I met her, and proposing… could seriously mess it up. I can’t risk it. She’s beyond. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

Zach replied with something unintelligible, then they exchanged pleasantries and you heard the door close, before Zach’s footfalls sounded on the stairs.

Now, you dried yourself off, thinking of that night.

No one should have to propose three times.

When you’d met Marcus, his eyes were so sad. That soulful brown didn’t warm when he smiled. His eyes didn’t quite crinkle at the edges. It wasn’t until you’d been dating a month that you saw him full-on smile when you arrived at his apartment, your arms full of flowers.

“What’s this?” he’d asked, perplexed.

You passed the bouquet of daisies to him, their sunny faces making you happier immediately. “I was thinking, what should I bring to dinner? Then I thought, women don’t buy men flowers. Why not? Everyone should have flowers.”

And he’d smiled. Full-on, gorgeous teeth, crinkly-eyed grin. And you’d already been falling in love with him, but at that moment you tumbled headlong over the cliff, without a single regret.

You hung your towel and moved to your wardrobe, then hesitated. Marcus loved seeing you in his clothes. In fact, he’d once said it was his favourite sight. He’d left a shirt at your apartment a couple months into your relationship and you’d forgotten to return it, wore it sometimes. You always ended up having fantastic sex when you wore it unbuttoned too low, tied at the waist.

You’d kept it because it smelled of him, and when you two finally moved in together, after many discussions, that white shirt with the faint blue-lined check still lived in your wardrobe.

You tugged it out now, slipped it on over your lace bra, buttoning it just enough that the edge of red lace could be seen. You pulled on low-slung jeans, knotted the shirt’s ends.

One hour to go.

You’d prepped dinner earlier - took the afternoon off so Marcus wouldn’t suspect. His favourite - pancakes with lashings of maple syrup and bacon. The pancakes sat in a stack on the stove ready to be warmed-up, the bacon ready to fry when the timer got closer to when he’d be coming through the door.

After fixing your make-up and spraying on your favourite perfume, you set some music playing - Marcus always said it’s impossible to go wrong with Otis Redding, and as usual, he was infuriatingly right - and just as you wondered if you’d forgotten something, his key sounded in the lock.

Shit, the ring!

You dove for the bedroom, snagged the box from the very, very bottom of your underwear drawer and stuffed it into one of your pockets.

“Hey, sweetheart, I-” Marcus stopped in the doorway, his brow furrowed. “I smell pancakes…?”

He looked good. He sometimes took his tie off on the way home, and this was one of those days, his collar popped two buttons, his jacket loose.

The beard he’d grown for undercover work shortly after the Teresa debacle still hugged his face, scruffy-neat. You’d convinced him to keep it. It made him sexier, emphasized his fantastic jawline and bone structure, and besides, you loved the feel of that scruff on your skin, under your hands.

You walked over to greet him, saw his gaze dip down to his shirt, watched his lips curve slowly, those chocolate eyes warming up. “Well. Seems like I might be in for a treat.”

He tugged you close, filling his hands with your ass, pressing into you, and you lifted your face for his kiss, opening when his tongue traced your smile. He made a low hmmm in his throat and you vowed not to get distracted.

“Sit, baby,” you encouraged.

“But… this shirt.” He nibbled at your pulse point, traced a finger down the open neck of his button-down.

“Sit. Let me spoil you.”

Narrowing his eyes, Marcus let you go, then tossed his keys in the pot by the kitchen door. “And Otis Redding? Is there… something I should know? Is it my birthday? ‘Cause I’m willing to change it to today for this.”

You smiled, chucked the bacon in the skillet. “There’re two beers in the fridge.”

He shrugged his jacket off, hung it on the kitchen chair as was his habit, then pulled the door open. “My favourite kind. Sweetheart…”

“Sit,” you dictated.

Marcus winged a brow up. “Mmmmm. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

Otis crooned Try a Little Tenderness as the smell of bacon filled the kitchen, rich and pleasantly greasy.

“How was your day?” Marcus asked, cracking open both beers and placing one at your elbow. He rounded the counter, sat at the table. You were momentarily distracted by the sight of him tipping his head back slightly to drink, exposing the very biteable line of his neck, and the pan spat hot grease on to the curve of your breast, naked above the low lace bra.

“Shit!” You shut the heat off, crumpling to the floor, your hands on your inflamed skin. “Should’ve got an apron,” you groused, more to yourself than to him.

“Whoa!” Marcus rushed over, bending down to assess the damage, his whiskey-gold gaze roaming over you, cataloguing every detail. He stood to grab a cloth from the kitchen cupboard, ran it under cold water, pressed it to the curve of your breast. “Better, sweetheart?”

“Much better.”

His eyes roamed over your face. Always thinking of you, your Marcus. Always caring, never putting himself first. So you had to put him first.

When he stood, saying, “I’ll get a bandaid,” you had a sudden idea. As he turned, you snagged his hand, knelt up.

“Marcus Matthew Pike.”

He froze, then very slowly, turned to face you. The look on his face was deadly sombre, like he was waiting for the axe to fall. You squeezed his hand.

“I think I have loved you since the day we met. I love your smile. Your kindness. Your ability to see the good in everything. Some of that was taken from you, but you’re still the guy who sings in the shower-”

Marcus winced. “Off-key.”

“Don’t interrupt my proposal. You’re the guy who looks forward to a rainbow rather than complaining about the rain, the guy who saves stolen art and learns the story behind the piece, and tells it again and again, so the artists live forever. That’s a man I want in my life forever. Marcus, will you marry me?” You dug the box from your pocket and popped it one-handed, revealing a slim, simple platinum band nestling in soft leather.

“Sweetheart…”

You held your breath,

Marcus knelt to face you, cupping your cheek. “I was working up to it. I swear I was.”

You shook your head. “No one should have to propose three times.”

He bent and touched his forehead to yours, sighing, his eyes warm, soft, crinkled at the corners. “I love you. So much. I love waking up next to you. I love it when you fall asleep on me during old movies. I love that you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I’d be. So yeah. Yes, please, I would very much like to marry you.”

You held his hand, slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly. The way Marcus fit inside your heart, taking up all the available space, his edges lining up with yours.

“I know guys don’t usually have rings, but-”

“I love it. I love you. I love that you did this.” He tugged you in for a warm, soft kiss, then overbalanced, pulling you with him, and you sprawled together on the kitchen floor, laughing together.

Eventually you remembered the bacon, drizzling it with maple syrup in the pan and tearing off bits of pancake to dip in the sticky mixture, feeding each other as Otis Redding serenaded you, and it was perfection.

Much, much later, Marcus showed you how much he loved his shirt on you. But how much more he liked it on the bedroom floor.

Pedro Pals, assemble! @gamingaquarius @a-seeker-of-imagination @knittingqueen13 @alldatalost @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @songsformonkeys @pascalitomarcuspike @cryptkeepersoul @pedropascallion @seawhisperer @thegreenkid @pajamasecrets @starlight-starwrites @agirllovespasta @scarlettvonsass @mourningbirds1 @oloreaa @mrschiltoncat @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @emmy-dandiliom918 @holographic-carmen @heatherbel @nelba @abuttoncalledsmalls @winters-buck @buckstaposition @opheliaelysia @jaime1110 Please ask to be added to, or dropped from, the tags!

#marcus pike fic #marcus pike x reader #in which I choose a random middle name for Marcus and Mary approves #FUCK OFF PATRICK JANE

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gamer-logic · 3 years

Text

Since my state, Georgia, is having the annual Peaches to Beaches event which is two days of statewide yard sales, I thought it would be interesting to show how America, the states, and any other countries wanting to participate both 1p and 2p would be during this event. So here you go!

Georgia is happily selling fresh produce like boiled peanuts and Vidalia onions and peach-based deserts. Her homemade peach cobbler and ice cream are to die for!

Antonio (Spain) also sells many fresh tomatoes, olives, and other vegetables. He doesn't understand why no one wants his Olive Juice though.

Hawaii and Alaska make a killing selling lemonade at their stand with a free complimentary handmade flower crown with every purchase. While using their sheer cuteness to attract everyone including one of those sweet biker gangs. It's really surreal to see a huge gang of buff, tattooed, tough-looking guys in leather wearing flower crowns and drinking lemonade. Allen's also there to supervise and ward of creep. Also, to provide people more 'incentive' to buy their lemonade.

Texas breaks out the Texas BBQ and is in a Barbecuing turf war with Jett (Australia). They draw huge crowds for the five-alarm chili as well and hold a competition who can eat the most without burning out their tongues and/or passing out.

Florida sells some of the weirdest stuff you'll ever see. "Want a full-scale model of a gator made entirely out of bottle caps? Only ten bucks! Want a portrait of Florida Man painted with orange juice? 15 bucks!"

Nevada also tries to sell weird and sketchy stuff to scam everyone. "This piece is the genuine article folks! One napkin gently used by Elvis Presley himself! Just 500 bucks! Also, gets into a haggling war with Lars (Netherlands). Somewhere Alfred's dad instincts go off and he reminds himself to ground Nevada.

California, Oregon, and Washington collaborate and California sells anything vegan or made with avocadoes and the autographs of Hollywood stars, Oregon sells his old tye-dyed shirts and records, they also made him sell his old groovy hippy bus from the sixties he'd never got rid of no one knew they had. Oregon can be a bit of a hoarder, so they had to tie him to a chair and gag him because he wouldn't surrender the bus without a fight. Washington also tries to sell and drink cups of coffee, but in the hot Southern heat, this doesn't end well.

Louisiana sells anything Cajun-style from frog legs to fresh gumbo, to beignets. Also has a full collection of Mardi Gras masks and shrunken voodoo heads on sale for two bucks a pop.

Gilbert (Prussia) gets tricked by Nevada and gets a ton of stupid things he doesn't need. Ludwig (Germany) tries unsuccessfully to keep him on a metaphorical leash.

Ludwig always checks the quality of things he sees and buys dog toys and supplies for Blackie, Berlitz, and Astor. Later, he actually buys a kiddie leash for Gilbert.

All the while Lutz (2p! Germany) is asleep in a lawn chair with his hat on his face after drinking like six cold beers from this really good booth. All the while, Klaus (2p! Prussia) finds an antique Teutonic Knights flag from a vendor whose family was from Germany.

Vash (Switzerland) buys antique guns from Alabama and Roderich (Austria) also checks out some of Tennessee's guitars. He's horrified upon seeing Alabama's banjo and washboard.

Mathew (Canada) and Emma (Belgium) combine their powers and tag team to sell the best pancakes and waffles on earth with genuine Canadian maple syrup.

New York sells tons of baseball memorabilia and collectibles. Allen, trying to save his bad-boy image, tries to be discreet when buying some while taking Hawaii and Alaska around to get something with their lemonade money. James also gets some hockey memorabilia with Michigan and Minnesota who also got snow cones.

Alaska and Hawaii see a giant deluxe dollhouse but are almost in tears when they don't have enough money. But they end up getting it for free because no one can resist their weaponized puppy dog eyes. Also, no one can resist a growling Allen. Using the leftover money, they buy cute little rainbow umbrella hats for everyone and have Allen wear one who begrudgingly accepts it.

James, walking by with an armful hockey gear and flannel shirts, bursts out laughing when he sees this. In revenge, Allen forces him to wear one too and help him carry the dollhouse, much to Hawaii and Alaska's delight! "I said go my way puck head!" "No, it's my way, you vegan loving hoser!" A passing Francis (France)' is in stylish horror when they also make him and a nonchalant Luis (2p! France), holding a case of vintage wines, wear them too. Hawaii and Alaska go around giving umbrella hats to everyone including a sleeping Lutz they pass by.

Loving (Romano) practically has to supervise Feliciano (Italy) and keep him from buying anything too stupid on impulse or get scammed. They still end up with stacks upon stacks of cookbooks, kitchen wear, and a Mona Lisa made entirely out of Macaroni. They also get umbrella hats.

Flavio (2p! Romano) browses through clothing racks to get ideas for his vintage line. Also checks out the handmade fabrics like quilts. "Such craftsmanship! This pattern is so unique and chic! I simply must have it! What's your price Bella?" The nice old woman selling the quilt just smiles, "Oh just about five dollars young man." "Perfect!" Flavio hands the quilts off to Andreas (2p! Spain) who's practically buried underneath the fabric. Luciano (2p! Italy) facepalms while holding a new knife set in its case. "Oooh! Look at those adorable hats I just have to have one." Cue three more umbrella hats and a humiliated Luciano. "Just kill me now..."

Katyusha (Ukraine), Elizaveta (Hungary), Lillie (Liechtenstein), Natalya, (Belarus), Katya( 2p! Ukraine) and Anastasia (2p! Belarus), and Michelle (Seychelles) explore with armfuls of clothes, new ribbons, and a gun case for Switzerland (Lillie), cast iron frying pans (Elizaveta, watch out Prussia!), farm tools (Katyusha), Jewelry and unmentionables (Katya), dresses (Anastasia), an assortment of switchblades (Natalya), and one of those singing fish on a plague (Michelle). It's definitely an interesting group.

Kiku (Japan) and Kuro (2p! Japan) find a nerd booth selling comics, manga, and Japanese weapons like katanas. Kuro test swings a blade and tries to slice the table so hard it breaks the blade, "Hmmm, not sharp enough for me, got anything else?" He throws it on the pile of broken blades he's already tested. Kiku stockpiles on limited-edition manga and he and the vendor end up getting into a huge, heated by Kiku standards, debate on who's waifu is best. Further down, Alfred reads every Marvel/DC comic while keeping an ear out on every state's location. He checks on Texas via his glasses and notices he's beating Australia in the chili contest. "That's my boy!"

Wisconsin wearing a cheese head sells anything cheese-based. He's got cheddar, goat cheese, string cheese, cheese spray, gorgonzola, grilled cheese, cheese curds, Mac n' Cheese, cheese sculptures of all world monuments, you name it he's got it! He also starts a war with Iowa's corn dishes and Idaho's potato dishes. They eventually end up flinging cheese, potatoes, and corn after they start dissing each other's foods. "Take this cheese brain!" "Nice aim, I-da-ho!" "I told you not to call me that!" "I'm gonna go children of the corn on y'all's behinds!" Poor Nebraska is stuck in the middle.

Alfred (America) hears the commotion and using his parent radar, immediately knows who it is and reminds himself to ground Iowa, Wisconsin, and Idaho later along with Nevada who, though still grounded for sure, makes him feel a little proud of since he managed to out haggle Netherlands.

New Mexico and Arizona also sell Native American handicrafts along with things like dreamcatchers and giant inflatable aliens. While Delaware, being the boring stick in the mud that he is, walks by with a framed and complete U.S. quarter collection from a vendor.

Kansas sells out of every sunflower she had courtesy of Ivan (Russia). Ivan and her the team up to buy out every sunflower seed from here to kingdom come. Viktor (2p! Russia) buys all the vodka he can find and a new shovel while Xiao (2p! China) tries giving people tattoos for 10 bucks a pop.

He tries to convince Yao (China) to get a hello kitty one to match the giant plushie he's holding, with the encouragement of Leon (Hong Kong) and Yong Soo (South Korea) who all collectively agree he needs to quit being such a grandpa. They also like calling him an antique-like the items on sale. " Aiyah! I'm not that old, aru!" "Yeah, you are Sensei." "Don't deny it! Da Ze!" Respect your elders!" "Tattoos originated in Korea da ze!" He totally is that old.

Oliver (2p! England) holds a bake sale and has people lined up for blocks to get some. Arthur (England), after having his scones shut down after it poisoned some unlucky squirrels, fries selling authentic magical items like unicorn hair or pixie dust. Everyone thinks he's a little crazy but he did sell a good bit of old magic books he needed to get out of his house, after making sure no one could actually use them of course.

The Nordics also went perusing for antique and handmade furniture when Mathias (Denmark) spots two full sets of Viking costumes and tries to get Lukas (Norway) to try them on with him. Lukas wasn't amused.

Berwald (Sweden) and Tino (Finland) also find a great handmade table to get after inspecting the workmanship and a full Lego set for Peter (Sealand), now if only Mathias would stop squealing like a little kid at the full piece lego death star. Emil (Iceland) keeps thinking he's the mature one until he spots a mini top hat and cane for Mr. Puffin.

In the end, everyone ends up wearing umbrella hats courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska, loving all the strange things they bought or counting the profits they made. Alfred (America) is proud of his kids and visits everyone one of their stands. He ends up looking pretty funny with an umbrella hat (HW, AK), a washboard, (AL),a picture of Florida Man, (FL), a balloon alien (NM, AZ), a tye dye shirt (CA, WA, OR), hockey stick shaped glasses (MN, MI), a giant stack of comics with a replica Thor hammer and Captain America shield on his back, all in a shopping cart (NV), and a giant turkey leg in his hand (Tx). Unsurprisingly, it was a tie between Oliver, Texas, and Australia for who earned the most with their food. Georgia just smiled as this was another great year for her state and people!

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alj4890 · 3 years

Note

I got an ask? What if we get Liams POV when Riley is with Olivia at the family vault? How did he even know the game doesn’t really tell us anything about how he found out.

A/N Hmmm. Interesting. You're right. How did he know where they went? Olivia took Riley through a secret passageway to avoid bumping into Mira and anyone else lurking in the hallways. Let's try and figure out how Liam did this without the use of x-ray vision or telepathy, LOL!

@krsnlove @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg

Masterlist

Down to the Wire

Lythikos...

Time rarely seemed to be on Liam's side. The more obstacles he encountered, the more he realized that everything he attempted only succeeded at the last possible second. His having to choose Madeleine at the final moment to protect Riley. Riley and their friends finding Tariq right at the moment before all hope to end his engagement was met. Drake diving in front of Riley to save her from being shot. His father pushing him out of the way from being crushed.

Everything in his life came down to a handful of finite seconds that held the very fabric of his fate.

He didn't particularly care that this was how his life would be. He wanted to be able to plan, have time to study every possible scenario and discover a way to combat the problems that could occur. Fate it seemed thought otherwise.

Olivia's festival was in full swing. As he walked around with Riley, it seemed that the horrors that had befallen Cordonia had yet to touch this wintery corner of the country. Madeleine's poisoning the night before wasn't spoken of. The few snatches of conversations he heard from nobles centered around the freezing temperatures and Lythikos ale.

Did no one care what was going on in the shadows?

When Riley left his side to try and draw the enemy out, he had to fight every single aspect of his personality to remain behind. He had come so close so many times in losing her, that the thought of placing her in this type of situation hurt horribly. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

"I'll be fine." Riley had pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "I promise that nothing will keep me from marrying you."

He had hugged her close, almost wishing he could command her to remain in the safety of his embrace. Yet he knew that he never would demand such from her. His love was a brave, intelligent, and independent woman. He didn't want to destroy any part of her personality just to assuage his fears.

"Stay safe for my sake." He pleaded, kissing her once more. He raised a gloved hand to her cheek, eyes tracing the features he adored. "And knock Drake down with a snowball."

She laughed while hugging him tight. He watched her walk off toward the areas where snowy fields awaited those seeking a moment away from the crowd.

If that didn't draw their enemy out, he honestly didn't know what would.

Deciding to walk around alone and enjoy the merchant tents set up, he happened upon a heated conversation between Olivia and Lucretia.

"Humph. Your mother and father would have rather died than bow and simper before the king and court." Lucretia spat.

"They did die for not showing deference." Olivia snapped.

Lucretia glared at her for such a flippant response.

"To think that their only child would roll out the red carpet for our enemies is beyond disgraceful. Where is the Nevarkis blood? Why does it not boil with hatred toward Constantine and his progeny?"

"This Nevarkis blood does boil with hatred toward my enemies." Olivia responded. "Constantine might have been my enemy in the end but Liam never has. He's the best man I have ever known. He earned my respect and devotion years ago. I--"

"Spare me your lovesick musings." Lucretia waived off Olivia's compliments for the new king. "You've allowed this school girl crush to dilute what was once the pride of the Nevarkis name." Her lip curled in disgust. "To think our line depends solely on you."

Olivia's hands fisted over the insults. "Feel free to leave anytime you wish. That's all you've been good for."

Lucretia opened her mouth then paused at the set down she was about to give her niece. A slight smile formed on her thin lips.

"Still too scared to go to the family vault and see what your name, your very makeup, is, aren't you?"

Olivia's brow furrowed somewhat. "What does the vault have to do with--"

Lucretia held her hand up to silence her. She turned around and started to walk away. "The vault is no place for cowards. If I were you, I wouldn't dare step inside."

"I'm not a coward!" Olivia snapped at her aunt's back. Blinking back angry tears, she spun on her heel and disappeared in the opposite direction.

Liam stepped out from behind the tent he had been hidden. His eyebrows drew together as he thought over the unusual turn in their conversation.

What did the vault contain that Lucretia so desperately wanted Olivia to discover?

Wishing Bastien was here, Liam was forced to call Mira.

"Meet me over by the ice sculptures with schematics of Lythikos." He whispered.

***************

Olivia's home...

In an empty room, Liam studied the layout of the bottom level of Lythikos. His jaw clenched at what could be turned into a deadly trap.

"There appears to be only one way in and out of the vault, sir." Mira pointed out.

"Appearances can be deceiving." He told her, eyes narrowing at the lack of secret passageways marked on the blueprint. He knew from his visits here that it was similar to most of the castles in Cordonia. Each one had numerous hidden doors, hallways, and secret rooms.

There had to be at least one that the Nevarkis ruler would have used in the past to reach their treasured possessions.

"We'll watch from here." Liam tapped on an old storage room. "We will be well hidden and can easily see if anyone approaches the door." His eyes narrowed. "If Lucretia tries anything, we can stop her without anyone getting hurt."

"What about Lady Olivia?" Mira asked.

Liam didn't hesitate. "She is not the one attacking Cordonia."

"But, her parents--"

"She is innocent." He snapped. "Olivia has been my friend since she was five years old. She would never betray me."

Mira bowed her head. "Sorry sir."

He wished Bastien was here. He would have at least offered something more than accusations. "Once the court has retired for the night, we will take up our post."

****************

A little after 2 a.m.

It took all of Liam's willpower to not step out of his hiding place.

The sight of Olivia and Riley appearing out of the wall to calmly enter through the locked door leading down to the vault had made his muscles tense in anticipation.

Mira had silently questioned if she should save their future queen. He held his hand up to stop her. He could tell that Riley was not a prisoner. She had come willingly down here, most likely in support of Olivia.

It wasn't long though that he noticed Lucretia with a man that he knew too well.

"Is that--" Mira whispered.

Liam nodded.

He had finally found the link to every attack in the palace: Justin.

****************

"You should have stayed in New York, Riley." Justin said. "Why did you have to accept Liam’s proposal and come back?" His lips twisted in a bitter grimace as he leveled his pistol on her chest.

"Shoot her and get it over with." Lucretia snapped.

"No!" Olivia cried out trying to move in front of Riley.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Liam ordered as he and the King's Guards fanned out as much as possible in the narrow hallway.

Justin shook his head in frustration. "It is my time! I am the king Cordonia needs."

Lucretia maneuvered between Justin and Liam. Her evil smile formed as she pretended to stumble against the stone wall.

"If Olivia will not take her rightful place as queen, then she too must die with the rest of the filth."

Liam heard an ominous click as the entire bottom floor shook. His eyes widened at the charges exploding around the vault.

"Get out of there!" He screamed at Riley and Olivia.

He pushed his way through the guards rushing to stop Justin and Lucretia from escaping through yet another hidden door. His hands reached out towards them, praying he could reach them before they were trapped in the vault.

His mind refused to contemplate them being crushed to death by the heavy stones.

Riley grasped Olivia's hand and pulled her out. She went directly into Liam's arms, closing her eyes tightly as shouts filled the hallway and the floor finally stilled.

Olivia waved her hand through the dust in an attempt to see if they had caught the two who were behind this new wave of treachery.

Lucretia was handcuffed and held down on the floor by a guard while Mira cursed.

"Justin escaped." She told them bitterly.

Liam's arms tightened around Riley when he felt her tremble.

"At least now we know who our enemy is." She said, clutching him to her.

Liam placed a kiss on top of her head. "Yes, and he will never have another chance to harm you again."

Finally, he was given the precious time he needed to set into motion a plan to protect those he loved the most.

#choices the royal romance #king liam x riley #liam x riley #liam trr #choices trr #trr olivia #trr riley #the royal romance #trr #requests

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vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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

1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question.

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.”

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine.

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places.

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways.

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa.

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago.

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least.

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue.

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him.

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef.

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him.

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef.

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad.

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed.

“I don’t know how to tell.”

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.”

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up.

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled.

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest.

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said.

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.”

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

#hiraeth #IM NERVOUS

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tiny-maus-boots · 3 years

Text

Queen of Hearts pt 11

A/N: sorry it took so long. my world crumbled and well...it’s been a hard ass pandemic.

“So, this is how mobsters live…”

Aubrey flicked her gaze over the interior of the entry way, noting the mix of Corinthian columns and Romanesque sculpture with a splash of modern 80s interior decoration. It was a little over the top and gaudy but her Aunt Rosemarie thought it was the height of tasteful and luxurious décor. It wasn’t how Aubrey would ever decorate but if she were being honest with herself, she kind of liked it. It was familiar and comforting.

Aubrey ran a hand down a heavy marble column and chuckled. “Only the ones with style.”

Stacie’s laugh was sweet and light and soothed the nerves she didn’t even know she had. Aubrey took her fiancée’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Once they crossed the threshold into the living room there would be no turning back. Once you were in the family, you were IN the family, and no one leaves the family. Almost as if sensing what she was about to say, Stacie turned to bring their foreheads together, her smile wide and warm and just for Aubrey.

“You and me, right Bree?”

The blonde matched Stacie’s smile and nodded. “You and me.”

“And me. Don’t forget about me. Which I think you do forget about me because you never call me. You don’t write. No one knows nothing until you text that you’re bringing over the love of your life. You must be love of her life by the way. Hi. I’m Jesse, the smarter, more attractive, and talented, not to mention younger, cousin. Sorry dollface, you got stuck with this sad sack instead. It’s not too late to change your mind though. Just saying.”

A laugh bubbled out of her and Aubrey turned her head to face the annoyingly eager figure hovering just over her shoulder. His giddy smile was ridiculous and she knew she might have to threaten to shoot him to get him to stop being…well himself. Jesse put an arm around each of them, pushing himself further into their personal space and if he were someone other than family Aubrey would definitely shoot him.

“You’re really annoying.”

“Your face is really anno….” It was all the taunt he managed to get out before a black lace folding fan smacked noisily off the back of his head. Aubrey chuckled as Jesse winced and reached up to rub his head. “Ma! It’s said in love!”

“Basta! Get out! Go…”

Jesse wasn’t the biggest guy in the world but he still almost a foot taller than the woman he was cowering away from. Her severe dark brows rose as she hissed out a warning when he didn’t move fast enough down the hall. She watched until she was sure Jesse was actually going before turning to Aubrey, her hard stare going soft as she took in the blonde and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You don’t call except for business; I never see you anymore. Who’s feeding you? You’re wasting away!” Aubrey bore the clucking and poking and prodding because arguing with her Aunt Rosie was like trying to fist fight the tide. She might be a big boss at the table but she was still and would always be Rosie’s little duckling. The small woman finally stopped her scolding tirade turned to take in Stacie in one long look from feet to face. “And who is this?”

“Zia Rosie, this is my girl. Stacie…this is my Aunt Rosemarie.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” If Stacie was nervous meeting Aubrey’s aunt, she didn’t show it, which was smart. Any hint of fear shown now would last forever in Rosie’s mind. She might never mention it but it would be a mark against Stacie that would never go away in her aunt’s eyes. “Your cooking has been all Bree can talk about.”

“Hmmm.” Rosemarie tapped her hand fan lightly against her palm as she considered the brunette towering over her. “You cook? You don’t look like you eat much.”

Aubrey held her breath, unwilling to break into tension of the moment. On the surface it seemed like such a simple if slightly rude question but it wasn’t. Acceptance in the family only came through Rosemarie. If she didn’t like you, no one would trust you. No one.

“Not as well as I’d like to. Yet. But I’m getting there.”

“No one taught you? You have no mother?” The idea of a grown woman not being able to cook wounded something in Rosie’s spirit and Aubrey could feel the smaller woman gather herself to her full tiny tower of 4 feet, 11 inches of righteous indignation. “Who feeds you??”

“My mother is more proficient at ordering food rather than making it.” Stacie’s smile didn’t slip but somehow dimmed in its intensity making the air around them seem somehow heavier. “To be honest with you I didn’t realize how important cooking for your family was until I had one to feed. I could definitely improve…and I will. For my family.”

Rosie gave a slight nod and slid her arm through Stacie’s completely shutting Aubrey out of the conversation. Her aunt gave Stacie one more intense gaze, reading all her flaws and weighing them against whatever ideal she saw in her head.

“You like gnocchi?”

“I love gnocchi.”

“Good. Tomorrow we make. Come early.” Aubrey felt a huge weight slide off her shoulders as she watched her aunt give Stacie’s arm a squeeze. The small woman disengaged their linked arms and whirled on Aubrey with a sharp smack of her fan to the blonde’s shoulder. “And you! You wait so long to bring a good girl home, what’s wrong with you??”

“Sorry Zia…took me awhile to find her.” Stacie gave her a wink over her aunt’s head and Aubrey could feel herself smile in response, almost forgetting her aunt was standing between them. “But I promise I’m not going to let her go now that I have her.”

“Hm, finally something smart. Go…today you work. Tomorrow we eat, hm?”

Aubrey gave an obedient nod of her head and smiled when she was pulled into the softness of her aunt’s chest for a strong rose water scented hug. It reminded her of her childhood and her aunt comforting her through the upheaval of her mother leaving and her father going to prison. It had been a lonely five years for Aubrey but Zia Rosie had always been there waiting, just as ready and eager to give hugs as she did swats of her fan.

Her aunt pulled back and gave her a gentle shove towards the dining room to send them on their way. “Vai mia piccola anatroccolo.”

Aubrey glanced back from the doorway to the dinning room at her aunt still standing there watching her with a soft smile. Her own mother had left her but Aubrey had never lacked the love and caring a mother gave a child. She’d had Zia Rosie to hold her and comfort her through all her childhood hurts and fears, to teach her to cook, and raise a family, to grow from a girl to a woman. No, she hadn’t had the woman that gave birth to her in her life, but she wasn’t without a mother. Rosie turned away toward the kitchen and Aubrey squared her shoulders as she faced the dining room.

She could feel the slight current of nervousness energy from Stacie and gave her a reassuring smile and a wink before leading her into the big room filled with old men with loud voices. There was a chorus of greetings and a few claps from her suit clad uncles sitting around the table. A few of her cousins smirked and teased playfully about being whipped into bringing her girlfriend to the table which Stacie chuckled through. But one man was quiet, his arms folded over his chest, his dark suit pressed perfectly with sharp lines. Franco raised one hand and the boisterous greetings tapered away to silence.

“Hey Uncle Frank.”

He stood slowly from the head of the table and opened his arms. Aubrey didn’t hesitate, she let go of Stacie’s hand so she could go to her uncle and sink into his embrace. He was in his seventies now but the arms enfolding her had the same strength and warmth they had when she was a child. He kissed her head tenderly and held her out at arm’s length to look at her fully.

“Look at you hm? California is good for you; you have a tan and a smile. Who is this bella you bring? Are you why my girl here looks so happy?”

Stacie gave a soft chuckle, her eyes all for Aubrey. “I certainly hope so.”

“Uncle Frank this is Stacie. My fiancée.”

He gave her an approving nod and gathered Stacie in for a tight welcoming hug, kissing her on each cheek before placing her hand back in Aubrey’s. It was enough for him to know that Aubrey was happy and his acceptance was unconditional.

“Jesse…bring an extra chair for Bella.”

“It took me six years to earn a chair and she gets one on the first day? Wow Pops.”

Paolo, her cousin swatted Jesse in the back of head making all of them laugh. Her Uncle Pete leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Hey kid, if you had looked like her, you’d have been in on the first day too.”

Jesse held out his hands in mock offense. “Whoa….hey not for nothing but I AM the only one in this family with the looks, okay? Look at this face. It’s gorgeous. This suit? This suit cost more than your third wedding.”

They all laughed at that as he set the chair next to Aubrey’s at Franco’s right hand and settled Stacie into it. Aubrey gave him a nod of thanks and slid into her seat with ease. She had missed this, being around her family, The Family. Not all of her uncles and cousins were related by shared blood, some of them were bound by the blood they had spilled. Sometimes that was as strong if not stronger than sharing similar DNA.

Stacie gave Jesse a mild smirk and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder so she could take in all of blonde woman at her side. “And for all that you still don’t look as good as Aubrey.”

Her uncles crowed with delight, teasing their sons and nephews with the statement until Uncle Frank cleared his throat and patted the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. He wasn’t a loud man and he didn’t have to be. A respectful silence fell heavily over the table.

“Now we’re all here, we’ve had some laughs, now we get to business, yes?” He gestured to Jesse and settled into his chair while a box was passed around the table. Each of them divesting themselves of their phones before the meeting started. Franco waited for his son to get back from locking the box away in the office before he started speaking to the group. “We all know why we’re here at this emergency meeting. When the Feds start looking at one of us their looking at us all.”

No one said anything but all their attention had gone to Aubrey. She was the reason they were having to close ranks and the weight of their judgement was resting heavily on her shoulders. Her fingers drummed on the table for a moment before she spoke.

“They’ve got nothing. Everything looks legit, runs legit, and is legit as far as the books go.” She ran her business carefully, making sure that she paid her taxes, and kept all the right paperwork to back herself up. The problem wasn’t how she managed the businesses she used as fronts for other lines of work. The problem was she’d gotten sloppy with something personal and that wedge was just enough opening to look deeper at her and anyone that did business with her. “But they do have pictures of me getting on to a boat that was later found on fire with its owner dead.”

“Jesus, kid…”

There were grumbles and a few headshakes but no one dared to confront her directly about it. One of her uncles leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. His deep voice was slow as he weighed all of his words carefully.

“This have anything to do with what you did to Nicky?”

Aubrey let her eyes reflect the cold empty place inside of her that felt nothing for the people she had to hurt. Guilt could eat you whole if you let it and she wasn’t going to feel guilty about other people making bad choices.

“Nicky was into bad shit that was going to get us all noticed. I did you a favor.”

“Nicky was a good earner! You took away nearly 25 percent of my bottom line when you had your little tantrum.”

Stacie was listening intently to every word and if she was surprised at any of it, she was careful not to let it show on her face. Aubrey’s fist tightened at the word tantrum and Stacie’s hand covered hers with a squeeze, letting her know she had something to say. Aubrey’s gaze flicked to her and she nodded for Stacie to speak her mind.

“The main benefit of having your pal Nicky around wasn’t the money he brought from the women he supplied to rich influential men. It was the leverage he bought with his knowledge of his client base. And while that leverage was a powerful tool it only got you to gate of the manor, it could never get you inside. You can only push the buttons you know about.”

Franco laced his fingers together and leaned back slightly in his chair. The sharpness of his gaze measuring Stacie with vivid intensity. “I’m listening.”

Stacie pressed on at his slight nod. “I was born into politics, you could pay off a dozen interns in twice as many offices and you’ll still never have as much control as you would if you knew their secrets, their agendas, their entire family history. I know what these people are and how they think because I am one of them.”

“And so that fixes the little problem Big Mike has with Nicky. You want bigger prey, get a better hunter. Bene. Now what do we do about these Feds?” Her uncle, the one that earned some of his money from Nicky, grunted and nodded still unhappy with the situation but unwilling to go against Franco once he’d made up his mind about something. As far as Nicky the pimp was concerned that was just a loose end that got tied up. “Who is running this investigation?”

Aubrey gave a soft huff. “Alice Esposito.”

Franco gave her a disappointed shake of his head and Aubrey felt her cheeks flame. “Her?”

She could feel the tremor of a laugh being tightly held in by Stacie and threw her hand up in frustration. “I know! She just showed up again like a bad penny.” Aubrey was acutely aware of the fact that it was her actions that had made Alice so hellbent on taking her down. “My guy says she’s running loose with this. But I don’t have my own source in the Bureau to confirm that.”

“Quincy, talk to our man in Virginia. I want to know everything on Esposito. Where she eats, who she talks to, who she sleeps with, when she last shit. EVERY SINGLE THING. I want to know who is pulling her strings and I want them cut. You understand me?”

Quincy gave a nod and Franco made a gesture of dismissal. “Everybody else you move quiet. No changes. It’s business as usual until we find out where we are. Now go, I have to think.”

It hadn’t gone great but it could have gone a lot worse. Aubrey let out a breath as she watched everyone file out of the dining room to retrieve their phones and leave. She turned to give her uncle a look but he jerked his chin at the door.

“You too. Go show your girl around…go shopping. Something huh?”

She gave a nod at that and bent to kiss him on the cheek before she led Stacie out too. They might not all agree with the way things had happened but at least they were all on board with the direction things were going to go from here on. If they could figure out where this attack was really coming from, they could resolve it before it became a threat to the Family business. If not…Aubrey was going to have to find a way to make Alice and her evidence disappear for good.

#staubrey #pitch perfect #the debt collector series #aubrey posen #stacie conrad

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straight-outta-kaer-morhen · 4 years

Text

Scars <Eskel Soulmate AU>

Request from AO3: "Could you so an Eskel/reader with a soulmate AU? Maybe where soulmates have the same scars. Pretty please?"

Sorry it took so long. This fic has been sitting finished for several months, but I couldn't decide if I liked it enough to post. I've never done a soulmate AU, so this was a fun challenge! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

As always, requests are open

Her claws wracked the side of his face. He'd been trying to avoid this meeting, but fate seemed to always have it's way. He was a fool for invoking the law of surprise all those years ago, and an even bigger fool for running from fate.

Looking up at the young girl, he had nothing in his heart but hate. The way she glowered at him he had no doubts she returned his sentiments.

• •• • A cry escaped her as flesh tore. Her hands shot out to grab her cheek. Blood ran freely down her jaw covering her neck. Horrified at the sight of crimson she helplessly tried to staunch the blood flow. The mage in front of her had his back pressed against the wall. Nothing but horror filled his eyes. This was not how the negotiations with Kaedwen were supposed to go. By the look on his face he hadn't attacked her, or cursed her. He fled the room as the pain seared across her cheek.

At some point she recalled being taken to a nurse for treatment, who was only able to bandage the wound, and send the sorceress on her way.

None of the healers could speed up the process of healing. The wound seemed to be healing on its own time. When it finally did heal, she was left with several jagged scars that even ran down her lips. When she looked in the mirror she was horrified by what she saw.

She seeked out Yennefer of Vengerberg’s powers. If anyone could heal the scars it was her. Very few were close to equal with Yennefer’s abilities.

"I cannot fix this." Yennefer declared, her eyes filling with pity. "This is the mark of a soulmate...and nothing can change fate."

"You were so beautiful." Kiera Metz's voice came softly. Y/N could not fathom the pity filled look she received. Her reflection showed several claw mark's adorned her face. They were raised and red.

Beauty wasn't everything she tried to tell herself, but she knew finding a lover would be impossible. Even her so-called soulmate would want nothing to do with her.

Yennefer gripped her shoulder, "beauty isn't everything."

• •• • "What happened to her?" Geralt inquired, his cat eyes falling on the familiar scars that adorned her face.

"It's a sad story." Triss sighed. "She used to have a beautiful face." Triss began, "the kind of face that makes king's launch wars over."

"Prettier than Yen?"

Triss nodded, "she had a softness, a warmth that Yennefer lacked. It drove men absolutely mad." She mused. "One day during negotiations, her face just tore open. It was the damndest thing."

"When?" Geralt inquired, observing the (h/c).

Triss tapped her chin recounting the years, "it had to have been about 20 years ago...give or take a few years."

"Hmmm." Geralt said, catching the woman's (e/c) eyes. She offered him a soft smile from across the room. He gave her a nod, his eyes tracing the scars that lined her lip. They were uncanny to Eskel's.

"No mage or sorceress could heal her." Triss added. "Apparently soulmate scars work differently, it's a power we know little of."

"Soulmate scars? I thought that was an old wives tale." Geralt asked, startled.

"So did I, but the circumstances of how she acquired them...well there is no other explanation for it." She said with a shrug as she took a sip of wine. "I spoke with the mage that witnessed it. His account was hard to discredit."

"The amount of scars a Witcher acquires, well it's hard to put much stock in the idea." Geralt said, taking another drink of his ale.

Triss waved the woman over, "whatever man acquired those, it must have been hell for him from what Y/N described."

"Y/N, this is Geralt." Triss introduced, "he's taken an interest in your scars." She said leaving the two to get acquainted

Her hand immediately shot up to her face covering the scars. "Forgive me for prying," Geralt began, "I have a friend who has similar scars."

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "is he a Witcher too?"

Geralt nodded, "sounds like he got those scars around the time you did."

"That would explain the pain…" Y/N mumbled, sitting at the table. "I'm very sorry for your friend, I know how he feels." She began a small frown pulling at her face. "No matter how kind you are, people tend to avoid things they can't explain."

"Well, I have reason to believe he may be the answer to those scars."

She shook her head, "even so he wouldn't want to see me." (E/c) eyes flickered up at his feline gaze. "I know exactly how I look Geralt. Kings stopped requesting my presence as soon as they saw my face, the lodge will not send me out diplomatically in case another scar decides to show up." Her jaw was set, "I'm quite positive your Witcher friend would not care to see me."

Geralt nodded, "if you change your mind let me know."

• •• •

Winters were perfect for catching up with his brother in arms. Geralt had debated keeping the scarred woman's existence a secret, but ultimately he decided that it was Eskel who should decide.

He broke the news a few weeks into their stay. He'd made sure Vesemir was in the room. If anyone would have more knowledge on the subjects of soulmates it would be the old Witcher.

"I met a sorceress this past fall." Geralt began, soliciting a scoff from Vesemir.

"Did you bed her too?" The grey haired man asked. Soliciting a soft smile from Eskel as he turned the page of his book.

"No, but she had some interesting scars." Geralt commented.

Eskel's eyes shot up, his hand automatically scratching at the scars that lined his lips. "A sorceress who chose not to have them healed? That's unheard of. They tend to be a vain bunch." Vesemir said thoughtfully.

"They tried, but scars involving soulmates is another thing." Geralt peaked up at Eskel to gage his reaction. The Witcher had stiffened, listening intently.

"Soulmates," Vesemir mused. "That is a very rare phenomenon. I can't say I've ever heard of two soulmates actually finding each other."

"Hmm, I saw the scars with my own eyes. Three claw marks on the side of the jaw." Eskel dropped his book.

"Appeared out of nowhere about twenty years ago." Geralt added. "If I hadn't been mistaken by the pair of tits I would have thought it was Eskel."

Eskel's cleared his throat, "it's a coincidence."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Perhaps it's fate forcing you to make things right?" Vesemir in his infinite wisdom had a point. Much to Eskel's dismay.

"If it's fate we'll run into each other." Eskel dismissed.

"Eskel, you can't outrun fate." Vesemir began, "look what happened to you last time."

Geralt sighed, "I didn't tell you this to feel trapped by fate. I thought you had a right to know, I also think you have a right to tell destiny to fuck off if you want."

Eskel seemed to relax a bit, "was she attractive?"

Geralt nodded, "scars and all. Triss says she was once prettier than Yen." He hesitated, "there is something else you should know…"

Eskel leaned forward curiosity getting the better of him.

"She doesn't think you'd wish to see her."

A frown pulled at the dark haired Witcher's lips. He knew all too well what it was like to carry those scars.

Eskel had once been considered a handsome man. He'd never had a hard time finding a lover, and people used to be friendlier. After he acquired the scars, brothels were the only place he could find pleasure, the contracts he took the people looked on him as if he were a feral beast.

"Go talk to her." Lambert's voice echoed through the hall.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Vesemir asked, turning to the youngest Witcher.

"Ah, can it old man." Lambert said, waving him off. "You're always saying you want a lover. If she really is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down."

That was just like Lambert, to throw his opinion out there regardless if it was welcome or not. "I thought you opposed Geralt bringing visitors to Kaer Morhen. You really want me to bring someone too?"

"If it’ll get you laid, I’m willing to take one for the team."

Vesemir rubbed his temples, no one could get on his nerves like the younger Witcher. Bold and brash, Lambert had a tendency to speak without thinking things through. It seemed the mutations could not quell the passion for living that burned inside.

“You have time. Destiny can wait.” Geralt said downing the rest of his ale. “Think on it.” He said, patting Eskel’s shoulder before heading upstairs for the evening.

Vesemir and Lambert were quick to follow, leaving Eskel alone with his thoughts. He turned to the many shelves that lined the wall. The bookshelves had been moved years ago when the library had decayed enough that Vesemir didn't trust it to house his precious tomes. If anyone were to have a book on the subject of soulmates, it would be the old man.

The book was thin and covered in years of dust. Eskel brushed the cover off. The letters had worn off, but the faint engraving of the title could be seen, Love Potions, Relationships, and Soul Mates. Eskel flipped to the title page, how to tell if they're the one, potions to make them fall in love, and tips turning that crush into love.

A small chuckle escaped Eskel's lips. He wondered when the old Witcher had picked this up, and who he was trying to woo. The table of contents indicated the chapter on soulmates started on page 69.

"Soulmates were fated by the gods. The oldest known magic, but very little have studied it. Soulmates could be confirmed by matching scars. It has been speculated that when one soul receives the mark their kindred soul receives it as well.

It is unknown why the other soul experiences the same wound, and pain. Some scholars assume it is to bound the two souls in a mutual understanding.

Soulmate bonds used to be very common, but the emergence of alchemy, and sorcery has made the magic almost extinct.

Soulmate bonds typically occur during strange phenomenons such as blood moons, eclipses, solstices, etc.

There have been instances where soulmates have argued that they were fated to meet.”

Eskel flipped the page, but the next chapter was regarding a love potion. He took care placing the book back on the shelf.

He let his mind wander as he trudged up the stairs to his room. Having someone to hold on nights like this wouldn't be unwelcome.

The room was silent, the fire had turned to embers. He threw another log on coaxing it back to life with Igni. The only thing in the room that indicated someone lived in it were stacks of books, and his weapons laid on a long, narrow table.

He toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the low bed. He wanted to laugh at Geralt for suggesting such an idea. He wanted to tell Vesemir that destiny could go to hell. He wanted Lambert to realize that no one would ever want him, but most of all he wanted it to be true.

Of course he wanted someone to love him, but how the hell could he accept a love like that? If he couldn't love the scars on his face how could he expect someone else to? The questions raised in his mind, but Lambert's voice rang in the back of his mind if she is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down. Perhaps that was the ember that sparked hope in his heart.

• •• •

The lodge trusted her with an alchemy shop. It seemed even she couldn't fuck that up. The once brilliant negotiator was now grinding, mixing and drying herbs. The shop bell jingled indicating a customer. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time."

She dried her hands on her apron, as she turned to face the deep voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. The scars that lined his lips were identical to hers.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault." He began as her hand shot up to cover the scars.

"I told Geralt you wouldn't want to see me." She said turning away from the dark haired Witcher.

He was quick to reach out to her, "no you're beautiful...no beautiful isn't the right word..it's not enough to describe you." Eskel breathed taking in her soft (e/c) eyes. "A choice I made hurt you." Eskel's voice was thick with shame, "and you've had to live with that."

She took him in, and her fingers traced the scars that lined his face. "Perhaps it's not all bad."

Eskel's heart fluttered at the prospect. She had yet to turn him away, and he dared to let his heart hope.

"These scars led me to you."

#eskel the witcher #eskel #eskel oneshot #eskel the witcher x reader #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #eskel the witcher x y/n #eskel the witcher oneshot #the witcher oneshot #the witcher 3

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fanfiction-funtime · 3 years

Text

Spritefather and Selene Interaction

A fan drabble for @clouds-rambles, I hope I characterized Selene right

Without much prompting it's a tad hard to write like this, but I hope it works.

Also I hope you don't mind me mentioning Cael amnesia anon.

(Selene was hanging out with Cael when Venti makes trouble, bringing the night to a close)

(Selene pov)

Yet again, I had to drag Cael's boyfriend out of the bar. This time because he thought someone was insulting his father and punched them, but he was just talking about some mythological person called 'Spritefather'.

I haven't thought about that story in a long time, not since I was a kid. Something about him being able to "use all elements" or something and how he "taught Barbados about freedom", maybe I'll ask Lisa about it.

"Excuse me madam, my father needs to speak to that man you're carrying. Please, hand him to me." I heard a voice from behind me say, the accent was a thick Schneznayan one.

I turned around to meet the person, a woman in an outfit that wouldn't look out of place in a family portrait of old Schneznayan nobility, they also held a vision.

A cryo vision.

I three Venti into a hay pile and summoned my spear, "your a pretty bad liar, LA SIGNORA!"

"No wait! You've got it all w-" I jabbed at her with my spear, using conduct to increase it's power, "I said wait!-"

"I don't bargain with people who hurt my friends!" Hehe, that was a cool line, nice one Selene.

"W-WHAT!? HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT I WOULD HURT MY OWN BROTHER!" The woman gasped and pointed behind me.

I looked back and saw an abyss mage sneaking away with Venti.

"HEY! THAT'S MY BROTHER/BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND!"

The mage noticed and bolted away. We chased it all the way to star conch cliff, where it threw Venti over the edge.

"Haha! Do your worst human! I have already completed my mission! Now without your precious archon, mondstadt will-!"

A tornado of water sprouted up from the sea, then froze in place. From the newly formed spiral of ice rose a cloaked man, and around him were 6 wisps of every element but cryo.

The mage turned around, and were it not for the dendro tendril crushing it's windpipe they would have screamed in horror.

"First you threaten to kill my son," the cloaked man stepped off the spire, the air polarizing itself with electro to form a step, "then you kidnap him while my daughter is trying to retrieve him," another step, this time the air simply pushes him up to form a step, "and now you have followed through on that threat. It tried to," the man took one last, powerful step, to which a geo platform met his feet and lifted him to the hanging abyss mage, "how truly foolish must you be."

He man then lit the tendril on fire, burning the mage like a furby in a campfire.

The man lowered himself down, Venti in his arms, and said, "I'm sorry Barbados, I should have gone to get you myself. Viktoria, what happened?"

Then he noticed me.

"EEEEP!" He shouted as he dropped Venti with a thud.

_____________________

(3rd person limited, Spritefather pov)

'Oh celestia, a person! No no, keep it together. You love interacting with humans in a controlled manner. This is just as controlled, just...a suprise.' Spritefather thought.

"By Barbados' hairy nostrils! You're the Spritefather!" The human Selene shouted.

Spritefather straightened himself out and cleared his throat, "y-yes, I am. But I am not 'the' Spritefather, I'm just Spritefather. Saying 'the Spritefather' is like calling you 'the Selene'. But now isn't the time for such trivial bickerings," Spritefather gave a gentlemanly bow, "thank you for attempting to rescue my eldest child, and for taking him home everytime he indulges a bit to much on vices."

Viktoria facepalmed, "dad! They aren't supposed to know that!"

"Well why not? They're friends with him, and best friends with his boyfriend. Which by the way I STILL need to meet-" he noticed Selene was seeming kind if pale, "you ok?"

*thud*

"Oh dear."

_____________________

(3rd person omniscient pov)

(There's no good point to explain this, but they're in a serenitea pot)

Selene woke up in a very confused state, and on a cloaked woman's lap.

"Please do not be alarmed, neither me nor my daughter did anything to you." The woman said.

Selene, in response, punched the woman and scrambled away, "who the abyss are you!?"

"Well I'm not particularly loved by celestia but I'd hardly say I'm abyssal.."

"Father, people here are not as accustomed to the divine as Liyue or Inazuma." The woman from before, who Selene thought was La Signora, said as she approached them with some tea.

"Wait, fa-no, no. Don't do that Selene, it's rude."

The cloaked woman shook her hands to dismiss Selene's concern, "it's fine, however I thank you for your accepting nature. Though it is to be excepted given your personal identity."

"How do you know me?"

"Heh, have you forgotten already? Though I suppose the change in form is not common among you humans. And nonexistent in the way me and the wisps can do."

The woman got up and started twirling, then surrounded themself in elemental power, and when it cleared stood the cloaked man Selene saw in her dream...

*wait*

"That wasn't a dream...holy shit that wasn't a dream! You're the Spritefather-I mean-you're Spritefather! Your real!"

"Indeed I am. I would think everyone in mondstadt believes I'm real, but atleast that leaves less for that misconception."

"What misconception?"

"Ask Barbados, shouldn't be too hard since you two are close."

"Barba-wait Venti is actually Barbados!?

"Oh dear I'm making this worse."

The still unnamed woman sighed and shook her head, "how about we focus on why my dad decided to be a woman? Surely that would be a far more easy thing to understand."

"It's because she likes women, and I don't blame her. World cold and hard, titty warm and soft."

"Dad who taught you that!?"

"You do realize I can hear the lives of all in my home yes?"

"I guess I'm at fault." Selene laughed.

"I will have my revenge upon you for this." The woman responded.

Spritefather chuckled, "oh? And how about you get your revenge over a date. Anastasia."

"F-FATHER!"

"What? She's single, friends to someone who can teach her proper tea ceremonies, and uh....they have....hmmm..." Spritefather was trying to think if what he could say to convince his daughter, "look I just want to see grand kids!"

"FATHER"

"K-KIDS!?"

"Look I'm pushing fifty million! If one of you doesn't get me kids in the next ten million years I'm going to grow grey hair!"

Anastasia starts forming an ice throwing knife, "REBEL'S-"

"Papa, what happen?" Came a childish voice.

Selene gasped, they were looking at probably the cutest thing EVER!

"Oh my ARCHONS! IS THAT A PYROSPRITE!?"

"Yes that's my child Flameo-"

Selene, already having picked up the the baby, "they're so CUTE!"

They hugged the little flame close to their face and nuzzled them, to which Flameo quickly responded to with their own.

"Smell like..." they thought for a moment, "big Bro Bardos!" They flew around Selene excitedly, "friend!"

Spritefather sighed, "Oh dear, now the rest will be coming out. And I just got them to sleep aswell."

It wasn't long before Selene was surrounded by six Sprites.

The Electrosprite landed on her vision and started vibrating happily.

The Geosprite asked, "are you strong!? I think I could be you!"

"Oh I'm sure you could." Selene said to appease the little Sprite as she chuckled chuckled.

The Anemosprite and Pyrosprite flew around her head like children.

The Hydrosprite was inspecting her clothes, "how utterly bourgeois, has my Brother and father been teaching you how to dress? Honestly, the people of mondstadt should learn from the reconnaissance captain of the knights. Now there's a woman who knows how to dress."

"Oh you mean Eula?"

"You know her?"

"Oh yeah, she's invites me to tea every now and then."

"SHE...invites....YOU...out for TEA!?-"

Anastasia puts her hand over the Hydrosprite and tries to hold her back

"Sorry about that," the woman replied, "kids and their crushes."

(Agua, muffled: I'M SIXTEENTH HUNDRED YEARS OLD!)

"Ha-haaa...."

Selene couldn't respond to that as they felt a prick in her spine, causing them to yelp.

A Dendrodsprite slinkied up her back and put it's head on her shoulder, "just sampling...never seen blood like yours...so intertwined with the...divine....yet so distan-"

Spritefather picked up his child, "please forgive Leafy, they're in their...adventurous stage. And their adventure is to learn things. Often things that involve pins and needles."

This was going to be a looong night

_____________________

The next day, Vanessa's tree

Selene yawns and falls on the statue, Venti doing the same. The difference between them is one is hungover and waiting for his boyfriend to take him home after the fifth assassination attempt this week, the other has to deal with the consequences of being loved by children and being there to try and stop the most recent assassination

"Holy shit....this hang over....I thought Decrabain's hailstorms were bad..."

"You shouldn't try watching after Leafy.....but I think half the pains are from Agua's jealousy bites......"

"You think that's bad?.....you should have seen them when they realized Cael and I....were dating....."

"...archons I hope I was never like that as a kid...."

"Oh cherry up you two!" Spritefather said, a bit too loud for the two, "it's a new day and-"

Venti hit his father with a clump of grass using anemo

"YOUNG MAN!-

"Ohheythere'sCaelgottagobye!" The archon said as he ran off.

Spritefather sighed, "he's always like that, running from responsibilities. But he always means up when it counts, so I can only say I'm proud of the man he's become," he thought for a moment, "except for when he turns into a woman for whatever reason, then I'm proud of the woman she's become...you know, after being around single form life for so long stuff like that feels so strange. I mean you humans are born with one form and cant naturally change it. But if you feel it's wrong you'll go through so much trouble just to get close to what us shape changers can get. While to humans it is inspiring purely because of the person's determination to take the form they so deserve, that they were truly meant to have. But for me it's so much more! The human spirit and will is oh so inspiring, but the amount humans go through! So much money, so much time, and in many places simply enduring life! Why even I couldn't get the...uh...transphobia is it?...out of Inazuma!Terribly sorry human language changes so much. Oh and on language! To think that I was there when the first cave man was trying to mimic the grunts of the gods, only to make something so much superior to them to the point that the gods copied THEM! And speaking of copies have you ever heard of the time Dainsleif-" he paused as he saw Selene's bored face, "sorry. One little thing and I start ranting and rave...no, it's info dumping. And I should thank you humans for making that term, and all the other wonder words you've made, and the medical advances. They've helped me understand myself....ah but look at me, rambling on again. You know what? For entertaining my kids the whole night, and listening to an old man's ramblings, I'll give you a boon. Anything you want, if I can get it you shall have it."

Selene thought for a moment. She thought about asking him to bring back her father, but they knew he couldn't raise the dead. She even thought...of her mother, to see her again, but they knew that it wouldn't help. A selfish part of her even wanted someway to reignite her's and Rosaria's relationship, after all that part of her life was, but she knew it would be wrong and that they both agree they just didn't work.

Perhaps just ask for mora? She did need some for a good night's rest, but that felt wasteful. What was one night's rest for what could be a lifetime of amazing power. But maybe it would be wrong to ask for something like power. Ah! She's got it!

"How about a spear? A really powerful one that compliments my powers perfectly! Oh! And make it look really cool!"

Spritefather blinked, then laughed, "well, that's rather simple isn't it? So amazing you humans. You expect them to make something big and/or selfish, like taking control of a country, or killing someone. Yet never once has one of my boons been used for anything bad. Even when they're selfish. Like one time I met a very selfish person who I granted a boon, and all he did with it was ask me to make sure the kids of Inazuma were never hungry. Ah, now that. That was ranting, sorry." Spritefather walked over to the statue's base and knocked three times, "hello Vanessa. It's been a while since I last called you, but I was hoping you could give me a hand? And perhaps a very sturdy branch off your tree?"

"Uhhh-"

A light shown down from the heavens and the ground shook, causing a skeletal hand to rise from the depths.

Selene would have screeched if she weren't so tired, "I'd prefer my weapon to be less...body part-sy."

"Nonsense! Everyone knows that bones make the best weapons! You know why it's called a prototype rancor?! BECAUSE NOONE WANTS TO ACCEPT THAT THE PERFECTED VERSION I, THE INVENTOR, MADE INCLUDES THE SHINBONES OF MITSCHURLS! YOU EVER SEEN A-*ahem*-sorry, rambling."

As he was ranting, a branch handed Spritefather a sturdy branch from the tree.

"Perfect, now a bit of magic and-" the two items blew up in Spritefather's face before reforming into a purple and black spear that ended in a feathery sleeve like pattern that was attached to a sharp blade that looked very much like a hand made into a spear blade. Mainly because it was.

A brilliant light shone down on the Spritefather as he floated up and presented the spear to Selene(mumbled: thanks Venessa)

"SELENE OF MONDSTADT!"

His voice became that of s god's, filled with power and compassion, booming across windrise.

"YOU HAVE SPOKEN YOUR WISH, AND BY MY HONOR AS THE ENTERNAL FATHER, I AM DUTY BOUND TO GRANT IT!"

He leans imup to Selene and whispered to her, "do you like the eternal father moniker? I thought it up myself."

"Oh yeah, 10/10, really keeping with the Inazuman background."

"Thanks."

"TAKE YOUR GRAND BLADE, AND GO FORTH TO CARVE THROWS DESTINY AND TILL YOUR OWN FUTURE!"

Selene took the spear, "uh...thanks?"

"Oh your very welcome. By the way how was that delivery? I've been working on the whole 'I am a powerful being' delivery for a few centuries."

"A bit hard to understand, but overall gets the vibe across. Maybe 8/10? Low seven probably."

"Yeah, I kind of expected that. Wonder how else I could get that effect, you know without the whole can't understand thing."

"Well, I've got teo other immortals to meet. Ones I need to question."

"Ah yes, I'm sure Cael and Barbados have much to answer for to you."

"Yes they do. I don't suppose 'see you around' would be appropriate here?"

"On a sense? It's appropriate. After all I'm your friend now aswell, and I prefer a life without isolation. So...see you round?"

"Sure, see you around."

_____________________

Admittedly didn't know how to end this. I like it but I'm a tad worried I made it to focused on my character and didn't give Selene enough attention.

Regardless I hope you enjoyed it cloud! I really tried to get Selene right. And sorry it took so long, sleep kept getting messed up, and then covid shot+forgetting to hydrate kicked my ass.

(Tagging: @storytravelled, @golden-wingseos, and @clouds-rambles)

#genshin #genshin impact #Spritefather #genshin oc #venti #genshin fanfic #genshin fan character

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