#remember when I said it was fine without my graphics card? it is not fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celtic-crossbow · 1 month

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was.

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it.

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected.

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out.

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control.

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored.

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl.

“How’re the patients?”

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.”

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s.

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative.

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist.

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state.

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet.

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition.

“D’I hurt—”

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot.

“Hey, kid. Go…easy on…your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room.

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand.

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him.

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like.

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly.

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment.

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope.

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.”

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?”

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.”

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt?

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do? “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.”

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access.

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.”

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl.

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept.

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused.

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take.

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control.

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.”

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided.

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under.

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.”

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.”

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl angst #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #sick!daryl dixon

242 notes · View notes

yelenasdiary · 2 years

Note

I have a Lizzie flufftober idea!! Reader is getting stressed out and on the verge of a breakdown because of school work and exams so Lizzie (or any of her characters) helps you calm down and maybe even helps you study.

A Helping Hand || Flufftober

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: When your study gets too much and the stress causes a breakdown, Lizzie just wants comfort you and give you a hand in your studies.

Fluff | 0.9K | Language Warning because Lizzie swearing is, you already know |

AC: Legal age gap of course! I’m currently doing a graphic design course and have like 6 overdue assignments so this will 10/10 most likely will come from my own stresses lmao! I haven’t picked any course for this so if you’re struggling with anything, I hope this helps. Enjoy!

Flufftober Masterlist

"Fucks sake!" You groan as you run your temples as you try to make any sense of the textbook in front of you. "This is bullshit!" You added in a huff. Lizzie who was in the living room could hear your frustration building and knew it was only a matter of time before you'd storm out of the study with anger trying to avoid the breakdown that was just waiting for the cherry to top it off.

"Honey, come outside with me for a few minutes, it's beautiful outside" Lizzie stood in the doorway of the study watching as you dotted notes down on your laptop. "Liz, I can't. I have so much to do before my final exam, I'm sorry. Once this is over, I'll make it up to you" you replied without looking up from your laptop, typing as you spoke.

"Baby, I don't care. I can hear how stressed you are from the living room. You need a break and 15 minutes isn't going to hurt" you felt her hands land gently on your shoulders squeezing them softly to release some build up tension. You couldn't help but close your eyes and sigh with relief at the way her hands worked to give you a massage. "10 minutes" you suggested as you spun around on your chair to face her, "15 because you need to eat as well" she smiled softly.

You watched with an ice-cold glass of water in your hand as Lizzie watered her garden, she was right, a few minutes away from your studies and you already started to feel a bit better. "When's your final exam?" She asked as she made sure each of her plants were getting enough water. "Next week, I have so much stuff to remember it's ridiculous. I'm going to fail; I just know it" you sipped your water. "Don't say that honey, I'll help you. We can remember the information together and you'll pass, and I'll be even more proud of you than I am right now" she smiled before turning off the tap.

"You don't have to baby, I'm just stressed over it all, but I know once it's done and dusted, I'll be fine"

"I want to help, plus, how hard can it be?"

You chuckled at her reply, "well if you insist but I do warn you, it's hard"

"Baby, I played the scarlet witch, an axe murder, and a grieving widow. I'm sure some study for an exam will be fine" she wrapped her arms around your waist and kissed you softly, "you really like playing that card, don't you" you smiled against her lips. "You bet" Lizzie kissed you once more, "now let's make you an afternoon snack and get to studying" she added before taking your hand in hers and walking you both to the kitchen. "Do we still have some strawberries left over? I could settle for a bowl of watermelon and strawberries" you placed your now empty glass on the countertop. "We do! I picked fresh ones this morning, take a seat and let me get it all for you" Lizzie smiled as she opened the fridge.

After making you both a large bowl to share, you moved all your study work to the dining room table for extra space. Lizzie looked over your notes and flicked through one of your textbooks before having a quick run over the exam outlines. "Fuck me, I now understand why you've been so stressed" she mumbled with a confused frown. You chuckled at her comment, "I told you; you didn't have to help. It's a lot!"

"I said I'd help; we might be here for a while, but I want to help you honey" she looked up at you with the softest smile. "You really are the best, thank you" you smiled back.

For the next few hours Lizzie read from the textbook as you took notes and made a little 'cheat sheet' as it was allowed, a few more curses here and there and some huffs and sighs but eventually the two of you started to see the pile of study dying down smaller and smaller. Lizzie stopped every hour for a 15-minute break to keep you both from losing your minds and made sure there was iced tea and water beside you both to keep you both refreshed.

"You're going to pass these exams otherwise I'll be talking to your teacher about how fucking ridiculous this is!" Lizzie chuckled as the two of you continued to work through your studies. "I think they'd be so starstruck that you're in their classroom to even argue!" You smiled, "thank you again for helping me! This is so helpful" you added. "If you ever end up going any more study after this, I'm just going to take the class with you!"

The day of your exam Lizzie waited in the car for you with all your favorite snacks and plenty of water for when you'd finish. She gave you the tightest hug and a kiss on the lips for good luck and you didn't feel as stressed as you once were. Lizzie's encouragement ran through your head the entire test and you left feeling confident that you'd pass.

"How'd you go?!" Lizzie asked as you got into the car, "I'll find out the results next week" You smiled nervously before noticing all your favorite snacks in the recyclable bag, "god! I'm so nervous! But I know you've got this baby!! You're so smart" she kissed you softly, "I love you Lizzie" you smiled against her lips. "I love you too, honey" she smiled before kissing you once more.

#Elizabeth Olsen #Elizabeth Olsen x reader #fanfiction #flufftober

207 notes · View notes

fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 11 months

Text

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 140- Vengeance

Summary: Josie dreams of the past that holds a message. Stephane and Jo have another talk. A birthday party is planned. Josie experiences a new power. She and Charles search for something. Another side of Garrett is seen. A secret is kept. A surprise is in the works. An ultimatum is given. A visitor comes bearing bad news.

*Warnings* language, angst, death mentions, death, violence, graphic depictions, blood

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Your dreams took you back in time as you saw yourself at Sarah's house, your best friend in your teen years and the one you saw Harker kill when Jareth had showed you the memory of it.

It was a typical weekend afternoon of tarot cards and witchy stuff that she was into and it also happened to be Halloween, the night she went missing and the day you unknowingly met Jareth the goblin King for the first time. Back then, you didn't believe in all that voodoo stuff so much, although you remembered how your mother did. Sarah though, was all about it, a witch herself and you didn't realize the truth of it all until almost seven years after her death.

For some fun and a break from taking care of your sick dad, you would go to her place to let loose since it was right next door. The night would consist of pizza, sneaking booze from her mom's pantry since she worked in the evening, and cranking up the music while Sarah filled the room with candles and would give you readings. As skeptical as you always were about it, strangely they always became relevant to your life at some point, but you would just chalk it up to be a coincidence.

As she laid the cards out one, she placed the last one in front of you. The high priestess that held the letters B and J on it.

"Sooo, what does that mean?" you asked with an arched brow.

"The high priestess is a card of mystery, stillness and passivity. You need to reflect upon your situation and trust your instincts to guide you though what is to come. Things around you are not what they appear to be." Sarah explained, but then she just stared at the card with a head tilt.

"What things? My instincts tell me my life is exactly what it looks like...all fucked up."

"No...something is....amiss...now and into the future. I've drawn this card for you before, but it never spoke to me util now."

"Sarah, my dad is terminally ill with only a few years to live if he's lucky. That's what's amiss and that is the future."

"Jo, no...you're taking things literally, which sometimes the cards can be but sometimes they have deeper meanings, metaphoric even. I know you don't believe this stuff, but I'm telling you there's something huge about your life and your future. You see this?" she said and pointed to the lady on the card.

"Uh yeah...it looks like a queen or something. Oh my god Sarah?? Am I going to become the Queen of England??" you jested and laughed.

"No!" she scoffed. "But...you will be of some great importance. Something magical and powerful. The half moon at her feet tells me that. I know you never believe me, but I feel it in you. The witchy vibe. I mean come on, why do you think you and I connected so well. I believe you're a true witch who just don't know it yet."

"Yeah umm we connected so well because you live right next door." you chuckled. "I can't even make toast without burning it. I am far from a powerful witch."

"Jo, seriously. You even said your mom was into this stuff....and christ, look how your dad dresses and speaks, like he's from another century or something."

"She was, but I never saw her twinkle her nose and make things happen or ride a broom stick, or lure little children into her house like Hansel and Gretel. My dad, he's just old fashioned. Are you saying he's a witch too??"

"There are male witches you know. They're called warlocks and can you be serious for once? That's not what witches are all about. That's all fairytales. This is real."

"It's all hocus pocus if you ask me, pun intended but ok fine...so I am going to be some witch queen is what you're saying? Who's my King? He better be hot! And what do the letters mean?"

"Well...I definitely feel the J resembles you but...."

She stopped and cocked her head again as she ran her finger over the B.

"But???"

"A...counterpart to you...soul mate of some sort maybe? I keep seeing the word....missing....and...child....a baby maybe??"

You hysterically laughed. "The B stands for baby? I certainly know I am not pregnant...oh god!! Wait! Am I going to have a baby with my future King??? If anyone is missing, it is him! Maybe his name starts with a B! Oh my fucking god, it Bon Jovi!! That's what the B and J stand for!"

"Stop it! It's not that! It's someone you will meet. They will have the answers you seek."

"I'm not seeking anything right now except to get drunk after my encounter with that creepy guy on my way here. Like, he knew my freaking name so I umm, kinda told him my name was Sarah."

"Oh great, now we have some weirdo stalking around here infatuated with the many looks of David Bowie that knows BOTH of our names now and he probably saw you come here because I saw him from the window when you were walking over, and he saw me too. Talk about going all out for a Halloween costume and I didn't like his eyes."

"Calm down, he's probably just some senior from school out trying to score free candy like they did in Hocus Pocus, which is why he knew my name."

"Yeah well, he wasn't carrying a trick or treat bag and he looked way older than that. Def a witch vibe on him too. Probably into some cult shit and will sacrifice me tonight. Speaking of weirdos, tonight for dinner, you will meet the dude my mom is fucking, some Phillip guy. He's def creepy. I get nothing but bad vibes from him, like the hair on the back of my neck stands up when he's around. Witches sense those things."

"Ok miss superstitious, you are not going to be burned at the stake tonight or sacrificed on some stone slab in the middle of the forest. I have an idea. Since you seem to think I am a witch, we should look for our third and fourth to complete the circle, like that movie the Craft. You can teach me how to change my hair color to blonde like that girl did, what was her name...oh that's right, it was SARAH.." you joked some more.

"Fine, mock this all you want. Even the song playing right now is a message. These things don't just randomly happen."

youtube

"So when all of this happens, always remember this day and always remember, things are not always as they seem...remember Jo...remember....remember....remember....he's alive...."

Her words reverberated and echoed as your eyes sprung open.

"Sarah??" you gasped as you sat up. "God, what the hell was that?" you asked yourself out loud.

You realized it was late afternoon and that you had been asleep on Lola's sofa since you had come back from seeing Garrett. You hoped he wasn't upset with you for making him leave but you weren't sure what Narcisse and Haldir were going to do after seeing you locking lips with the vampire. Although Garrett was under Amara's protection mark, you didn't know how far that protection went and didn't want to test the waters to find out. You also knew Garrett could hold his own against them or anyone for that matter, but you didn't want to see any of them get hurt.

You sat with Leean, feeding her and as you did so, you began to recall the song Sarah mentioned, so you softly sang it to her, for she was a witch too and already coming into her powers at the mere age of 5 weeks old.

"I walk in worlds that no one can come by. I seek the trees and whispering stones. I dance at night and sing to the firelight to wake the witch who lives within me. I run with wolves and howl at the pale moon. I conjure storms that no man can tame. I love with fire so red it consumes you to wake the witch who lives within me. Music charms me like a spell. Voices fill me with tales to tell. All the women burned before are burning in my soul. All my darkness, all my fears fall away when their ghosts are near. Chanting, dancing, calling me to wake the witch in me. I sought the trees to flee all who hurt me. I whispered spells to endure their stones. I hid in dreams so no one could find me to veil the witch who lives within me. And now I fly at night like a raven. I dance with ghouls and devils till dawn. And in the forest, I’ve found my haven to wake the witch who lives within me."

Leean's big round moonstone eyes danced through yours as she listened to your voice. Little coos came from her daddy's shaped lips as she suckled and lightly kicked her feet.

Just then, a knock sounded upon the door. You already knew who it was, for your intuition told you and...you could smell the peppermint seeping under the door.

"Jo...may I come in?" Narcisse softly asked.

You covered yourself and carried Leean with you to the door, fretting that you were about to get an earful over the kiss of the vampire, but strangely, it was the exact opposite.

As you reluctantly opened, there the warlock stood and his typical grin with his hands resting at his midriff as his fingers fidgeted with his ring like always and there at his feet sat his loyal companion Merlin staring up at you.

"Well there's the two most beautiful girls in the world....and one of them has a most angelic voice from what I just heard, wouldn't you agree Merly?" he said in a baby tone as he tickled Leean's cheek. Of course, she cutely responded with an all out Thranduil smirk, making your heart shatter and ache for your King.

You turned and went to lay her down as Narcisse followed with his faithful feline right at his heels, who then jumped on the sofa making himself right at home as he laid down and yawned.

You gave the Maine Coon some quick chin scratches and then went over by the window and sat down.

"Well...let me have it about Garrett, I mean, that is why you are here, is it not?"

He smiled his arrogant smile and sat down beside you."

"No, actually I am not here about that, although I must say, I don't know what you see in him, the vampire is so boring."

You rolled your eyes as he continued.

"I came to tell you that I have retrieved your belongings."

He pulled out the spell book from within his jacket, along with the record and the dreamcatcher, then laid them beside you.

"The book was found in Claude's room and beside it laid a doll made with hay from the stables, smelling of my horse."

"Oh...gosh. Stephane, I am so sorry. It's all my fault, if I hadn't been in possession of the book, that never would have happened."

"Nonsense. The only fault here lies upon Catherine for her dastardly deeds and possibly her daughter too, which she will soon be questioned after she recovers from giving birth. Claude's diary was found as well and I have a pretty good feeling the answers are in there. I will read over it soon...but if you will notice the bookmarked page in your book. I think that explains the spell on Garrett."

After giving a concerning look, you quickly opened it to see the page stained with a yellow tint. You then looked at him in confusion.

"It's warlock blood, but still man's blood to a vampire and in this case, dead man's blood. Asher's. I can smell it. Somehow Catherine got her hands on it after his death. I have reason to believe she used Claude to place the spell. With that said, it is the same as if Garrett would have drank it himself."

"Jesus, what is it with this bitch and poison?"

"Because that's what Catherine is. Poison. Now...if you'll turn to the back, you'll find another item you were looking for...."

You flipped it to the back to find the letter you wrote to Thranduil.

"Thank you Stephane, for all of this. I will do better at keeping this book out of the wrong hands. I'm glad to have my dreamcatcher back as well."

Narcisse noticed your despaired expression when you mentioned the moonstone sleep aid.

"Jo? What is it?" he asked as he gently laid his hand upon yours.

'"It's...I don't know really. I had fallen asleep earlier and had this strange dream of...well actually it was a memory my friend Sarah who Harker killed. Honestly, I don't want to talk about it. It's my fault she is dead. I should have never left her that night, but I had to get home to my dad. The really fucked up thing is that she had cracked a joke that evening about something happening to her and of course I basically told her that she would be fine."

"You don't have to talk about it. I will say, I am sorry about your friend. She obviously meant a lot to you. And again, it is not your fault...it is Harker's."

"If only I had believed her about her witch sense and all. She figured out who he was that night and that is why he killed her. All the years I knew her, she was a witch just like me, but I didn't know I was and I made fun of her for believing she was. What a shitty friend I was."

"Jo...please don't be so hard on yourself. You were so young still and had no idea who you were. I wish I would have been around more for your dad, maybe I could have done something, or figured out what was going on. If only I had known he was sick."

"Stephane, you obviously had your hands full with Catherine and the situation with Charles. It's no more your fault than mine. You're right. It was Harker's and even my mother's. Jareth too. You would have been there for my dad if you could have. He knew how much he meant to you. You were a good friend to him. Hopefully we can find him soon and fix whatever Jareth has done to him."

"You're too kind Jo. We will get him back. I promise you. I really should get going. I have a birthday party planned for you this evening. I figured you need a break and need to unwind."

"Ummm what??"

"Your birthday, remember? I know it's not actually until tomorrow but I'm too excited about it to wait. And...it's such a beautiful December day, strangely warm as usual which makes it perfect for a nice outside gathering. What color fireworks would you like this time. I had them do purple for you at the last party...that is your favorite color is it not?"

You were completely mind blown over his attentiveness to your likings. He had told you before that he paid attention to the little things.

"I...I...you...did that? for...me?"

"I did. So...purple again? I had a cake made too. It's 25 candles now right?"

Your hands went to your face, covering it as you began sobbing.

"Jo...sweetheart. What is wrong?" he kindly asked and pulled your hands down so he could cup your face in his.

"I...I haven't celebrated my birthday since my seventeenth one, which was the last one with my dad....and he died...well supposably died the next morning. He..he still, in his sickness, made sure a cake was delivered for me, candles and all....and also had a dinner sent to the house because he knew I couldn't cook for shit....and...and this would have been my first one with Thranduil...."

Narcisse offered the most compassionate smile. "I will cancel the party. I apologize for overstepping. I just thought something of some normalcy would make you feel better...."

"No...don't apologize for being nice. You went to all this trouble for me..so it's the least I could do to attend my own party. Purple...yes...and please don't put that many candles on the cake. One will suffice so I can easily blow it out."

"As you wish your majesty. Now...I do have one other reason I came here. You promised me a date sometime. Maybe tomorrow? An afternoon carriage venture along the countryside by my villa?"

"I...umm...well..."

"It's Garrett isn't it? Is someone making you spend time with him?" he sarcastically asked.

"No one makes me do anything and you know it. And honestly, it is none of your business."

"Tell me then, is it my business when just the other day, you were kissing me?"

"Ok well you kissed me."

"And you kissed me back. It scared you didn't it? What you felt, so you turned to Garrett instead. But you, you came clear to the city to try and stop me from that fight. You care for me whether you admit it or not. You and I, we are the same Jo. Both witches that share a rare electrifying sensation when we touch. We empower each other."

"Maybe so...but this is all a game to you. You even said so yourself once, that you like games. I cannot trust what you say is real. I feel this is all just about winning to you, especially over that of a vampire. as if I am some prize...and he does not make me feel that way. I know him...I don't know you."

"Then get to know me. Give me that chance to prove that my feelings for you are genuine. What I said is that I had never had a worthy opponent. I will not deny thinking of you as a prize because you are just that and I would be the luckiest man to ever be able to call you mine. A winner indeed of true happiness that I have never experienced. All that I have done and am doing is because I have come to deeply care for you. This is all new to me. I know in the past I have come across as a seeker of victory but I assure you, that is not the case with you. Since our eyes first met, I wanted more. Much more. I have felt your approach long before you ever arrived."

Narcisse certainly knew how to choose his words, but you knew he meant them. He wasn't wrong. You did feel something for him and yes, you were scared. And you didn't want to hurt Garrett because you felt something for him too. Your dream made sure you faced that. You were just flat out scared to move on because this isn't where you were supposed to be, having to choose between two men. You were supposed to be with Thranduil forever, for he was your only choice.

"I'll tell you what. I will not hold you to your promise, for I know you were just trying to keep me alive at the time. Wear a flower in your hair tonight and if you do, then I will know you have agreed to share a date with me tomorrow. There is fresh new array of them in my office that the servants brought in this morning. I would love to spend your birthday with you. I must be off. It is time to serve more retribution where it is due."

Narcisse got up, offered you a head bow and then left.

Who crossed Narcisse this time? you wondered as you sat where he left you and stared out the window.

Lola then came in and her presence helped aid you in your decision for tonight.

"Lola...how would you like to join me tonight with Leean for a party. It is a beautiful day out and you are always stuck inside."

"A party miss? I was not aware that there was one."

"I was not either, but Narcisse was just here and informed he that he was hosting a birthday gathering for myself."

"It is your birthday? How wonderful..but...why do you not look so eager to attend? Oh how foolish of me to ask such a thing. Of course I know why. My apologies."

"No Lola, it is quite alright. I truly need to face reality and stop wallowing over what will never be again. Besides, he went to all the trouble to do something so nice for me when I was certain after what he saw today...well that's not important. Will you come? I hear there will be cake....and fireworks, although I don't know if that will startle Leean. That will probably be around her bedtime anyways. So what do you say?"

"Of course my lad...Josie. I would love to attend."

"Perfect. I need to do something first. Will you stay with her?"

"You know you do not need to ask. Of course I will."

"Maybe you could pick us both out something to wear while I am gone?"

Lola smiled and nodded, then you left for Stephane's office, still pondering over whether you would wear a flower or not, but you decided to go look at them anyways, for anything floral made you think of Thranduil.

A beautiful rainbow of flowers in a large crystal vase sat on Narcisse's desk just where the sunlight shone in to feed them. Cleary there must have been a greenhouse on the grounds for they couldn't be from the gardens in the middle of winter, but then again, as Narcisse said, the weather was strangely warm...and you did see a purple one sprouting from the ground a few weeks ago after the ice storm.

Of course you chose a violet beings that it was purple. You put it in your hair and stood at a mirror to see how it would look, but all you could see was the memory of the vision you had at Lestat's of Thranduil in the mirror. You closed your eyes and turned away, trying not to cry again.

As you took the flower out of your hair, you stood there and just inhaled it's scent, reminding you of how you would sit in Thranduil's gardens for hours when he was out tending to his Kingly duties. How you missed his Kingdom. Would you ever be ready to go back? You knew you needed to. It was Leean's home...it was your home...and you missed Legolas something awful and surely he was missing Leean if not you. You needed, wanted to make things right with him, but could you? Knowing how he felt about you now and how hurt he was. And why couldn't you hear him anymore? Did you just imagine it all?

You began to leave when something caught your eye on the desk. It was the doll made of hay that Stephane mentioned they found in Claude's room. Out of some strange intuitive feeling, you picked it up and looked it over....and then, something happened that had never happened to you before. You saw a vision.

Arion, standing alone in a place of darkness with a mangled mane and he turned to look at you as if he saw you. His eyes were so sad and lonely.

And then the darkness began to fade and you could see the surroundings. A place you didn't recognize but appeared to be some sort of desolate dungeon standing at the edge of a forest.

You gasped and dropped the doll and ran off to find Narcisse. As you turned a corner, you almost ran into Charles who was coming out of his chambers.

"My lady? Where are you off to in such a rush and why are you out of breath and look frightened??" he sincerely asked.

"Charles...you know the grounds here well, do you not?"

"I..I do yes, why?"

"Is there somewhere around here that is desolate...another dungeon maybe? A big round stone structure by a forest??"

"Umm..y..yes I believe so? A bit south off the back side of the castle. It hasn't been used for years. Why would you ask of such a place?"

"Can you take me there??"

"N...now?"

"Yes, please Charles!"

"Josie, what is this all about??"

"Just take me there. If my vision is true, I am about to make your father the happiest man in the world."

After saddling up some horses, you and Charles galloped off down a discreet pathway behind the castle and headed off into the woods. Roughly twenty minutes later, you came to a clearing and at the other end of it was the stone building you had seen on the edge of a cliff, hidden behind the forest.

"Wait. Stop!" Charles loudly whispered. "There are guards?? Why are there guards at this run down place?"

"Because I believe your mother has something valuable to your father locked up inside of it. I'll take care of them."

"With what? Magic? My father has rules about magic used on his guards. Trust me, I just got an earful about it this morning."

"Fuck the rules." you quipped and rode off.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble...." Charles whispered to himself with wide eyes and took off after you.

"Halt! What business do you have here? This area is forbidden." One of the two guards said as he walked towards you with his sword drawn.

You dismounted and fearlessly walked up to him as Charles jumped down and followed.

"There is no need to draw your weapon on a lady!" Charles snapped. "I know who you are and you know who I am. Exactly what business is it that YOU have here at a deserted dungeon??"

"That is classified information young warlock. If your father wished you to know, you would not be questioning me. Now move along."

"I take no orders from you! I demand to know what is inside, for I feel my father has no knowledge of this at all!."

"I said it is forbidden." the guard snarled and took a few more steps towards the both of you as the other guard then joined him.

"What are you going to do if I pass? Kill me? My father will have your head if you harm me or Josie."

"I will not harm you...now the girl on the other hand means nothing to me...but...maybe for a small price, we can work something out? I have not had the pleasure of a woman in a very long time."

"Nor have I." the other guard said with a twisted grin.

"And I can see why you disgusting oafs. Narcisse will have your heads either way for I know what is inside. His beloved horse. Arion."

"What??" Charles strongly asked as he whipped his head to you.

"That's right. Arion is not dead. Your mother stashed him here to make your father suffer by making him believe she killed him and fed the horse to him. I'm sorry Charles but I told you Catherine was sick. Now, let us pass or..."

"Or what??" the guard laughed. "See, now we have a bigger problem. You should have minded your own business. We cannot let you go now...my lady." the guard said, bearing a sinister smile as he neared you.

Just then, something swarmed him. It was so fast that you couldn't even see it...but you smelled the gush of wind that burst over you....Garrett.

The man backed away in panic, nearing a steep cliff that held only massive sharp rocks below at the ocean's edge. He was stormed again, but this time you saw something you had never saw of Garrett before. He appeared from a swarm of bats and raged in the man's face, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards, screaming to his death below.

It all was happening so fast, you and Charles were frozen solid as you watched the horror unfold before you.

Garrett charged the other one with his fangs in full view, something else you had never seen on him before, and then he bit into his neck and ripped his throat out.

The man fell to the ground and frantically scurried away from Garrett, ending up being backed against a tree.

Garrett leaned over the horrified man and bit into the other side of his neck, killing him instantly.

Your terrified gasp caught Garrett's attention and he froze, keeping his head down. He then slowly opened his blood soaked hands and looked at them.

Garrett's hands began to shake and his breathing became heavy.

"G..Garrett?" you squeaked as you took a step towards him.

"Stay back!!!!" he growled. "You...you can't see me like this..."

You ignored him and slowly crouched beside him, gently placing your own shaking hand on his shoulder. Your touch startled him and he quickly scooted away, keeping his back to you.

"I said stay away! This...this wasn't supposed to happen...they...they were going to hurt you...I could hear their disgusting thoughts."

"Garrett...it's ok. Please look at me."

"No! I...I never meant for you to see me like this. I can only imagine what you must be thinking. I heard your fear...I can smell it as well."

"Garrett...I...I'm not afraid of you, I was just taken by surprise. They were bad men Garrett...this...this is what you do to those kind of people."

"But you weren't supposed to see it! Not ever! I lost control...I...I'm so...sorry....I...I'm so ashamed..."

His voice was breaking as if he were going to cry as his entire body was now trembling.

"Garrett talk to me...Did...did something happen to cause this?"

"I...I'm a monster Josephine! Just like I always told you I was. That's what caused this. You...you need to stay away from me. I...I don't belong in your world just like everyone has told you."

"Garrett, stop talking like that. You are not a monster! They were the monsters. If you hadn't have come, even I myself would have hurt them. I was going to set them on fire. Does that make me a monster too then? Garrett, please...look at me...let me help you."

"Have a great birthday party and date with Narcisse." he softly said and then his scent rushed through your hair as he vanished.

"Garett wait!!!!!!! You don't understand!!!"

You turned to see Charles still frozen solid with wide eyes and shaking.

"Charles, it's ok. I know him. He wouldn't have hurt you. He was only protecting me."

"Even so, he's...a vampire...on our lands...he just killed two of our guards. I...I have to tell my fath..."

You ran up and grabbed him. "No! You cannot tell Narcisse about this, ever! Do you hear me?? He will have Garrett hunted and they will kill him and I will not let that happen! Those guards were evil and you know it. If Garrett hadn't killed them, I would have...and so would your father if he were here!! But the fact that it was a vampire won't matter to Narcisse, especially that it's Garrett. Please Charles, I'm begging you. I...I care about him...very very much."

"I...I don't know Josie. I think you should just tell him so he does not find out another way. He would understand that the monst...sorry, the vampire was only protecting you...and judging by the way my father looks at you, I would think that your safety would be all that mattered to him. Do you not trust him?"

"I...I want to...but...I just can't risk Garrett's safety...not after all he has ever done for me."

"If..if I stay silent, how will their deaths be explained?? It's quite obvious from the one's wounds what killed him. My father will eventually know they are missing and have them searched for."

"Then they shall not be found."

"W..what?"

You turned to the dead guard and flung your hand out. It ignited into flames and you showered it over him, setting him ablaze.

"There. No more evidence. He will burn to ash. As far as the other guy, he wasn't wounded. It will just look like he accidentally fell if he is found. As far as Narcisse, he only needs to know we found Arion here, nothing more."

"Jesus. Remind me to never piss you off. Alright. I won't say anything...but if I am asked...I will not lie to my father."

"Ok...I can deal with that. Thank you Charles. Now, let's go get Arion."

Sure enough, the snow white horse was inside alive and well, but seemingly depressed and in untidy conditions. His eyes lit up when he saw you, for he remembered his first meeting with you....and of course he knew Charles.

"It's alright now big fella. I am going to take you home where you belong and that wicked witch will never harm you again." you assured him as you lovingly stroked his nose.

He tilted his head and nudged it into your chest, making snorting sounds which had you and Charles laughing. Strangely, it was the first time you had ever heard the boy laugh and you felt slightly guilty for berating his mother in front of him. You understood exactly what it was like to have a love hate relationship with a parent.

You brought the Lipizzan horse outside and let him drink from the canteen you brought, then let him snack on an apple while you tried to untangle his neglected mane. Once he finished his fruit, you both took him back to the stables where the other horses were overly happy to see him as they loudly greeted him with many different pitched neighs and hoof stomps. You spoke with the stableman, asking him to see to it that Arion was pampered, cleaned up and well fed. You also told him to have him ready for a surprise tomorrow and to keep his return a secret until then, for Arion needed a good nights rest in the comfort of his home. After giving the gentle giant a kiss upon his nose, you then left to get ready for the party you were definitely not in the mood for after the recent events, for all you could now think about was Garrett, who was ignoring all of your calls to him. He obviously had heard your conversation with Narcisse and that is what had triggered his anger.

As you and Charles arrived back at the castle, there was a large gathering of of guards and horses in the court yard, along with some man lying on the ground.

"Oh look, Narcisse is serving punishment to one of the guards who caused you trouble the other night in the dining hall. The other guard knew of what would come, so he fled, but he will be found soon enough and pay for his involvement. Come, let's go watch!" Charles eagerly said and trotted off.

How quickly the boy went from referring to Stephane as his father while defending him, then right back to addressing him as Narcisse when it came down to business.

When you walked in, the man on the ground was being tethered by his arms and legs. He saw you and your eyes locked.

"Please....I was never going to hurt you, I swear it! I...I had too much to drink. I shouldn't have said such vulgar things...I...I'm sorry my lady!" he cried.

You gasped in horror, looking all around for Haldir but he was not there. You then rushed up to Narcisse, who turned to you and explained what was happening.

"Do you know why they bind him at up the arms and legs? For a good clean break...or they can do it the other way, at the hands and feet...which do you think would be more painful?"

"Stephane, you cannot be serious? Please, stop this now!"

"Why on earth would you want me to stop? You know how things are done here when it comes to harassment of women, especially you. I had my men stoned to near death as equal punishment over harming a bird, so certainly you must know that this offense would deserve a far worse punishment, for men like Asher should not breath at all."

"The...the crow..." you muttered, wondering where your feathered friend had been since then."

"Yes? I was told by witnesses that it was a black bird when I caught them just after the heinous act of hurling rocks at it. How did you know that?"

"Because that crow is my friend who has saved me many times from danger. He came to me that night, barely able to fly and covered in blood. I had meant it speak with you about it but so many things were happening. He told me, well, he showed Garrett what happened to him, but Garrett said he saw that you had returned from the city and were handling the situation. I'll have you know, the bird would have died if it had not been for Garrett. He healed him when I could not."

You defense of Garrett was another attempt to make Narcisse see he wasn't a monster in case what happened earlier with the guards was ever revealed, but of course, Stephane's response only proved your efforts pointless.

"Ah yes, the infamous heroic vampire saves the day once more. Well...for the crow's sake and yours, I am happy he was saved. Why was the bird here anyways?"

"He's a messenger and my guardian of sorts. Usually he has something to tell me or bring to me. He is how I had gotten my moonstone back. I guess he knew I needed it or something."

It then be became clear to Narcisse that, that is where Thranduil's letter came from that his guard found nearby one the ground that night. The crow somehow knew the Elvenking was alive and brought it here to tell you.

"Can we get back to what's happening here Stephane? I understand you have rules and beliefs and whatever but...I was the victim and I am telling you, it was only drunken words. He does not deserve to die over it. He is sorry, you heard him,...and I believe him. Please, punish him some other way."

"He is only sorry because he is about to be drawn and quartered. Carry on." he then said to the horsemen as if your words meant nothing.

They began moving the horses, pulling his arms and legs nice and taut as the man screamed in sheer terror.

"Stephane Narcisse!! This is not you!!! I thought you believed the spell had been broken?? This is a disgusting vile act!" you shouted in one last plea to save the man.

"Tell me something Jo...your King has done similar and even far worse things to those worthy of their punishments and you did not have a problem with that, so why is it that you have a problem with how I operate things here?"

"I never said I liked it and many times, I told Thranduil how I felt about it, not that it's any of your business, and many times I was able to get through to him because he had a good heart inside of him that only I or Legolas would ever see....and I have seen that heart inside of you. This man does not deserve to die and if you go through with this, you can shut that party down and kiss your date goodbye, and me for that matter, for I will not stay where death takes precedence over what is right. You told me you were not a soulless animal now prove it!" you reeled with your own nose flaring like that of your Elvenking's.

Stephane's bright blue eyes softened and he turned to Bash and nodded at him to stop.

"Release him and take him back to the dungeon. This is your lucky day Rossif." he said to the warlock who mouthed the words 'thank you' to you with tears in his eyes.

"Will I...see you tonight then? Hopefullllly with a flower in your hair..."

You wanted to say no and you wanted to still be mad at him...but you couldn't and it drove you crazy that this warlock lord was growing on you.

You simply nodded with a light smile and left.

On your way to the front entrance, you sensed someone familiar. A vampiress and only vampiress that smelled of baby powder. Selene.

As your eyes scoured for her, you then caught sight of the dark haired vixen standing on the edge of an empty loading dock where she could easily dart off over the Rhun if detected.. Discreetly, you snuck off and made your way there.

"Selene?? Oh my god...." you raved as you stepped onto the dock and then ran to her.

She braced herself for the impact of your bear hug, laughing as you pounced upon her.

"It is soooo good to see you again! I have missed you immensely. Is everything alright? What has brought you to the danger zone?" you asked with a chuckle.

"Well I have certainly missed you as well, my only human friend and I wish this was just a social call but..."

"But? What's going on?" you asked in wariness due to the irresolute look in her ice blue eyes.

She reached into the pocket of her black leather pants and pulled out a small piece of folded paper, then reluctantly handed it to you. Dithering to open it, you slowly unfolded it and softly read it aloud.

"This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I am leaving Devil's Island. You will not see me again. You know you and I could never be and I cannot bear to look you in the eyes again after you saw the real me. I would rather be truly dead than to feel this kind of pain. Hopefully I can make that happen. The dumbest thing I ever did was fall in love with you but it's the happiest I have ever felt. I will carry the memories of you with me until my last breath. I am so sorry I have ever hurt you. I love you. Forever. Goodbye my little one....- Roman"

"This...this is a joke right?? He's just going to leave me??"

You crunched up the letter in a fury and walked to the end of the dock, shouting out into the sky.

"You promised!!!!"

"I..I'm sorry Josie. I begged him to change his mind but he wasn't having it and he wouldn't tell me what happened."

"I'll tell you what happened. Garrett's a fucking LIAR!!" you screamed back at the sky again. "He can't leave anyways, he has my..."

You stopped yourself, because no one but you and Garrett knew about your moonstone's whereabouts.

"You mean the gem? He told me where it is in case you needed it. Don't worry...I will never tell a soul."

'Wow, well I guess he thought of everything didn't he. I guess this means he really is leaving...I...I..."

You could feel your chest tighten as a panic attack threatened to consume you.

"Josie??"

"He...he leaves me now, when I need him more than ever....he's gone." Tears filled your eyes, blurring your vision. "Well I guess he made my choice quite easy for me....although it would have been quite simple."

"Choice?"

"I would have chose him....."

@redeemer46

youtube

34 notes · View notes

husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

1K notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#andy barber x reader #good little wife #steve rogers x reader #andy x reader #andy barber x oc #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #defending jacob fic #andy barber fic

2K notes · View notes

fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 years

Text

Ineffable Con 2020 Fun Facts

Fun facts from the Ineffable Con 2 (2020) guest panels :):

Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins

David G. Arnold (the music composer)

Claire Anderson (the costume designer)

Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)

Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)

Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)

1. Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon and Rob Wilkins

What do they have from Good Omens:

Rob has the statue from St. Beryls, all four motorbikes from the four horsemen, Crowley’s Devon watch, box signed by David Tennant with Crowley’s sunglasses and Aziraphale’s cocoa mug with Michael Sheen’s DNA :).

Douglas has the playing cards from Episode 1 and heavily annotated Good Omens book they used for filming with inscription by Neil: ‘For Douglas, make us love, make us cry, 3rd August 2017’.

Neil has Aziraphale’s chair from the bookshop that he bought from the BBC and he uses it for Zoom meetings.

What is their favourite thing that was not in the book and was added to the TV show:

Neil: all of the first half of Episode 3 - an absolute joy.

Rob: also the beginning of Episode 3.

Douglas: David Arnold’s music and Peter Anderson’s front titles.

Could Aziraphale get out of the Bastille easily if he wanted to?

Neil: if he could: absolutely. Did he have any conception of the mess he was in: probably not. It’s one of Neil’s favourite pieces of acting - the absolute delight on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that Crowley’s there and then he turns around and rather petulantly, grumpily goes oh it’s you - that moment of joy on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes that he’s been rescued is one of Neil’s favourite things.

Neil and yoghurt starter: I had this slightly mad thing where I would explain to everybody that fans were yoghurt starter. And I said, ‘Basically you start out with yoghurt starter and you put it into your warm milk and you leave it, and the yoghurt starter goes off and turns the entire thing into yoghurt.

Neil realized that there was a cat in his house (Neil doesn’t have a cat :)). After the panel Neil said that he was going to look for the cat with a can of sardines and Douglas joked that he would find Michael Sheen in a cat costume.

What was the best and worst about making the series:

Douglas: the best - the camaraderie, getting to know the people, the cast and crew.

Rob: the best - realizing that the book could be translated to the screen and watching it happen. The worst - coming to the end of the shoot and saying goodbye to everybody.

Neil: the best - the amount of love from everybody, the worst - fighting budget battles (producers wanted gone all of the cold opening and the death of Agnes Nutter).

Did they expect that Good Omens would attract so many LBGTQ+ people and how they feel about that:

Neil: Yes, absolutely. There are definitely people out there who seem to think that I accidentally wrote a love story with all of the beats of a love story including a break-up halfway through, without somehow noticing that I’d written a love story. And I may not be the brightest candle on the candelabra, but as an author who’s been doing it for a long time, I’m very well aware of when I’m writing a love story, thank you very much. And so from my perspective I knew that the love story would be one of the driving things that would get us from the beginning to the end. And I also made a bunch of decisions about our angels and our demons in terms of casting, in terms of gender that everybody backed me up on, which I loved. You know, the idea that the archangel Michael is played by Doon [Mackichan] is something that is... or Beelzebub is Anna Maxwell Martin, whatever, there’s... it’s not like we are going: these are women, there are men, we are going: these are demons, these are angels. They... this is not a thing. And also doing something like Pollution, where you go in and go: okay well if we were doing this in... if 1989 was now, if there were they pronouns, we probably would have done that. We didn’t think of it at the time but that’s no reason why we can’t do it now. And we did and I remember having a... not exactly a battle, but a... my very tiny skirmish with one of our execs who was very nice and very bright and was like: ‘Why are you saying they?’, and I’m like... and I... explaining, and he’s like: ‘Well I’ve never heard of that before.’, and I’m like: ‘Oh, okay, but trust me, just trust me, it’s all fine, just trust me.’

Douglas: And you know I have to say, just following on what Neil’s saying, I’ve been directing for quite a while, and I tend to notice if characters are falling in love, I tend to notice a love story happening in front of me, and I think it’s there, and everything is meant, guys, everything is meant.

Neil added: I would just say, there are some things that you do while you’re writing a script intentionally. The fact that... I wanted to do this, well, it was a thing I did that I really enjoyed doing... where whenever people accuse them of being a couple: they don’t deny it, they don’t argue, there’s no flustering on their part. They absolutely… you know, everybody… what I’m trying to say is: yes, other people in the story are perceiving them as a couple too. And here is Uriel perceiving them as a couple, here is wonderful Dan [Starkey, playing the passerby] …and you know, you do scenes like that because that’s... you are trying to make a point here and you’re trying to make a point on how people are perceived.

Season 2, yes or no [fiends, all three of them!]:

Douglas: What’s that?

Neil: Of what?

Rob: Is it muted for me as is for everyone else?

Neil confirmed that they are going to be Funko Pops. [yay!]

2. David G. Arnold (the music composer)

He didn’t read the book before he was approached to do the music. He was asked to do it by Douglas Mackinnon he knew from the Victorian episode of Sherlock and he said yes before even knowing what it was about because he wanted to work with Douglas again.

The first piece of music he wrote for the show was the brass band doing the Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon [Episode 6, in the park before the kidnapping].

The second piece of music he wrote was the lullaby that Crowley sings to Warlock. He always liked the lullabies like in Mary Poppins so he said to Neil: Why don’t we do it like Walt Disney, but if Walt Disney was possessed by Satan? That was about 7 months before he needed to write anything again while they were shooting and it kept going round his head the whole time - the melody stuck with him and when it came to the Opening Title of the show, this became the middle bit.

The original opening title was Everyday by Buddy Holly and each episode was supposed to be closed with a different version of it: a death metal version, an angelic choir version, a carmina burana version... and he actually made all those. But he likes to find the musical identity of the show and put it in the opening titles because it’s important and it tells you: ‘This is the word you’re going to experience’, so he wrote his own opening title with the lullaby in the middle and played it to them [probably Neil and Douglas] with Buddy Holly as the backup and: Neil just turned around in his chair and said, ‘That’s Good Omens.’. From that point the instructions were with no rules, just to create whatever he wanted: the further you can go the better, the weirder and the stranger you can think the better. It’s a rare thing to be shown a world like Good Omens and be let free to run around in it.

His favourite ending title is the Queen one in Episode 1.

One of the reasons he didn’t do a theme for Crowley and a theme for Aziraphale is that the theme of the show is theirs - it’s theirs and they share it and it’s both of theirs and there is no separating in that regard.

About Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship reflected in the music score: It’s interesting isn’t it, because the relationship changed in a way slightly frequently and majorly infrequently. It seemed right from the start that their relationship was somehow seeded and planted and had begun by the time we saw them even though they may not have realised it themselves, you know, with the pair of them on the wall, considering one is a demon in the Garden of Eden and one is an angel. They act very charitably towards each other and they act with a lot of things you might not expect. And underneath that there is a sort of sense of togetherness and support even though they both know that their paths are going to diverge and they have different responsibilities. So I always felt like, right from that moment, when the wing came up on the wall, that there was something special about their relationship. Three moments that stuck with him: in Episode 3 saving the books in the church when they completely rely on the other for survival in the way that they were very open about, one in the car outside the nightclub in 60s Soho - the Holy Water, you go too fast for me, that genuinely tearing, that there was reluctance in those words that he spoke and that sort of things as a composer is gold, it’s about making those moments more, and in the last episode in a scene they’re not event in when we see Adam and Dog in the fields and Anathema that music there which celebrates Crowley and Aziraphale’s music which is the theme of the show - their shadow has passed over everyone’s emotional journey, and everyone’s emotional journey is theirs as well. The argument in the bandstand was important as well.

His favourite leitmotif from the series is the lullaby.

About the scene in the car in episode 2 when Thomas Tallis changes into Queen: Terry’s favourite piece of classical music was the Thomas Tallis piece [Spem in Alium] so Neil asked if they can go from Thomas Tallis - a choral piece from 16th century - to We Will Rock You, and: ‘You never say no. You don’t say that you can’t do it. What you have to do is to be the first person who solves the problem.’ In the end it was a two-days work just for this little bit and he mentioned that he never had these sorts of challenges anywhere else before.

His favourite non-musical detail in the show - the crucifixion, how the scene was shot, how it was upsetting, and how it was made more effective by Aziraphale and Crowley’s inability to stop it, that they had to observe and watch it, that it had to happen. I remember seeing that at the time and thinking, I wasn’t expecting that level of brutal honesty, in terms of the pictures that I was looking at and what they chose to show. And I think all the more effective for it.

3. Claire Anderson (the costume designer)

When creating the costumes for the characters she started with mood boards.

Aziraphale - she knew that he needed to have something winglike in his collar so that’s why there are sweeping lapels very often. Using velvet [for the waistcoat] because that was nice and soft and had all the appropriate qualities. His watch and fob that has little gold wings hanging from it and other tiny bits of symbolism. Tartan bow tie. Beautiful cashmere checkered trousers - not quite tartan but a nod to it. A mid to late Victorian coat, Michael only made his decision on the coat a couple of days before the filming. Aziraphale in the present settled on a ring with angelic symbol and harp cufflinks, earlier his ring in ancient times has got a much more roughly hewn set of wings on it, so before jewellery making became sophisticated he modernised slightly - he magicked it up to be a bit more modern, more gentleman signet type of ring, but he never modernises entirely. His heart is much more in the past.

After they began to define Aziraphale they started to look at how the Heaven army of angels might look - the element of tartan came sort of from Aziraphale and the angels have a not-tartan kilt with a semi military type jacket and a military band across that might hold arms or not, because they are not really violent. She used spats to make them look quite neutral and genderless so hiding fastenings and concealing little details like that seemed a way to do that.

Gabriel doesn’t wear spats because he’s on Earth such a lot. His shoe has a cover with two buckles on the side giving the same neutral element. He wears a cashmere light-as-air suit.

The other angels are all in bastardized versions of what era they may have died in, so they could have died in the 1930s or the 1800s and the costume would have an element of that era about it - though of course as an angel you can change things.

The Quartermaster Angel - the costume is a combination of slightly Indian type military, maharaja pants, longer spats from another era, all combined pieces of military tailored to be magical and slightly nonsensical, as Heaven might be.

Crowley - she felt that he wrapped around like a snake sheds its skin so she wanted something double breasted because that seemed to envelope his snakey charm. David wanted to be more casual than wearing a suit. Under his collar he always has a flash of red like the snake that he comes from - the red belly. They put a red seam into the sole of his boots so always there is a hint of where he came from. The red tie in the blitz. He was more rock and roll than Aziraphale and modernised more to a snakehipped rock and roll star really. His present jacket - the fabric there is quilted, they found an 80s jacket that had elements of things they enjoyed - part of that was that it had a slightly quilted quality to the fabric which was like a textured snakeskin. It took quite a long time to create the fabric and then to make the jacket from that - they quilted some fabric and washed and whooshed it repeatedly to create a bit of puckering in it. He has a snakey scarf around his neck like a chain mail linked scales of skin scarf that he wore that complemented his neck chain. The trousers he wore in Victorian times are the same he wore in the 60s when he meets young Shadwell. His present trousers - slightly waxy denim - we just were looking for a slithery finish. Crowley’s neck chain - there is only one in the world - her tailor has a Gothic church full of interesting stuff like busts and drapes with old things, this chain mail scarf was there and David was looking for something to complete his costume and liked it.

Hastur and Ligur are her favourite characters - they were so enjoyable to create. She had an amazing book of 1920s and 30s criminals and they used that as a starting point, because they were all quite worn out and bedraggled and poverty stricken and like hell might be ideally. They burnt and decayed the bottom of them as if they were rotting from the Earth and rotting back into the ground - all demons have sort of gators as if they were rotting from the ground up.

One of the most difficult things was the demons - when they realized they had a few days to create hundreds of demons in South Africa (4-5 days for almost 200 demons). It was as if I had been dissolved in holy water when they asked me for another 150 costumes.

The sleeves of Anathema’s coat have been inspired by a Victorian cycling coat.

The historical costume that Newt’s ancestor wore influenced his and Shadwell’s costumes - they used elements of the historical costume to put a little cape on Newt and Shadwell and their wax coats to give them the quality of that look. Newt's costume has a lot of mustard to make him feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable - it's not the most flattering colour on a northern European complexion.

The nuns’ headdress needed to look a little bit demonic - she bought a whole book on nuns’ headdresses for research. They also used the V in the nurse's apron because that was nicely demonic. The nurses' watch has got this Satanic symbol at the top - a little take on the medical since old nurses’ uniforms used to have watches.

For Madame Tracy she went back into the 70s, slightly Biba-esque makeup and a cape. They had only one pair of her goggles so it was always a nightmare to find them.

Which part of the cold opening is her favourite: I love ancient Rome because there is at least 6 to 12 metre of fabric in a toga and that was quite fun wrapping that around the boys and creating those., and her favourite was the Globe.

The lapels represent wings in every way and every shape and every form. Wings are very important.

4. Peter Anderson (Peter Anderson Studio created the opening title animation and in-show graphics)

The first thing that the director Douglas Mackinnon (with whom he worked on Doctor Who and Sherlock) said to him was: for all the graphics, for all the title sequence, for everything, I want you to promise me one thing, and that is very, very simple, promise that you send me emails that say: ‘this might be absolutely nuts, but my idea is...’.

The opening title it’s full of easter eggs - it’s a type of sequence that’s been designed to watch a thousand times, for example: on the escalator down to Hell there is one character running up deciding that he doesn’t want to go to Hell or the sea is full of plastic bags because we don’t look after the planet.

Every single face in the title sequence is either Crowley’s or Azriphale’s, they are repeated all the way through - inspired by Neil saying that there’s good and evil in all of us, so there is a grand procession of people of all the characters from the story - marching towards Armageddon - but all the characters have been taken over by good or evil. And along the way our two heroes are kind of playing tricks on each other, doing good, doing evil

The opening title combines multiple elements - two dimensional animation elements, three dimensional animation elements, CGI and live action (the people in the procession were created by live action on a travelator). So the result is a kind of strangeness - such as 3D figures with 2D animated tracked heads - which makes it unique.

Their first idea and version of the opening title was based on tapestries of old, subverting them, but then they wanted something more new and fresh.

Both Douglas and Neil were an important part of the opening title creation process.

The opening title sequence took about a year to make from the creative start with four intensive months towards the end.

One of things that inspired him was a Bauhaus theatre image from 1930s.

Question if the hand-drawn font for the graphics will be a purchasable font: no, because it was original and it’s unique and it was created just for this - it was for the love of the show and the story and it will be kept there.

In the scene where there are three photos of witchfinders - Neil and Douglas revealed in the DVD commentaries that two of them are their grandfathers - the third one is Peter’s great uncle.

Originally the signs telling us things like ‘Thursday’ or ‘Mesopotamia’ - were done as if somebody (who was living inside the television screen) ran up close to the screen and showed us the sign. In the end they simplified it, only showing the signs. The one time that it was sort of left in the show was when in Episode 5 a little demon in the video game shows a sign ‘GAME OVER’.

Outside of his work on it, what was his favourite thing on Good Omens: spending time with Douglas and Neil, and also working with Milk VFX - I think I can honestly say it's the best job I've ever worked on with the nicest people.

5. Paul Adeyefa (Disposable Demon)

He first read the book when preparing for the audition - the character wasn’t in the book but he got into it, loved it and couldn’t put it down.

He didn’t know about the name Eric until the script was published and people started calling the demon that, he really likes the name and thinks it fits.

There was a version of the script where the demon was going to be dressed in different costumes each time he was discorporated (for example one in long hair wearing a dress) - they would be all the same but different incarnations, in one version they had different accents.

The first scene he shot was the one where the demon goes to Heaven to deliver the Hellfire (and also wants to hit ‘Aziraphale’ which was cut). That first day was also his favourite moment of shooting because there was an immediate welcoming atmosphere and everyone was lovely and in love with the production.

Disposable Demon is like a permanent intern, running errands for the higher ups in Hell.

His favourite part of the costume were the eyelashes (though he loved the whole costume).

If he could change anything about the costume he would also want cool contact lenses - some brightly coloured ones.

Question what animal (like other demons have on their heads) comes to mind when we see the Disposable Demon: he didn’t think about it at the time, but later he saw people talking about his horns as bunny ears and found it interesting, and also the facts that there are so many of him and that he is quite happy and friendly for a demon so the bunny makes sense, so he might be a sort of a rabbit. Or perhaps something goat type because of the horns.

Question if there is another role in Good Omens he would have liked to have played: he always thought that the four horsemen were very cool and Pollution was his favourite so probably Pollution (also was the most jealous of Pollution’s contact lenses).

If there were a season 2, he would be there in a heartbeat.

Question about Eric’s feelings on Crowley, if he’s a bit of a Crowley fan: I think he might be. There is something about Crowley and how he is somehow a little bit different from the rest of the demons. - and the Disposable Demon has, much like Crowley, interest in the human world. He could well be 6,000 how many years old, the same as everyone else, but he seems to have this younger vibe and I think he thinks that Crowley is quite cool.

Good Omens fandom is his first experience with a fandom of this scale. It speaks a lot, the fact that this kind of very, this minor character, a character who is only on screen for a very short amount of time gets any kind of attention at all, it's quite amazing really, it goes to show how big and enthusiastic the fans are. I never experienced anything like that.

6. Jeremy Marshall-Roberts (the owner of Mary the Bentley)

When Crowley used a miracle to switch off the Bentley lights in Episode 1 at nuns manor it was done by: there was actually a very small guy called Louis turning on and off the switches quickly.

David Tennant was allowed to wear the snake eye contacts for only 3 hours a day otherwise they could damage his eyesight.

For Mary, the Bentley, it was the second time she was ‘blown up’ on film - first being in the Endeavour with Inspector Morse about three years earlier.

He was a bit nervous during filming the bookshop fire scene because the Bentley was so close to a real fire - not wanting the paint to blister. The car was moved off after a few minutes of filming but still.

About the damage to Mary: Unfortunately, we overran, and Rob my stunt driver had already booked a holiday and off he went and so when he returned in January, on the 10th of January, I had this new driver who really had no clue how to drive old cars, so I showed him around, I showed him to go around corners. He came around the corner, the door was not closed properly for some reason and the door flew open as he went around. And instead of slamming on the brakes which is extremely efficient and would stop him straight away he kept on going, hit another car and really smashed the door quite badly. It did take the car off the roads for 10 months. The door was completely remade because of this accident and it cost the total of £24 000 to rebuild the car to get it back to running as it is today.

The Bentley’s part most difficult to maintain and service is the engine.

Would Mary be available for a potential season 2: definitely!

2K notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Vaincre

part iii

cw: brief, non-graphic mention of injury and medical assistance

September

Only blue talk and love

Remember

How we knew love was here to stay

Summer hadn’t truly felt over until Remus saw Regulus standing in the airport, bags checked for New York and backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Well,” Regulus said, shifting a little between his feet. “Here goes.”

Remus laughed. “It’s going to be amazing, Reg.”

“Maybe. Hopefully.”

“It will,” Sirius said. “But if you need anything we’re…what? A four hour drive?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, you can call.”

Regulus huffed out a laugh. “You two sound like worried parents.”

Sirius laughed, too. “I’m just glad we know what those sound like now.”

Regulus’ expression shifted, tightening. He nodded, seemed to hang in hesitation for a moment, and then walked forward two steps and threw his arms around Sirius. Sirius froze, too, with his hands in his pockets, and then wrapped his little brother up tight.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Remus heard Regulus murmur softly. “I don’t really think you left me there. With them.”

Sirius made an indistinguishable sound, and Remus took a step back, giving them space and not sure if he was fighting tears or a smile. He used to just think about how he could kill Sirius and Regulus’ parents if he had the chance, but now, seeing how far the brothers had come, he wasn’t sure they were worth the time at all.

“Come home sometimes, okay?” Sirius said. “D’accord?”

“Ouais,” Regulus said.

They pulled apart slowly, both a little bright-eyed. Sirius laughed wetly, wiping his face.

“And make good friends.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s supposed to be good choices.”

Sirius reached out for Remus’ hand. “Good friends are good choices.”

“Ah,” Regulus hitched his pack farther up his shoulder. “Of course.”

“Call when you get there, too,” Remus cut in. “My mom would definitely want me to say that.”

Regulus waved them off. “Okay, that’s enough parenting. I’m going now.”

Sirius held Remus’ hand tight as they watched Regulus go through security and then disappear with a wave, sliding his headphones on. He let out a long, unsteady breath.

“Merde.”

“Love ya,” Remus smiled, reaching up to wipe a tear from Sirius’ cheek.

Sirius glanced down at him. “He’s going to be fine.”

“He is,” Remus nodded.

“He forgives me.”

“No,” Remus said. “He told you that you never did anything wrong.”

Sirius let out another tearful laugh, sniffing. “Right. You’re right.”

Remus pushed up on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Wanna get dinner?”

“Ouais. That sounds perfect.”

They wandered the summer soft streets, cooled by the evening and by approaching September. Remus was torn between being ready to let summer go, and never wanting it to end at the same time.

It’s good to hear a packed Hogwarts Stadium again, huh, Dean? Even if just for a preseason game against our New York Rangers neighbors.

Right, Lee? I love this post-summer feeling, and I know our Lions do, too. Especially excited to see what our new talent has to offer. This’ll be fan’s first glimpse at Lupin and Reyes, our two…well, I suppose rookie wouldn’t be quite as perfect a word for Lupin as it is for Reyes. We’re used to Lupin’s face around here, huh.

That we are. Not used to seeing what is rumored to be some very quick feet on him, though. As far as testing went, that is.

Right, the bike test. As well as strength. Who knows. This could be building up to a very interesting season.

Remus stared up at the TV mounted on the wall as he peddled slowly on the stationary bike, keeping his legs warm. He felt bizarre, and had been dodging any type of media to avoid having to talk about it. He was dreading post-game. Every time he tried to think of something to say, his mind went blank.

I’m happy to be here.

I never thought I would be here.

The other half of his brain was trying to compute that it wouldn’t just be the preseason, practice scrimmages he was used to. It wouldn’t just been his team, his friends, out there. Not that it would be a full fledged game, either. No one looked to crushing blows during a preseason game. It was about getting warm. Remus was thankful for it. He didn’t know how he was going to feel when he put his jersey on. When he stepped out onto the ice. He had been nervous enough for the fitness testing.

“You’re literally the fastest guy here,” Finn had said after he’d gotten off of the bike—with the highest score. It had made him feel better, but he knew he wouldn’t really be settled until until coach called his name from the line card.

“Loops,” Logan said, swinging onto the bike beside him. “I keep running into you.”

Remus smiled. “Looks like we having similar warm-up routines.”

“Apparemment,” Logan nodded, turning up the resistance. “Nervous?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Logan nodded, but stayed quiet and Remus was thankful. Everyone tried to talk him out of it, Sirius included, and he loved them for that, but at the same time, this was nice, too.

“Me too, sort of,” Logan said, and they traded a smile before looking back up at the Gryffindor pre-game show.

“All right,” Coach Arthur Weasley clapped his hands and gestured to the side of the room where the assistant coaches and staff were standing. The whole locker room was flooded with energy of all kinds—nervous, excited—and it flowed through those not in uniform, too. “We all know Moody. We all know our coaches. Mason, Alexandra, and Dan. We all know our PTs—should I say new PTs—“ there were some laughs. “Lars and Layla.”

“Double-Ls,” Thomas whooped.

Layla gave two thumbs up, and Lars remained stoic, arms crossed. He hadn’t said much since arriving aside from the occasional wise-cracking joke delivered without a trace of a smile.

“Who’s captain serious now, eh?” Thomas leaned in to whisper, and Remus suppressed a smile, glancing at Sirius—who was wearing an almost equally focused expression on his face, completely still where he sat a few stalls down, past Thomas and James. Remus glanced around the locker room, down the crescent-shaped row. Kasey and Leo, on opposite ends, were both geared up. Finn and Leo were sharing AirPods. Remus knew Kasey had worked hard over the summer, rehabbing his thigh, strengthening and increasing flexibility. He knew Leo was happy to be his back-up, but part of him wondered what Leo thought about all the games he had played in the play-offs, only to be placed right back on the bench now. It happened to a lot of guys—some were called up for injury, only to be sent right back down to the farm team when injuries healed. But Remus thought it was different for goalies. He hoped Coach wouldn’t leave Leo sitting on the bench for too long.

“Who’s calling first line?” Coach asked, and held the card out to Sirius. “Cap?”

Remus didn’t realize until the cheers broke out that he could be loud with the rest of them, and gave his stall a few bangs as Sirius rose, hat keeping his hair back. His eyes found Remus’ briefly once had turned towards them with the card, and Remus’ breath caught at his beaming grin.

“Okay, boys, first line,” Sirius said. “We’ve got Pots.”

Clap.

“Tremzy.”

Thomas drum-rolled his stall.

Sirius smiled. “Myself.”

Finn put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

“And on D, Olli and Timmy.”

While the boys burst into chatter again, Remus watched Sirius hand the card back to Coach, and caught his eye again, raising an eyebrow. Sirius held up Thomas’ number, and Jackson’s. Remus nodded to himself. That could be the third or fourth line, and he’d played well with both of them in scrimmages. It made sense. He could work with that.

And it meant he’d get to watch Sirius out there. At least that wouldn’t change.

“All right,” Coach laughed, putting his glasses back on and turning towards the other coaches. “Get dressed, get dressed.”

Remus had sat in his stall quite a few times by now. For his promo-pictures at the beginning of the summer—the first time he had slipped his jersey on, too, right over his suit and tie. But sitting in it now, strapping his pads over his bare chest before a game, a game where he would be up against other NHL players…that was different.

“You’re one of those?” Thomas snorted, flicking Remus’ bare ribs. “Doesn’t the velcro scratch?”

Remus laughed. “Can’t break old habits.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Or is now the perfect time to make new ones.”

“Not after a year like the last,” Remus said.

“Oh,” Thomas whistled, yanking the laces of his skates tight. “You’re that superstitious.”

“I try not to be,” Remus stood. “But playing again…seems to bring it out in me.”

Remus turned to step into his pants, adjusting the pads and his jock until everything fit together comfortably. He eyed his jersey, the number six hanging proudly on a hanger, and he smiled to himself but turned to his skates next. The jersey sent his heart leaping into his throat. He’d save it for last.

“Let’s go boys,” Pascal called, standing by the door to bump fists and pat helmets on their way out.

Remus laced up his skates, pulling them tight over his taped up socks, and then, finally, removed his jersey from its hook. He didn’t waste time staring down at it. That would just make him overthink and, hopefully, he’d have many times to put this jersey on again.

It slid over his shoulder pads, he tucked in the back, and grabbed his helmet.

“I like that Loops is just over there grinning to himself,” Finn snorted as he left for the tunnel.

Remus shrugged, eyes finding Sirius. He already looked like his mind was on the ice, even for such a low stakes game.

“You know,” Remus said as the team started to file down the tunnel. “I used to go last.”

Sirius’ intense eyes lightened into a softer gray. He shifted from one skate to another. “Oh? I don’t know if I knew that.”

Remus tilted his head, smile playing at one corner of his mouth. “Well? What are we gonna do?”

Sirius just stared at him. “I… I go last.”

Remus let out his laughter, leaning up to tap their helmets together. He vaguely heard a camera flash go off, and smiled. He wanted that picture.

“You should have seen your face, baby,” he whispered, and grabbed his stick from the rack before catching up to James.

He heard Sirius splutter out a laugh—and there was definitely some relief in there—and follow.

The sounds of the crowd in Hogwarts stadium only grew louder. Remus could feel Sirius close behind him.

“Ready, mon loup?” he asked quietly, just before the tunnel opened up to the lights.

Remus didn’t know if Sirius heard his yes over the roar of the team’s entry into a sea of red and gold, but then feet were on the ice he was doing a lap, the Rangers at the other end.

On opening night, Remus knew he would be taking this lap alone, along with Cole. A rookie’s first official NHL game. It felt surreal to think about. He couldn’t knock the feeling that he was too old for that—but he knew plenty of guys did it at his age. You didn’t have to be eighteen.

He picked up a puck and headed towards the goal, trying to decide if it would help to block out the noise, or let it overtake him. The boys were dialed in. Remus glanced over at Sirius, feeling strangely bare without him by his side. But he was over by center ice, tracing the Lion printed there—as usual. Remus didn’t want to seem favored. He didn’t want to seem clingy. They weren’t a couple out here, he knew that. They were teammates.

He shot at Kasey, who caught his puck in his glove, and began the wrap-around again before pushing backwards around the outside of the goal, as he always used to. He’d done his routine a few times at the beginning of practices, but it was nothing compared to being surrounded by a crowd—a bigger crowd than he’d ever actually played in front of before.

Kasey tapped a puck at him once he reached his first post, and he laughed, shooting it back until a sign waving at the glass caught his eye. It was held by a kid, maybe around Julian’s age.

I want a signed stick the ReMOST, Lupin!

Remus laughed at the kid’s wide eyes when he saw that he was looking, and gave him a thumbs up the best he could with his gloves on before holding up his stick.

“One second,” he called over the crowd.

When he got to the bench, Sirius was there stretching, holding out an already uncapped sharpie.

And looks like Lupin’s heading over to sign that young man a stick. I bet that’s a good feeling after—oh! Black’s got a pen ready for him.

Remus shoved a glove under his arm and took it. “You saw the sign?”

“I got the kid down to the glass,” Sirius grinned.

“I love you,” Remus said as he scribbled his signature, complete with the jersey number that players always included.

It took two tries to get the stick successfully over the glass, but for the look on the boy’s face, Remus would have tried twenty.

“Feels good, eh?” James said once the horn blew for warmups and they were settled onto the bench.

“Too good,” Remus said.

“First line,” Coach called, slapping his calling card against his palm. “12, 10, 7, let’s go. Olli, Tims, on D.”

Sirius sent him a quick smile, and Remus spun his stick in front of him. “Let’s go, Captain.”

Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the boards towards center ice, where Zibanejad was waiting.

Good to see that sort of…what would you call it, Dean, from Black?

Light energy, I think, Lee. Sirius is well known around the league for his intensity.

Right. Nice to see Lupin getting a smile out of him before what is most probably a season that holds more pressure than usual for the Lions, after a Cup year.

One of Black’s coaches once said in an interview that the only thing Sirius feels after scoring a goal is pressure to score another. Ha, sounds about right.

Remus all but held his breath when the ref dropped the puck. Sirius stole it back for James who nicked it over to Logan. Logan sped it into the neutral zone, narrowly avoiding Lafrenière.

“Bulky kid,” Finn said from beside Remus.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Logan?”

“Well—yeah, but nah, Lafrenière,” Finn nodded. “Built like a tree, what is he, nineteen? Crazy. I didn’t look like that when I was nineteen.”

“Well,” Remus said as the whistle blew for an icing on the Rangers. “People are comparing him to Crosby.”

“Kuny,” Coach called. “Lupin, Nado.”

Remus’ initial thought was surprise. The shock of being put out with the second line carried him somewhat numbly over the boards beside Evgeni and Jackson. He didn’t have time to look at Sirius take his place on the bench.

“Hey,” Evgeni said, drawing them in with a glove over his mouth so the Rangers filing out of their bench couldn’t read their lips. “I take Lindgren. Loops, go fast, okay? Nado get you puck.”

“Fox,” Jackson warned.

“Sergei take care,” Evgeni said like it was obvious, and loomed towards the face-off circle.

“Left side,” Remus said to Jackson before they parted. “I’ll try to shake Kravtsov.”

“Nice,” Jackson nodded.

Remus and Kravtsov shared a nod as they lined up shoulder to shoulder on the centerline.

“Welcome to the NHL,” Kravtsov said with a slight smile.

“Thanks,” Remus replied.

Kravtsov was so young. All of these guys were so young.

He couldn’t help feeling like time had been stolen from him.

Have you ever seen this many Russian players in one NHL game, Dean? Pretty nice to see. And here’s Lupin’s first shift. Let’s go.

The puck dropped and Remus gave Kravtsov a shove, spinning out and around him. His heart seemed to press the sound out of his ears until all he could hear was his own breathing. Evgeni won the face off.

“Kuns!” Jackson shouted, and Evgeni passed it to him deep in their own zone. It drew Fox forward, just as Remus knew it was meant to, but Sergei was there for Jackson to derail the puck. Fox was forced to turn around, Kravtsov was made to press forward for a pass, and it left Remus free to shoot into their defense zone. Strome tried to cross him, but Remus spun around him. Sergei and Jackson tried to get it to him, but it left the zone. Remus swore as he pushed hard to touch up the neutral zone.

“6, 58, 86, off, Reyes, O’Hara, LeBlanc, on!”

Remus pulled back to the bench, sending Cole a nod as he hopped over the boards for his first NHL shift. Remus’ shift had been thirty seconds that felt like ten, but he was breathing hard. Finn followed Cole with a tap to his back, promptly stole the puck from Chytil, and slapped it into the corner of the Rangers’ goal.

Remus had barely taken a drink of water when the goal horn blared Gryffindor’s roar filled Hogwarts Stadium.

He punched Sirius’ side, who had his arms raised. Sirius laughed from beside him as they settled onto the bench beside each other.

“Ouch,” Sirius rubbed his padding.

“I don’t know, I got excited,” Remus laughed.

They held his gloves out for Finn to tap as he came down the line, the goal song blaring, the crowd chanting along to the catchy drumbeat.

“Nice solo, Harz,” Remus called, and Finn grinned.

“Thanks, Rookie.”

It remained pretty even through the first and second. Panarin had three good chances, the fourth sailing past Kasey’s glove. Sirius scored a dirty wrap-around just before the second’s buzzer, and Remus didn’t think he’d ever like anything more than getting the full force of Sirius’ smile as he tapped gloves down the bench line. No sooner had the final face-off of the period set up than were Evgeni and Lindgren going at it, hands gripping the back of each other’s jerseys as they dropped their gloves. Gryffindor would start the third one man up.

Remus filed back down the tunnel towards the locker room, smiling at Layla as he dropped his gloves in the bucket she was holding to be dried. He felt warm, his muscles used and a little sore. He longed for an ice bath, but he wanted to use them more too. It was the most familiar feeling in the word. He smiled against it as he sat down in his stall, laughing lightly at the way Evgeni threw a wet towel over his head.

“Not skate enough over the summer,” Evgeni groaned.

Remus looked up when a shadow fell over him and was greeted by two hands on his cheeks and a warm, familiar kiss.

“J’adore,” Sirius said.

Remus laughed, holding his wrists where his pulse still high from the game.

“Nice goal.”

“Good to be back,” James said as he pushed his jersey over his head. “Crowd sounds amazing. How you doing, Reyes?”

Cole looked up from where he was re-taping his socks. “The crowd is amazing.”

Remus felt a slap on the back from Evgeni, towel around his neck now. “Good shift, rookie.”

“Kuns,” Remus sighed, and Evgeni just laughed teasingly.

Remus felt Sirius’ eyes on him throughout the entire intermission. He knew he was curious, and had been for months, about Remus’ game routine. He’d asked and asked over the summer, but that was the thing with Remus’ superstitions—he couldn’t talk about them.

Remus took two fresh sticks from his rack and sat back down. He began wrapping it steadily.

“Of course your tape job is perfect,” Thomas sighed, shaking his head. “Of course, of course.”

Remus laughed, ripping the tape with his teeth.

“Speak for yourself,” Jackson grinned, giving his stick a twirl, the tape warped and hurried.

Remus snorted. “All I see is a fucking candy cane.”

Power play. Lindgren went into the box, slamming the door a little too hard on his way.

“Black,” Coach called as the crowd shuffled into their seats, armed with food, and Remus had been expecting that. “Tremzy, Lupin, Fox, Sunny.”

Remus blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Remus hopped the boards beside Sirius, and the stadium seemed to get louder. Sirius knocked their shoulders together, and Remus didn’t doubt the cameras were on them and he tried to control his expression. He didn’t want to look too pleased, or too dopy at the feeling of skating side by side with Sirius in front of a crowd.

I think this is the moment many of us have been waiting for, Dean.

You bet! I didn’t expect it to come so soon. Coach Weasley is trying out lots of different line combos tonight. What’s pre-season for? I hear Lupin’s played on the power play a few times in practice.

Sirius put his glove up by his mouth, holding his mouth guard.

“Try the double pass?” he said quickly.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Sirius bent down across from Zibanejad and the rest of the Rangers penalty kill unit.

It happened fast. Remus was used to seeing this from the bench—but maybe that was a good thing. He saw the ice as if through a wide lens, Sirius passed to Logan, and then it was on Remus’ stick to carry up. Remus blew out a breath, pushing his legs hard ahead of Panarin. He needed to get ahead, needed to stay parallel with Sirius. He felt Panarin scrape at his heels, but then Sirius was calling his name.

Shesterkin was still up and on his feet, reading to dive whichever way.

“Loup,” Sirius called, and it was as though it was only the two of them in the basement rink. Only the crowd was different, and absolutely roaring.

Remus snapped the puck to Sirius, who passed it right back. Shesterkin went down when Remus pulled his stick back in a fake, only for him to give it back to Sirius to tap into wide open net.

Remus’ hands shot up, and the crowd screamed. Sirius all but slammed into him, wrapping him up tight against the boards.

“Re,” Sirius laughed through he words, pressing their helmets together. “Mon loup, mon loup—”

Logan crashed into them next, followed by Adam and Henrik. Remus found himself in the center of elated shouts, the fans pounding hands on the glass from the other side.

“Merde, it sounds like the playoffs,” Logan shouted, pressing a hand to Remus’ helmet.

Remus could only laugh, giddy, high on it all.

What a goal! Well, Lee, I don’t think we’re going to have to wait long to see this young man’s first regular season point.

“He fell for it,” Remus said for the tenth time as he handed Sirius the last of their dinner dishes. “Shesterkin fell for it.”

Sirius laughed and slid the dishes into the sink and turned, placing slightly damp hands on Remus’ cheeks.

“You are amazing,” he said, accent heavy and laced with a need that Remus had felt stirring in himself since getting off the ice. They’d been on the ice together today. They’d built a goal together, scored. Igor Shesterkin had fallen for their fake-out.

“I was so happy today,” Sirius whispered.

Remus closed his eyes, caught between the feeling of Sirius’ body colliding with his own in celebration, and the feeling of his warm hands here, now.

“It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” Remus said softly, and opened his eyes, hands against Sirius’ chest.

What a terrifying, wonderful sentence.

Sirius just leaned in to kiss him, mouth tender and insistent. It was the same fire he had on the ice, leading Remus in a way that made his insides warm and his toes curl. Remus let Sirius guide him slowly up the stairs, and he relished in the way they stopped on the landing, on a half-way stair, just to be closer again, Remus’ mouth on his neck, Sirius’ against his temple. The hallway was dark, lit only by the nightlight they kept plugged in near their feet. It cast Sirius in warm angles as Remus tugged his shirt off and dropped it right there in the hallway.

“I’m not saying I’m not going to miss Regulus,” Remus said as Sirius bent to mouth gently against his neck. “But I’m not saying I’m not going to enjoy being able to undress you wherever I want now that we have the house to ourselves.”

Sirius’ laugh was soft, a little breathless. “Name your room, I’ll be there.”

Remus laughed, too. “Bedroom. Nice, soft bed.”

Sirius walked Remus backwards through the door, hands on his hips. “How do you feel? That was quite the race with Kreider in the second.”

“Good,” Remus nodded, but let Sirius’ strong hands dig into the muscles of his shoulders and back. He sighed into it, resting his cheek against his chest. “But I won’t say no to that.”

Sirius kissed Remus’ temple and worked his shirt over his head. He lay him down on the mattress and Remus closed his eyes at the feeling of Sirius’ lips against his neck, and then his shoulder.

Sirius kissed over the scar that Greyback had torn from Remus’ body all those years ago at their shared college, keeping Remus from a career in the NHL—at least until now.

“I wonder what he thinks,” Remus wondered aloud, and he didn’t have to explain himself for Sirius to know what he meant. Remus wound his fingers into Sirius dark hair as he looked up at him.

“Me too,” Sirius admitted. “And then I see red and have to stop thinking about it.”

Remus half-smiled. “Yeah…I felt bad at lunch those few weeks ago. With Cole. I really think he thought he said something wrong, and I wish I could explain but it’s still…it’s still like this weird secret, you know? Like people could find out if they really looked but no one has? And I don’t really want to bring it up but at the same time I know Fenrir has already spread lies. Saying it was a car crash or…who knows what. Sorry.” Remus pressed a hand to his face. “God, I’m completely killing the mood.”

“Re, hey,” Sirius pushed himself up onto his forearm, falling to the side and keeping their legs tangled.

“And it’s such a good mood, I just was thinking aloud.”

“You’re not. Talk to me. You can talk to me whenever.”

Remus ran his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “Okay…yeah, I know that.”

“This was a big day,” Sirius said. “Huge for you. Of course you would be thinking about him. I used to think about my parents every time I stepped on the ice, even after things were getting better. I think…I think its just time. It takes time.”

“It was strange today,” Remus finally admitted. “I couldn’t…I didn’t know how close to you I could be. Out there, I mean. I’m your boyfriend, you’re mine, but we’re also teammates. There’s so much debate, about my place on the team and if you did something to get me there…I don’t know. I don’t want someone to accuse you of favoritism. You don’t deserve that.”

“We’re both,” Sirius said. “We’ll always be both. You’ll always be the boy I love. You’ll always be my teammate.” Sirius shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if we’re on the ice or not. And I don’t care if someone thinks I favor you. We both know I don’t. Not like that.”

Remus made a soft sound and pulled Sirius further on top of him, making him smile. “Love you.”

Sirius let Remus press slow kisses to his lips. “This mood feels pretty good to me.”

Remus just hushed him, tucking a hand into his waistband.

Sirius kissed him until Remus’ cheeks were hot and his cock was aching, pressed up against his sweatpants. Remus could still hear the Lions’ crowd rushing in his ears. Sirius’ palm cupped him and pushed his sweatpants down. They were both flushed and pink. Remus wanted to see those colors together.

He pulled Sirius’ hips against his own, discarding clothing until it was all bare skin. Remus ran his hands over the hard curves of his back. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, hooking his arms beneath Sirius’, holding onto his shoulders.

Their mouths found each other messily, dragging and half open in gasps.

“Sirius,” Remus breathed, voice higher than usual.

The adrenaline that Remus had thought had faded with the game only seemed to thrum brighter. Remus couldn’t help the smile the crossed his face, brows drawn together at the feeling of Sirius rutting against him.

Remus pressed his ankle gently to the back of Sirius’ knee and rolled them, drawing breathless laughs from both their mouths that he sealed away to keep like a love letter. It was soft mouths and hard hands, clutching each other closer, getting the most out of the warm friction. Remus swallowed Sirius’ gasps. His orgasm built up below his spine and Sirius seemed to read his mind. He reached between them with a hand, brushing a thumb at his base, pressing up. Remus’ hips stuttered and he fell apart, shoving hard against Sirius’ tight fist.

Sirius followed at the hot streak of Remus’ come between them, and they lay there, panting, foreheads together. Remus eased their hips back together, both of them letting out a soft moan, then a laugh, as the spent cocks brushed, drawing out the last tendrils of their orgasms.

“That feels good,” Sirius mumbled, head sunken back against the pillows.

Remus rolled his hips slowly, bringing them down, and then pulled his head up. He pushed Sirius’ sweaty hair back from his cheek and kissed it.

“Communicate to score,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus laughed hard, squeezing his eyes shut, and dropped his face into his neck to catch his breath.

“It’s true,” Sirius said, running a warm palm up and down Remus’ back. “That article we looked at.”

They’d given in and read some press over dinner, laughing at some of the more excitable writers, and grinning at each other at the more serious ones.

Magnetism, one wrote. Feels like we’ve got some mind-readers on this team, a real Crosby-Malkin, Kane-Toews one-two-punch.

“Well,” Remus said, folding his arms across Sirius’ chest. “What am I thinking now?”

Sirius pressed his lips together, pretending to think. “Is it…how to get out of golf with James and the Cubs before the ring ceremony on Tuesday?”

Remus snorted. “Well, that’s definitely on my list. But nope.” He leaned in, brushing their mouths together. “That’s not it.”

Sirius grinned, and Remus sunk into how thick and sated his accent sounded. “Is it…will my handsome boyfriend please run me a bath and make me tea?”

Remus laughed into their next kiss. “Wow, that writer was right.”

It looks…maybe like a twisted knee? What do you think, Dean? Walker is definitely not making a move to get up—oh, there’s the medic. One of the Lions’ new staff members as, of course, someone had to take Lupin’s place. Ah, Walker is pointing to his foot now.

Man, is that a grimace if I ever saw one.

It sure is, Dean.

Here comes O’Hara to help out his teammate.

They were in Madison Square Garden, the Rangers giving them one hell of a re-match. Logan skated a close perimeter towards where Thomas had gone down, just between a line change.

“Shit,” Finn skated to a stop beside him. “It’s fucking pre-season. Did you see what happened?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Think it was just a bad fall. Strome looks sorry.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re not jumping him right now.”

Logan’s mouth quirked up. “I have no interest in jumping Strome, thanks.” His eyes found Leo on the bench. With his hat flipped backwards, the intensity, the worry in of his blue eyes cut a clear path to Thomas.

“T,” Finn said, skating closer. “Need a hand to the room?”

Thomas winced as he made it to one knee. “Yeah, man, thanks.”

Thomas stared up at the dark ceiling from the padded PT table, listening to the game continue on the TV mounted to the corner of the ceiling. There was the X-ray pushed to the corner, his results pinned up on the light screen. Fracture. Minor, but it’d take weeks to heal. He’d miss the beginning of the season. He’d be in a suit when they lifted the Stanley Cup champion banner in the stadium. He missed Noelle.

The light flicked on so suddenly Thomas flinched.

“Walker,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was accented—Swedish, he thought. Thomas squinted at the speaker. He was tall, and dressed in the staff jacket he’d come to associate with Remus. Right. Lars.

“I…hey,” Thomas said. His eyes went to Layla, who gave a wave as she slipped in behind the man. “Hey, man, Lars, right?”

Lars gave a short nod. “Nice to meet you. So, you probably know the drill by now. Couple weeks. Aspirin will be fine for pain management.”

“Right,” Thomas nodded.

“We’ve got a boot for you here, but I’d take everything to a doctor, just for a second opinion. I’ll recommend someone,” he shrugged. “That was an unlucky hit. I’m sorry.”

Thomas blinked. He didn’t know someone could seem sweetly uninterested. He smiled hesitantly. “Thanks.”

Thomas snapped a picture of the boot once he strapped it on and sent it out complete with a frowning emoji.

He had just opened the door to the locker room, accompanied by his new crutches and to meet his victorious team, when his phone began to ring with a Facetime.

“T,” Noelle’s voice gasped. She was beautiful, her hair curling around her face. “Baby, I saw.”

“It’s not too bad,” Thomas said beneath the noise as the locker room filled up. “You look like you’re about to go somewhere, I can call back, I just wanted to…”

I’m just sad about it. It sounded lame in his own ears.

He cleared his throat. “Logan, say hi to your sister.”

Logan poked his head into the frame and stuck his tongue out, then left.

“Lolo!” Noelle shouted for the locker room to hear, and Logan groaned.

“Lolo,” Kasey imitated, grinning, and Logan shoved his mask down over his face.

“How is it?” Finn asked, wrapping an arm around him. “Hi, Noelle.”

“Fractured. Couple weeks.”

“Damn,” Finn sighed. “Sorry, T. That was an—”

“unlucky hit,” Thomas laughed. “Preach.”

“Hey, baby, we’re all heading to grab some food, but call you tonight?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

He tried not to feel lonely as the screen went dark. He was in a room surrounded by people. People he loved.

It crept in anyway.

273 notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person...

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day…

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be.

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #ow ow ow ow ow #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #crap I have to reread this...#in for pain #sorry levi #went a little hard on you there

1K notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands.

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas.

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room.

“Before, obviously,” she said.

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist.

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said.

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said.

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head.

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees.

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean #winchester #dean spn

277 notes · View notes

thehangeddemon · 3 years

Text

Waiting for a Tuesday || Self Para || September 14, 2021

☠ WARNING ☠

This work contains graphic descriptions of violence, gore, and torture

Reader discretion is advised

“More tea, sir?”

Xavier glanced up from his newspaper and gave the waiter a pleasant smile. He shook his head. “I’m fine, John, thank you. You can bring me the check as soon as y—”

“Actually, John. Why don’t you go ahead and bring us another pot of tea? Anything but English breakfast,” he added with a chuckle that almost sounded condescending. “I don’t share my son’s fondness for it.”

The waiter watched as a man, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere and was dressed head to toe in black, invited himself to sit opposite Mr. Rossmara. He’d said ‘son’, but he didn’t really look old enough to have a son Mr. Rossmara’s age. He didn’t really resemble him either but that seemed less strange somehow.

What was strange was the way Mr. Rossmara was looking at the man across from him. He looked…stunned, like he’d seen a ghost or something. But beneath the surprise was an indiscernible emotion on Mr. Rossmara’s face that John thought looked just a little like fear.

At the stranger’s expectant look, John collected himself and cleared his throat, addressing Mr. Rossmara. “…Sir…?”

Xavier seemed to collect himself as well, though far more subtly. He folded up his newspaper and put the pleasant smile back on his face, determined to make it seem like nothing was wrong. Only someone who looked very closely would see how forced the smile was, or how measured his movements were.

“Yes, of course. Does earl grey meet with your approval?”

The man smiled like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “It does.”

“Very well. A pot of earl grey then, John.”

The waiter nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Xavier waited until John was well out of earshot before he spoke again. “Hello, Father. I didn’t expect you.”

Zagan let out another of those condescending laughs that set Xavier’s teeth on edge and dragged him right back to all his memories of Hell. “No, I’m quite certain you did not.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“My dear boy, it was hardly a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. For as long as you’ve had your shipping business, you’ve come to San Francisco every Tuesday without fail to check in. And without fail, you finish your work just before teatime. By your own admission, this hotel has the best afternoon tea in the city. All I had to do was remember the name of the hotel and wait for a Tuesday.”

Zagan helped himself to one of the cucumber sandwiches that remained on the tray. “You’ve become predictable in your old age, my boy.”

Xavier had to fight to keep from shifting in his seat. Not any-bloody-more. He’d be changing that particular habit immediately. It didn’t suit him at all for someone outside his household to have such intimate knowledge of his movements, especially if that someone was his father. Such information was dangerous in the hands of a man like Zagan. It didn’t matter if it was only the day and location of a standing reservation for tea and cake, Xavier knew from experience that the less his father knew, the better.

Which was largely why he didn’t take any great pains to see him. Unless, of course, he was forced to.

“I see,” Xavier said, settling for an amused smile since a laugh was impossible. “I suppose I am becoming a bit predictable. Anyhow, it’s nice to see you, Father. Have you been well?”

“Well enough.” Zagan was watching him carefully, studying every nuance in his expression, listening to the tone and inflection of every word. Becoming familiar with anything that had changed since the last time he’d seen his demonic progeny.

Thankfully Xavier didn’t have to endure it for very long. John soon returned with their tea, giving him a reprieve from paternal scrutiny as it was poured. It was the only thing that would for the next little while.

This time it was Zagan who waited until they were alone again before he spoke. “So. Tell me. How is that shipping business of yours doing? And your myriad other ventures?”

The next hour or so was spent in what one could call easy conversation. They spoke of Xavier’s businesses, the sights he’d seen, the things he’d collected, the weather, the state of the world. Perfectly light, perfectly casual. At least from an outsider’s perspective.

From Xavier’s point of view things were far more fraught. Everything he said had to be carefully weighed, and there was a desperately thin line between revealing too much and appearing withholding, between looking at ease and projecting discomfort.

Having a conversation with his father hadn’t always been this difficult. In fact, just a few years ago Xavier would have been—and had been—completely comfortable not only talking to Zagan but spending entire days in his company. He’d even sought him out once or twice. But then, Xavier had had far less to lose a few years ago. He hadn’t had a child, a fiancé, staff that depended on him, friends he cared for.

He had all those things now. He had more than he’d allowed himself to have in fifty years, and the memory of how things had gone then still lived all too vividly in his mind.

Getting back to a point of comfort with Zagan after that hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. There hadn’t been a choice. It was either swallow his pain, grief, and desire for vengeance and make nice, or tempt his father into carrying out his threats.

Sitting here now, Xavier felt much the same as he had then; trapped, resentful, and desperate to get away.

He had no illusions of being able to do that any time soon, however, even when his father finally asked for the check. After such a long absence, Zagan was sure to take up as much of his time as possible.

His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

“Come,” said Zagan, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.”

Xavier remained at the table while his father stepped outside, indulging himself with a long, weary sigh the moment it felt safe to do so. It had only been an hour and he was ready for another five-year interlude in their relationship.

What had brought Zagan up from Hell anyway? Surely this visit hadn’t only been for tea and a walk with him. His father hated humans, hated looking at them and being amongst them. There had to be another reason and no doubt it was something Xavier really didn’t want the know the details of.

“Probably scouting his next project child,” Xavier muttered to himself as he pulled his card from his wallet.

Bill settled, he stepped out into the late summer evening and breathed deeply. There was a chill in the air that said autumn was well and truly on its way. Soon the days would grow shorter and the nights longer. His collection of coats would emerge from storage. Every hearth in the manor would roar to life with cheerful, welcoming fires.

He sighed again, longing for the comfort of home as he looked for Zagan among the crowd of people in front of the hotel. That expression of disdain was easy to spot.

“Where shall we go?” Xavier asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know how you can stand it.” His father’s tone all but dripped disgust. “Being here day in and day out among these…creatures and the stench of their cities. It’s revolting.”

“I’d rather smog than brimstone.”

“I think I prefer brimstone.”

Right. That nipped the notion of walking on the street squarely in the bud. If only that were enough to dissuade his father, but alas.

Fortunately, there was a park nearby.

Zagan didn’t say a single word as they made their way there, clearly preferring to stew in his distaste until they were well clear of anyone who might catch a snippet of their conversation. Of course, he hadn’t been nearly so averse to it back at the hotel.

Xavier would just chalk that up to the difference between a well-appointed dining room and a crowded street.

His father’s demeanor seemed marginally more pleasant as they entered the park. It wouldn’t be empty for a good while yet, but it was an improvement from the street. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough of one to tempt him to stay much longer.

A few long minutes of not-quite-companionable silence passed before Zagan saw fit to fall into conversation again. The additional privacy meant they could discuss things that were far more relevant to his father’s interests than the weather or the goings on at a shipping company. Namely, any magic Xavier had learned, magical artifacts Xavier had acquired, and any kills Xavier had made.

The latter would perhaps prove to be a bit of a disappointment. Not only did Xavier kill less frequently these days, his choice of quarry had changed. The people that he’d once hunted were those he found interesting or amusing or intriguingly intelligent; only on the very rare occasion did he hunt someone who truly deserved it.

That was no longer the case. Lately when Xavier hunted it was only people who truly deserved it. He went for rapists and abusers. He went for people who hurt children, including and especially priests. There was immense satisfaction in knowing exactly where those people were going and what awaited them when they arrived, and even more in describing it in vivid, excruciating detail as they bled to death among the debris of a forest floor.

Hell was a far greater torment than anything he could visit upon them, and he was more than happy to send them on their way.

Zagan let out a loud, derisive laugh at that. “Are you indeed?” The old demon laughed again, putting Xavier’s back up and setting his teeth on edge. “My dear boy, you have been away from Hell too long. Who would’ve imagined? My son, the divine hand of justice for ne’er-do-well priests the world over. Never mind predictable; you’ve grown positively moral in your old age.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Xavier said softly, fighting to unclench his jaw.

His father gave him an amused look. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve merely…unearthed an intolerance I didn’t give sufficient regard to before.”

“Have you? Well.” Zagan chuckled and adjusted his sleeve, looking positively chuffed in a way that both infuriated and unsettled. “You never did like priests. Who would, having had your childhood? I suppose that particular aspect of your personality was bound to rear its head again eventually. Perhaps…it’s entirely appropriate that it should do so now.”

Xavier didn’t register the movement until it was too late. He only had a moment to feel his father grabbing his arm before he was whisked through the familiar vacuum of demonic travel, and even less to register his new surroundings before he was thrown bodily against something cold and unyielding.

“You unearthed an intolerance, did you?” Zagan’s voice, so casual and amused just seconds ago, now quivered with rage.

Xavier went flying again, this time into something that splintered beneath the force of his weight. Wood?

“And when exactly did you do that, Xavier? Was it perhaps around the time that you became a father?”

Again, back into the unyielding cold. Stone. “Father, plea—”

“Not that I can even tell, since I’ve scarcely seen the child—my grandchild—more than twice since the day he was born!”

Xavier cried out as he was flung for a fourth time, several bones breaking upon landing forcefully on a stone floor. There was something soft beneath him, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to cushion his fall.

He braced for another hit, relieved when none came. He could still hear the echo of his father’s furious footsteps, however, which meant the torment wasn’t over. Far from it. The pleasant Zagan of earlier was gone, and who had remained in his place was someone Xavier was very, very familiar with.

Familiar enough to know that he had only a few precious seconds to catch his breath and orient himself.

There wasn’t much he could see from this position apart from the ceiling of whatever edifice they were in but, not wanting to draw attention to himself too soon—or move lest he worsen his breaks—he observed what he could by turning his head.

Said ceiling, high and crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, appeared to be constructed of the same stone as the walls and floor. Dusty chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs were hung every few feet, the candles in them long unlit. The same went for the metal sconces on the walls.

He appeared to be lying in the middle of an aisle bordered on either side by what he could only assume was the wooden something he’d been thrown int—

No. Not just wood. Pews.

Xavier struggled into a sitting position, heedless of his broken bones and desire for inconspicuousness in his rush to confirm his suspicions, to confirm what he already knew.

Panic rose in his chest as he saw the cross silhouetted in stark relief against the waning sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass window.

They were in a church.

Had this been any other time on any other day Zagan wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to mock and use his son’s fear against him. Xavier’s childhood memories of being harrowed and abused by his stepmother and local priest amused him to no end but on this day, he didn’t so much as comment.

He just stalked down the aisle toward Xavier and slammed him back against the floor with a flick of his hand.

“After all,” he said, voice dangerously soft as he crouched beside his son. “I can hardly drop by for a visit now, can I? Not with all those wards you have on the estate that threaten to annihilate anyone who comes in unannounced.” He almost smiled. “You’ve amassed quite the bag of tricks over the last fifty years.”

Xavier could only shake his head. “The wards aren’t—”

“Aren’t what? Aren’t meant to keep me out?” Zagan scoffed, giving Xavier a dubious look as he grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head and stood. “Dear boy, do you really expect me to believe that?”

He gave Xavier’s hair a good hard yank, ignoring his son’s cries of pain as he dragged him down the aisle and deposited him on the small set of stairs leading to the altar. “You didn’t ward against me fifty years ago only because you didn’t know how to. If you had, you would’ve done it in a trice to help keep that pathetic little slave of yours out of my grasp, but I’m sure that’s already occurred to you.”

Indignation fought its way in beside pain and panic, and Zagan noticed. His son’s emotions had always been pitifully easy to read, moreso when they ran as profoundly as he knew this did. The servant was still a sore spot even after all this time.

Zagan paused.

“Had you realized?” he asked, crouching again to run a single finger down Xavier’s cheek, those ancient eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “That this year marks the fiftieth anniversary? Had you realized, my beautiful boy, that half a century had passed since you came so close to defying me?”

Fifty years of pain and rage and grief so rarely expressed churned in Xavier’s gut and pulled at his soul. That his father could speak so cavalierly of Maximus and his loss made him want to scream and be ill in equal measure.

Had he realized? How could he not, when every day for the past year and a half had been a battle against remembering? How could he not, when every day he walked halls and sat in rooms identical to those Maximus had once drawn breath in, only to remember that they had burnt to the ground?

How could he not, when dead leaves and rose petals and ash were still enough to bring him to tears?

The same tears that streamed down his face now. Xavier was powerless to stop them and even if he could have, he likely wouldn’t have. After what he’d done to Maximus, an acknowledgement of his grief was the least Xavier could give him, even if his father was the only one who witnessed it.

“Oh my, look at that.” Zagan stroked his son’s face again, collecting those tears and rubbing the moisture between his fingers. He tsked, shaking his head. “My dear, it’s been an absolute age since then. How can a measly little servant still cause all this upset, hm? There now.”

Zagan slipped one arm under Xavier’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting and carrying him the rest of the way up the steps as if he weighed absolutely nothing. He gathered Xavier close, even took care not to jostle him too much.

Such loving gestures were not uncommon for the old demon. There were times in Hell when he had been the absolute image of gentleness and paternal affection, when he had held him as he did now and given him a reprieve from the torture.

But more torture had always followed. Showing him affection was rarely meant to comfort; it was meant to torment.

“I’m sure you feel like the past few decades have been a trial, but you see, I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.” Zagan set Xavier down as carefully as he’d picked him up, petting his hair as that indignant look returned to his son’s expression. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t doubt you’ve suffered a great deal over your servant. I don’t see why you would when they’re so readily available, but I don’t doubt it. I just think you haven’t quite…put things in perspective.”

With of wave of his father’s hand, every sconce, chandelier, and candelabra flickered to life, allowing Xavier his first real look at the derelict church. Not that there was much to see. No one had set foot in here for a very long time, let alone used it as a place of worship.

But when he turned his head, Xavier saw something that made his blood run cold.

Until now he’d felt trepidation, resentment, emotional anguish. Only when he saw the lines of a demon trap scorched into the threadbare carpet beneath him did he finally feel fear.

“Father…?”

“You see, my dear, I don’t think you realize how easy you got off all those years ago.” Zagan shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Father, please—”

Zagan knelt beside him. “My own son considers rebelling against me, disobeying me, gives a servant pride of place over his father, and what does he have to pay for it? Absolutely nothing.” He unbuttoned Xavier’s suit jacket and shirt, undid his trousers. “My son defies his father and still he gets to keep his estate, his businesses, his treasures. His life. All these things my son gets to keep, he goes virtually without punishment for fifty years, and does he realize that? Does it occur to him how generous his father has been in his infinite mercy? No. Rather than show gratitude, he has the childish audacity to believe he is the aggrieved party!”

Xavier didn’t see Zagan move. There was just an awful squelching sound, then searing pain as his father, having pierced his torso with a bare hand, sliced it upward and gutted him like a fish from groin to sternum.

“Which doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed your efforts,” Zagan said calmly above the echoing din of his son’s screams. Casually. “You’ve been such a good boy, treating your papa to afternoon tea and accompanying him for a walk. But I have been far too lax with you. You see that, don’t you?”

He gripped the jagged edges of Xavier’s wound and forced them apart to another chorus of screams. “All those wards, the prolonged absence.” Zagan shook his head. “There comes a point where it all gets to be a bit too much. What’s that expression? Getting too big for your britches? I think you’ll agree you got too big for yours a very long time ago. What’s more, I think you’ll agree that it’s high time that you paid the piper.”

Zagan got to his feet and made his way over to the wooden table beneath the stained-glass window at the head of the altar. He retrieved a hammer, a covered metal bowl, and a set of railroad spikes and brought them over to the demon trap, kneeling again.

Xavier could only watch him, borderline delirious as his chest heaved and his wounds bled. He didn’t dare lift his head to look at the damage; he’d seen enough of his own insides in Hell.

There was a vague hope that his blood would break the demon trap and allow him to get away, but he knew it was impossible even as he thought it. Zagan had prepared for this.

There was no getting away, especially once the first spike was hammered through one of his feet, piercing shoe leather, flesh, and carpet as it was driven into the stone beneath. Xavier bit back another scream, only to give in as his father pinned his arm above his head and drove the second spike into his hand.

“A necessary precaution,” Zagan explained, moving around to repeat the process on Xavier’s other side, barely reacting to the scent of demonic flesh charred by iron. “To make things easier for both of us. Remember what I always used to tell you?”

The third and fourth spikes were driven into Xavier’s free hand and foot, rendering him not quite immobile, but significantly limiting his range of motion. He was left completely vulnerable to Zagan.

“Well?”

He turned toward his father. The demon was looking at him expectantly, warmly—a complete contrast to that cold smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes.

“The more you struggle,” Xavier began, breathing raggedly, “the more it will hurt.”

“That’s exactly right. Good boy.” Zagan bent to kiss his brow and set the hammer aside. “Now be a love and stay still for your papa while he works.”

“What are you going to do?” Asked in a voice too soft and timid to belong to a demon.

“I thought you might ask. You see, I needed to come up with an appropriate punishment.” Zagan reached into his abdominal cavity and tore out a chunk of his liver, placing it on the carpet beside him while his son howled in agony. The shock and blood loss weren’t enough to kill him, of course, but there would be a great deal of both before Zagan was done.

“It had to fit the crime, else how could the lesson be truly felt?” His stomach joined his liver, spilling its bloody contents as it hit the floor with a sickening plop.

Xavier hadn’t felt pain like this since Hell. He wondered for a moment if he was in Hell. That endless red sky and the ceiling of the church blurred together in his mind while the stone under his back became the rocky banks of that boiling river of blood. He heard a scream—or perhaps a thousand—but no longer registered it as his own.

When his father spoke, he heard it as only an echo.

“I mentioned taking your estate and your belongings but upon reflection, that wouldn’t be a practical solution to the problem. You could always acquire more, and really, what do I want with a bunch of wine and trinkets and land?” The other half of his liver followed, then his spleen and pancreas, all added to the growing pile of viscera.

Zagan turned to Xavier, whose screams had quieted to pained whimpers as he began coughing up torrents of blood. “No matter how you look at it, it would only be an inconvenience to us both. An inconvenience, not a punishment. That was when I realized that there was something I could take from you that would serve as an appropriate punishment.”

The old demon reached into Xavier’s body with both hands this time, ripping through sheet after sheet of connective tissue as he worked to tear out Xavier’s intestines. Messy work but very necessary, although he did find himself wishing he’d brought a blade to speed up the process. But that’s what happened when one was forced to move with haste; things were bound to be forgotten.

To Xavier, that process seemed to take hours. Perhaps it did. He couldn’t help but think it would’ve been kinder to just kill him.

His only comfort was that the shock setting in made his body go almost numb, a small mercy for which he gave profound thanks. It was liable to be the only one he got. He only wished he could go deaf as well, or better yet, fall into blessed unconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to listen to or feel the rending of his flesh.

More hopes he knew would be dashed.

Such was Zagan’s concentration on his task that he fell silent. Humans did have such a lot of parts, but he had gotten most of it. It would do.

He gathered the slippery mass in his hands, considering adding them to the pile before deciding to simply drop them on his son’s lap. They didn’t need to be removed entirely, just moved out of the way.

“Right,” he sighed, looking around at his handiwork while he gathered his thoughts. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Your punishment.”

Zagan scooted a bit closer and tenderly took Xavier’s face in his hands, smiling beatifically as he stroked his son’s cheeks and smeared that handsome face with blood. “I believe you’ve lived in poor dead Christian for quite long enough, my precious one. Don’t you?”

For the second time since this ordeal began, panic took hold of Xavier. Not just a trickle of it, but huge, violent waves that made his adrenaline surge and had him struggling against his restraints despite the burning pain of the iron.

Please, God, let him not have heard correctly. Surely it was the delirium, the blood loss making him think his father had said what Xavier thought he’d just said. Or if had said it, perhaps Xavier just didn’t understand his meaning. It could mean anything, everything. Too much. Was it to be his life, a return to Hell? Was it—

“Settle down, Xavier,” Zagan chided, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “What did we say, hm? The more you struggle the more it will hurt, and this is going to hurt quite enough without you thrashing about like a landed fish. Settle.”

“Wh-what is?” Xavier’s voice was a raspy, choked sound, devoid of its usual elegance. For all that he struggled—or tried to, before pain and fatigue forced him to stillness—it was a battle to get out every single word. “Fath…father. What are y-you going…?”

“What am I going to do?”

At his son’s jerky nod, Zagan smiled and stroked his face again. “Just what I said. You’ve been living in Christian Deidrich’s body for far too long and it’s time for a change.”

“But w-what—”

“I’m going to take you out of Christian, Xavier. You will be removed from this vessel and placed into a new one.”

Xavier looked at this father in abject horror for a few silent, eternal moments before panic and adrenaline flooded back in with a vengeance.

He began to struggle to free himself in earnest as his father’s words and their full implications sank in. Whatever he’d suffered so far—gut-wrenching reminders of the past, the sear of iron, the removal of his organs—it would be nothing compared to what he knew awaited him now.

At this very moment, even the full weight of what it meant to lose Christian as his vessel couldn’t hold a candle to Xavier’s fear.

This reaction pleased Zagan immensely, and unlike before, he was perfectly happy to let Xavier wear himself out. In this weakened state it was all he’d manage to do, which would only make things easier once the real work began.

Besides, even if by some chance Xavier did tear the wounds around the spikes and freed himself, he was still inside the trap. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Zagan hummed to himself, giving his son’s cheek one last pat before getting to his feet.

One by one, he brought candelabras over to the altar. Not many remained after so many years of the church having been abandoned, but they were enough to give him the light he needed. The larger ones were placed around the perimeter of the trap and the smallest just inside. A single candlestick was placed beside Xavier.

Had he been able to, Xavier would’ve knocked that stupid candle over and set fire to the rug. Something his father probably would’ve considered if he wasn’t so obviously confident that it wouldn’t happen.

Xavier couldn’t deny that he was right to be. Already he was exhausted to the point of giving up. Physically, at least.

“Father…” he wheezed. “Plea…please…don’t—don’t do this to me…”

“Ahhh, I see we’ve moved from anger to bargaining,” Zagan chuckled, returning to his son’s side. “I understand, of course. A new face will be an adjustment after so many decades spent looking at the same reflection in the mirror, but don’t worry, my dear one. You’ll get used it.”

Xavier shook his head, swallowing back more tears. He didn’t want to get used to it. He wanted to remain in his body. No matter how mangled it was, it was his, and leaving it would mean suffering beyond measure in more ways than one.

“The spell…”

His father nodded patiently. “Yes, yes, I know. You locked yourself in. An excellent notion, truly. After all, one can never know who does and does not know an exorcism rite. No doubt it would have spoiled your fun if in the middle of a hunt, your quarry dispatched you back to Hell.”

Zagan stroked his hair again. “Pity that your good judgement should have to hurt you now.”

Tears began to flow freely again as Xavier tugged at his restraints with all the might he had left. It was precious little. “Fat-ther, please…please d-don’t…please…”

“Hush now. Begging won’t save you, Xavier.” Zagan picked up the bowl that until now had sat untouched beside the revolting mess of entrails. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered from the very fact that you’re able to be here, the church we are currently in is no longer consecrated ground. Faith left this place…” he shrugged, “a century ago, perhaps more. But despite that, there is one thing I’m so terribly curious to know.”

He removed the lid. “I wonder…despite the decades of absent devotion…if this water is still holy enough to hurt you.”

“N-nononono wait, don’t—!”

An awful steaming hiss drowned out his protests as Zagan slowly began pouring the bowl’s contents into Xavier’s abdominal cavity.

“You’re making it worse,” he said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the cacophony of tortured screams and howls of demonic pain.

His admonishment fell on deaf ears. The moment the first drop of holy water had touched his mutilated insides, Xavier had begun thrashing about in a desperate, mindless effort to escape from the torment.

Exhaustion had no hope of stilling his movements, even if those movements caused the water to splash and slosh about and cause even more pain. This was beyond the physical, beyond the human. Short of an exorcism this was the greatest suffering that could be inflicted on a demon, and Xavier had the great misfortune of knowing that was precisely what awaited him next.

He screamed, he sobbed, he begged his father to stop. At some point he even succeeded in tearing free of two of the spikes. But still the ordeal continued and would until the bowl was empty.

It would continue even when the bowl was empty, because for all that Xavier had moved about, a good deal of holy water remained on and inside of him. As long as it did, nothing would stop the screaming.

“Shhhh, darling, shhhh,” Zagan cooed at his son, pulling out the spikes that still restrained Xavier’s limbs so he could turn him on his side and empty out the water. It had completed its intended purpose and was thus no longer required.

He eased Xavier onto his back again and picked up the candlestick. “Right. I would very much like to say that’s the worst of it over, but we both know that’s not the case. Tell me, should I bother asking where you carved it?”

Although agonized groans and broken sobs had replaced blood-curdling screams, Xavier wasn’t in any condition to listen to his father, much less respond.

“I thought not. No matter. I have a fair idea which rite you used, and I believe that particular one calls for the inscription to be placed on the spine.”

At last, the true reason for the evisceration revealed.

Zagan brought the candle close to the gaping void that was Xavier’s torso, using its light to find exactly where the spell had been carved into the bone—a slightly easier task now that the holy water had rinsed out most of the blood.

“Ah, there it is.” Zagan tried to make out the symbols to confirm his suspicions. “What did I tell you?” he chuckled, setting aside the candlestick. “Predictable.”

Xavier had been left even weaker than before. His chest barely rose. His skin, already pale from loss of blood, looked gray and lifeless. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t burning in agony. The dread and fear and grief he should have felt eighty-six years ago when the hangman’s noose had been placed around his neck fell upon him now, far more heavily than they would have then.

Still, he had to try just one more time.

With what little strength he had left, Xavier turned to his father. “Please,” he begged, the barely audible whisper ragged and frail. “Father. Please…please don-n’t. You don’t—don’t kn-now…” he gasped for breath, “…what you—you’re take…tak-king…”

There was a beat of silence during which Xavier thought, just for a second, his father looked apologetic.

“But I do,” Zagan murmured, taking Xavier’s bloody, tear-stained face in his hands. He stayed like that for several moments, studying his child’s features one last time. He loved this face. It gave him no pleasure to destroy it. “I know exactly what I’m taking. My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

He bent to place a tender kiss on Xavier’s forehead. “Don’t fret. The pain won’t last. You’ll still be beautiful, I promise. I could never take that from you. You’ll even look like your brother.” He kissed Xavier’s forehead again, his brow, his cheeks, allowing them both the indulgence of true affection for just a moment.

Perhaps it would offer some comfort in the days to come.

Sighing, Zagan took the candlestick again and made another examination of the spell his son had used to lock himself in. It was simple, but perfectly effective against exorcisms and other such attempts to dislodge a demon from their vessel.

The symbols themselves were spread across four vertebrae and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be burned into the bone rather than inscribed. He had no doubt the process had been rather painful; things like this always were.

He reached in and carefully tore the first vertebra from Xavier’s spine, ensuring he removed only bone and nothing else.

Painful, yes, but not as painful as its reversal. Not in his hands.

Zagan recited a small incantation under his breath, brushing his thumb back and forth over the symbols as if merely rubbing away a bit of dust. With every swipe the symbols grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but clean, unmarred bone.

He held it up to the candlelight and examined it again. Pleased, he tossed it away and pulled out the next one.

Xavier, no longer strong enough to scream, could only groan and sob as his father ripped yet more parts out of his body, overwhelmed by fear and pain.

But there was another sensation as well; an odd, supernatural pull somewhere deep inside his being. It seemed to exist independently of the pain, and had nothing to do with what was happening to him physically.

It did, however, have everything to do with what was happening to him magically. This body, having been technically dead for so many decades, was dying again. In all reality it had already died again, and as his father methodically did away with his lock, Xavier’s hold inside his vessel began to loosen.

By the time the last vertebra was torn from his spine and the symbols on it erased, that hold was all but nonexistent.

“There we are,” said Zagan, sighing again as he smiled to himself. “Now the real work begins.”

Even if he’d been inclined to bother with an exorcism, it was no longer necessary. Given enough time Xavier would be forced to leave Christian’s body on his own, but Zagan wasn’t inclined to wait.

Instead, he reached into his son’s abdominal cavity one last time, thrusting through dead flesh and fractured bone and into the very core of him, physical and metaphysical, feeling around until his hand closed around what he sought.

Making sure to maintain an iron grip on his prize, Zagan ripped Xavier free from what remained of his moorings. When Zagan’s hand emerged, bloody and singed, it held a cloud of oily black smoke that crackled with electricity.

There were no anguished screams to mark this final parting, no sobs or desperate pleas to echo off the stone.

There was only the burnt out, mutilated husk of a body, the scent of sulfur, and a cloud of oily black smoke.

Zagan smiled at the smoke and released it, leaving it free but still stuck inside the demon trap, before pushing the husk out of the way to give himself more room to work.

What came next would require every last ounce of his will and concentration. This was magic he did not inherently possess, and if he could not see his vision clearly, if he could not believe in it wholly, it would not bear fruit.

He closed his eyes, steeling his will as he began to draw every bit of energy in the room outside his own toward him, no matter how small. The remnants of Xavier’s emotion, the electricity of a demon in true form, the lifeforce of the plants surrounding the church—all were taken and absorbed.

Even the candles were drawn in, extinguishing themselves one by one as Zagan pulled their heat and energy close, inserting his will and chanting ancient magic to manipulate the mass of energy to his whim.

And there, in the middle of the demon trap, it slowly began to take form. A single point of light that pulsed and grew as yet more light surrounded and encased it, becoming a womb for an old demon’s creation.

With every pulse, the air shimmered as it regained its charge, making Zagan’s skin prickle and burn to the point of pain. But still he did not buckle, digging even deeper and giving even more of himself as he watched the light become something at once both liquid and solid, something that elongated and molded itself until it resembled a human body.

Almost done.

He looked up at where the cloud of smoke hovered above his head. It would be cleaner to do it in one fell swoop. Faster. Even for a being as old as he was, keeping this level of concentration took its toll. Mere seconds could be the difference between success and miserable failure.

The new vessel was almost complete; the moment it was, he would draw Xavier into it and seal him inside. He had to move quickly, but gingerly, with the precision of a surgeon.

Zagan took a deep breath. Clenching one hand as tightly as he could to hold his creation in place, he used the other to draw his child down and guide him into his new vessel.

A different kind of light began emanating from the body as it was slowly given life. Zagan grit his teeth against the strain as it grew in strength, as he was pushed to the very edge of his limits by the effort of controlling so much raw energy.

No sooner had the last wisp of black smoke disappeared from view than the light burned out with enough force to shatter every window in the crumbling church.

Zagan fell back, utterly exhausted but brimming with triumphant hubris as he gazed upon his creation. His vision, made flesh.

It was perfect.

Zagan spent a few moments catching his breath and recuperating some of his strength, after which he got to his feet to gather himself. He adjusted his sleeves and went to retrieve his coat, brushing off bits of colored glass before slipping it back on. He placed the bowl and the candlestick back on their table, took a piece of glass and sliced through the carpet, breaking the demon trap.

And when he finally approached the unconscious, supine body that now belonged to Xavier, and watched as he drew his first breath, Zagan bent to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Perhaps now you’ll learn,” he whispered. “My beautiful boy.”

A rustle of wings, and Xavier was left alone in the darkness.

#Waiting for a Tuesday self para

20 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 13

I just had to sneak in one more part before the big showdown tonight. Aside from this, the card for Resurgence looks awesome!

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 2,897

Content advisory: sexual content (not as graphic as previous parts, but still more than just mentions), language

Previous sections (and the prequel) available on the Master List

This is completely normal, you tell yourself. He has a big match tomorrow. He needs a clear head and sleep and, as he’s fond of telling you, he doesn’t get either of those things when the two of you are together. It makes sense that he’d want to spend tonight at his own place, by himself.

So why do you feel like something horrible is happening?

You close your eyes but the second you do, you get a vision ofJay lifting David limp body off the mat. You can still hear that awful crack of David’s unprotected skull hitting the chair and immediately you feel sick to your stomach, just as you had when you’d watched the moment unfold. You were as powerless then as you are now to change it. All you could do was follow the assistants who’d come to help him to the medic’s room.

By the time they got him back there, there was already a red welt visible on his forehead. He was barely conscious, growling at anyone who tried to help him until you approached. He hadn’t said anything, just leaned into your body and let his head fall on your shoulder. He wasn’t aware enough to notice that you were crying, even when a few of your tears dripped onto his skin.

You’d held him tight until the doctor arrived, her expression doing nothing to ease your mind. Nevertheless, after a thorough check, she pronounced that he wasn’t concussed and wasn’t injured beyond the obvious bumps and bruises. Not physically at least.

Of course, you’d insisted that he come back to your place where you could keep an eye on him and take care of the wounds he had sustained. Well, you hadn’t really had to insist. He was happy to go along, laughing at the way you tried to do everything for him. It became a rather hilarious tug of war, you trying everything to keep him still and him doing everything to annoy you, getting himself a bottle of water from the fridge, trying to make something for dinner until you’d literally smacked his ass repeatedly with a spatula, which had you both laughing so hard you almost fell down.

Getting him into bed was a battle, too, and once you got him undressed and relaxed, he’d immediately started to get frisky. He kept insisting that he was fine and had ended up spending time both last night and the first part of the day today showing you just how fine he was.

“I can’t wait until this weekend is over,” he hissed into your skin during one intimate moment.

You’d agreed because, despite the fact that there are other shows and other matches coming up, there does seem to be a sense of finality around their showdown this weekend. Sure after this, Jay’s going to calm down or get distracted and he won’t be so determined to screw with your lives.

“Never again,” Jay had fairly shrieked, sitting on David’s chest, clinging on to his belt. “You will never beat me again.”

Sure, his words made perfect sense within the context of their fight for the belt and Jay’s determination to avenge his loss months ago. But you knew that wasn’t it. The animalistic way they’d stared each other down before the fight, the rush to get started. Jay always loved to tease confronting an enemy but backed out at the last seconds toying with them until he was convinced he’d rattled their nerves. Not last night. He and David had gone right after each other, brawling like they were in a bar.

Thinking of that reminds you of a night you haven’t thought about in years, back in their early days, your early days, in the dojo. It’s not a night you should remember at all, given the condition you were in but you remember it, or at least the end of it, perfectly.

The three of you had been out drinking. Drinking a lot. You’d stumbled back to your barracks leaning on one another to form some sort of solid mass that could stay upright. You’d still ended up tumbling a few times, which was hardly surprising. You must have all had some kind of homing instinct because none of you could tell where the hell you were.

You knew that by the time you made it back, the door would be locked but your super power at that time was that you were small enough and flexible enough to get through the window in the kitchen that was stuck open. You’d needed a boost from the guys, which had taken a couple of efforts, but you were eventually able to scramble through and unlock the front door, albeit after crashing into so many things and making so much noise that there was no way anyone slept through it.

Your room was in another area of the building but you’d just headed to their room. You’d passed out on the floor on several occasions, always on the floor even though you’d already started sleeping with Jay by that point. The two of you were half-assed pretending that nothing was happening, even though you’d very quietly fool around before falling asleep.

You’d been keeping things a secret to avoid gossip but also, at least on your part, because you hadn’t wanted to hurt David. It was clear already that he was sweet on you and you’d figured that as long as it wasn’t right there out in the open, you could pretend that there was no reason for him to feel hurt. Later on, you’d confide in him about how miserable Jay was making you, but at that point, things were still fun, still inconsequential.

In retrospect, you realize this period must have been agony for him. Jay was a braggart and had advertised his conquest to his roommate pretty much right away, but from there, you’d all pretended that nothing was happening. It’s only been in the last few weeks that you found out just how much and how early he’d liked you. Going through that must have sucked.

But on that particular night, there was no problem because you were all feeling no pain, either physical or emotional. You’d ended up crawling up the stairs on all fours, basically pulling both of them along with you. Jay had informed you loudly that he needed to take a piss and you and David had somehow made it back to their room.

It was dark, which meant the two of you were stumbling all over the place, but eventually David had flopped down onto his bed and turned on the lamp that stood on the shelf just above it. Unfortunately, as he did so, he’d knocked the lamp backward and left it hanging precariously, wedged between the headboard and the wall.

“David, get the light!” You’d been laughing so hard you could barely get the words out. There were tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled, laughing as much as his semi-conscious body would let him.

“It’s not ok, David, you have to get the lamp because it’s going to…” You could not for the life of you remember the word “fall” in that moment.

After a few more seconds, you’d gone over to retrieve the lamp yourself, not that you were particularly graceful at it, balancing yourself as best you could on the edge of David’s bed and placing one hand on the wall to try to keep steady, all while trying not to collapse onto David’s chuckling form.

Out of nowhere, he’d snaked an arm around your leg and pulled you down onto his face, which made you both laugh even harder. You’d been giggling as he clumsily pushed your panties out of the way and started licking you with sloppy enthusiasm.

“Oh my god, David, what the hell,” you laughed. “That tickles!”

Maybe you would have told him to stop, or he just would have passed out in the middle of what he was doing because he was just that loaded, but before either of those things could happen, you’d been interrupted.

“What the fuck?” Jay was standing unsteadily in the doorway.

You’d tried to shush him as you fell back a little, sitting on David’s chest. He was laughing too but Jay decidedly was not.

“What are you, eating her pussy?”

You’d just cracked up laughing. David hadn’t opened his eyes, just grinned in a drunk, goofy way and responded, “I don’t know. Sort of?”

“Turn the light off,” Jay snapped.

“I’m trying to!” Another wave of laughter rolled over you as you’d pondered the ridiculousness of not being able to turn off a light.

“Turn the fucking light off!” Jay yelled.

He gave it a hard kick and shattered the bulb, solving the problem. He’d helped you stand up and although you couldn’t see him well, you’d felt like David was already unconscious as Jay led you over to his bed.

He’d pushed you down and started pulling your clothes away, which was unusual. Part of trying to keep things secret was learning how to fool around without getting naked and being as quiet as possible. But that night, Jay had been insistent about getting you naked. He’d been rough and he’d been loud. And he’d bit and pinched and scratched at you until you were loud as well. If you hadn’t managed to wake everyone in the building up with your arrival, that must have done the trick.

The only person it didn’t disturb was David, whose light snoring you could hear while you were going at it.

Jay had never been one to stare into your eyes and focus intently on you during sex, not back then at least. He’d look at you, then away, like he was thinking of what he could do next, or what he could get you to do. But as you remember the night now, you realize that his eyes flickered repeatedly towards the other bed, vibrant with anger. You knew that Jay had come to see you as one of his belongings during the time that you’d been working for him, but it’s only now that you realize how early that had started. Even then, when he’d been very clear that the two of you were not exclusive, he’d been livid at the idea that someone else would touch what was his.

The son of a bitch would have known that David was hung up on you, too. He’d done his best to make sure that he’d hear him fucking you right there in the room, like David didn’t even exist. David who at that point was still his best friend.

You don’t know if David woke up while all this was happening. You hope he didn’t. Although he’d apologized for what he called “his behavior” the next day, you’ve never been sure how much he remembers. Certainly by this point, it might have faded from his memory entirely. You hope that’s the case. You hope he doesn’t remember it anything like the way you do.

In his position, you don’t know if you’d ever be able to trust you, to believe that your emotions weren’t contaminated or at least inconsistent. You can’t believe that doubts don’t start to creep in the second you’re out of his sight, which is why, although it’s understandable that he’d want to spend the night by himself tonight, you feel worried. The second he starts thinking about how many problems you’re causing and how much he’s had to deal with for years because of you, he’s likely to move to Siberia just to ensure he never sees you again.

And as if you weren’t capable of driving yourself crazy with anxiety on your own, Jay’s trying his best to make it worse. Since you are the talent liaison for New Japan in America and Jay is a New Japan performer currently working in America, you’re no longer allowed to stop him from accessing you and tonight, he’s apparently decided to take full advantage of that.

Your phone lights up to indicate another text message. You check every time because it could be David, or someone actually trying to contact you for work, as opposed to what Jay’s doing, which is trying to drive you right out of your mind. But it seems like no one has anything to say to you except Jay.

Are you alone or do you have to take care of your boy tonight?

I hope you’re not wearing him out. I want him to remember how easy it is for me to beat him even at his best. And I know how you can be.

Try not to think about me when you two are going at it.

If he’s not there, come over. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you do.

You know I can get women whenever I want but I never stop thinking about the filthy things I’d like to do to you.

Play the good girl all you want, I know you’re going to be thinking about that last text for hours. I’ll bet you’ll even touch yourself.

Send pictures when you do. No reason for us not to enjoy ourselves.

Wonder how he’d react if I told him you were coming over. Guess I could find out. Not like he’d know I was lying. Or maybe I’m not lying?

That last one does it. You can’t just ignore that because you don’t know if he’s going to make good on the threat. So you type back the only two words you can think of: STOP IT.

Ha. I knew you weren’t sleeping. And I’ll bet your sweet prince is back at his place because he wants to be focused for tomorrow. Poor boy denying himself his last meal.

You flinch and respond again in all capital letters: I MEAN IT. KNOCK IT OFF.

You’re tense. You should definitely come over. I’ll give you a back rub.

You should have just let him keep texting and gone to sleep, not that you can sleep because you’re so tense about things with David and the fact that Jay’s threatening to ruin them. Now you’re caught in one of his mazes that you can never seem to find your way out of.

Fine, you’re not coming over. Phone sex?

NO.

Come on, it’s probably the one thing we haven’t done before. Call me.

NO. GOD WILL YOU JUST STOP? I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.

I know how to help you calm down. Call.

Ok, seriously, let me help you relax. We don’t have to talk about you putting my dick in your mouth.

You roll your eyes and answer: Nothing with you relaxes me.

Seriously, I have a technique.

NO.

You’re no fun. Think I’ll bug Super Dave for a bit.

You don’t even text him back. You call because at least if he’s on the phone, he can’t be texting David to tell him god knows what.

“Well this is a nice surprise,” he purrs.

“You can’t do this. I need to sleep. Hell, you need to sleep. Just let it go, Jay.”

“I don’t really need to be well rested to beat Finlay. He got lucky the one time. Even you don’t believe he’s good enough to beat me twice.”

“Maybe I don’t care if he wins or not. Maybe I’ll be happy because I get to be with him one way or the other.”

“I’ll bet he cares.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No, come on, I promised I’d help you sleep and now you’re even more worked up.”

You try to think of a smart comeback but you can’t. He waits a minute before continuing.

“Are you lying down?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes.”

“It’s purely professional interest, I promise.” You can hear a dark laugh buried in his voice. “Lay flat on your back and close your eyes.”

You’re not sure why but you do as he says. You do need to sleep and maybe the bastard actually can help with that.

“I want you to breathe all the way in, really slowly, through your nose.”

You give it a shot and he immediately interrupts.

“Don’t do it like you’re angry at me. Soft and slow, until your lungs feel full.”

You comply, fighting to keep from getting angry at him.

“Ok, now exhale very slowly through your mouth. All the way.” When he’s satisfied you’ve done that properly, he continues, “Keep doing that, as slow as you can manage. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You can’t deny that you can feel your body start to relax after only a few repetitions.

“Now take your hand and place it over your face, right along the hairline. Just barely let your fingers touch your skin. Then run your hand down your face, all the way to your neck. Keep your touch as light as you can.”

The sensation makes you shiver but as much as you feel like your nerves are being activated, you also feel like you’re pulling the tension out of your body. He tells you to repeat this gesture a few times, always keeping your breathing slow and even.

“Good night princess,” he whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead before you can say anything.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #impact wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

16 notes · View notes

captainscanadian · 3 years

Text

Long Way Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

MY MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Summary: They meet again.

Word Count: 2200+

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Steve Rogers, Nurse!Wanda Maximoff, Doctor!Pietro Maximoff

Warnings: Heart Disease, Hospital, Surgery.

A/N: Give it up for another clusterfuck from yours truly. Thanks again to my dearest @dramadreamer14 for the beta, as always. I haven’t written two parts in a day since a year ago so I got really excited to post this one. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS! Divider by @firefly-graphics <3

The moment he landed in Boston, Bucky Barnes decided to scratch his initial plan of heading to his new apartment, and instead took a cab from the airport to Massachusetts General Hospital. Despite the fact that he was not supposed to be starting his new job until the following week, receiving that email from Dr. Y/L/N about the Stark method patient had made him rather eager to get to work. Perhaps he was getting a little ahead of himself, but then again, he knew himself better than anyone else. There was no way he could have sat alone in his apartment for an entire week with his inherent need to operate.

Not that he was expecting to operate immediately after he arrived at the hospital, given that the patient he had been wanting to work with was refusing surgery after all. If this patient had refused to let Tony Stark operate on her again, he knew that he would have a much more difficult time trying to convince her to let him operate on her. But Bucky was not someone who would walk away from a challenge, and this case was as challenging as it got.

When he arrived at the hospital, he rushed inside and headed straight up to the Heart Center. He knew that he should probably check in with the new Chief of Surgery, maybe even inform him that his best friend had landed safely in Boston. But he had just been too eager to make it to his consultation, and he could see Steve when he was done.

“Hi, I’m looking for Dr. Y/L/N’s office.” Bucky greeted the red haired woman at the Nurses’ Desk with a rather polite smile.

Wanda Maximoff raised her eyebrow at the man who had just approached her, rolling her eyes as she was pulled away from her emails to give him directions. “I’m sorry, who?” She asked, as the only Dr. Y/L/N she knew did not work here at the Heart Center.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N? She requested a consult with me this afternoon. She should be expecting me.” He replied. “I’m Dr. James Barnes. I’m the new Chief of Cardio.”

The moment those words slipped through his mouth, Wanda found herself rising from her seat. “O-Oh… you’re… you’re the man of the house. I’m so sorry!” She was certain that he wasn’t supposed to be starting until next week. Had he come here incognito to spy on the department before he was going to take charge? No, that couldn’t be possible. He had just told her his name. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s… it’s just been a long day. My apologies, Dr. Barnes.”

Bucky let out a soft chuckle at her words and shook his head. “Hey, it’s no problem. I know I shouldn’t be here for a few days, but Dr. Y/L/N requested an emergency consult. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Um…” The nurse bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, not knowing how to break this to him. “Dr. Y/L/N doesn’t work here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, she doesn’t work here at the Heart Center.” She clarified. “Dr. Y/L/N is the Director of Neonatal Surgery. She runs the Newborn Developmental Follow-Up Clinic next door.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide at the response. “What?”

First things first, it came as a surprise to him that a neonatal surgeon had requested a consult with him. After all, he specialized in Adult Congenital Heart Diseases, so naturally he was equipped to run Tony’s department following his retirement. Second of all, why was a neonatal surgeon requesting a consult for an adult patient?

“You’ll be able to find her in the Blake Building next door. Would you like me to direct you there?” Wanda asked. “It’s not a long walk from here…”

“Uh… no, I think I got it.” Bucky smiled politely at the woman. “But I would appreciate it if you could direct me to my office.” He was here, after all. He might as well get started with work.

“Oh yes, of course.” She nodded, sitting back down in her seat. “Just give me one moment. I’ll just need to activate your key card and get you to sign a bunch of paperwork. Dr. Rogers gave me special instructions on which photo of yours to use for your profile.”

Bucky let out a rather exhausted sigh. “Oh did he really?” He asked before shaking his head.

“He said you insisted.”

He leaned against the counter before shaking his head once again. “That punk.”

“Is it true that you both attended Columbia together?” Wanda asked, rather curiously. “Word travels fast around this hospital.”

“Yeah, we did. We grew up together, actually. I’ve known him since I was twelve years old.” He replied.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Knowing someone when you’re a kid, and then having to work with them when you’re adults?” She remarked, closing her emails for a moment so that she could activate Dr. Barnes’ key card.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, curiously. “Because you do sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“My fraternal twin, he works as a pediatric cardiologist. You'd think I'd gotten rid of him once I graduated from nursing school. But he went off to med school, and came back to work right here in this department. It’s quite the humbling experience." She explained, chuckling softly. “I know a thing or two about working with your best friend, but working for your best friend? I don’t know if I can help you with that, doc.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He nodded, laughing softly. “You know, I never got your name.”

“Wanda Maximoff.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Wanda.”

Following the formalities that needed to be completed before he could be let into his office, Dr. James Barnes eventually found himself logging onto his office computer and searching up a certain ‘Dr. Y/N Y/L/N’.

Her employee profile on the hospital’s website stated that she was a triple board certified Neonatal Surgeon, and the Director of Neonatal Surgery. He had come across a series of articles on congenital heart diseases she had published in the medical journal within the last few years. Her LinkedIn profile mentioned that she had attended Harvard Medical School, and graduated Summa Cum Laude.

As impressive as her credentials were, what caught his attention was not any of her accomplishments. It was the photo of her on her profile, and the familiarity that he felt upon seeing her eyes. For a moment, Bucky wondered if there was a time when their paths would have crossed. Perhaps, they had met at a conference of some sort, given that they both specialized in congenital heart diseases. But then again, if they had met recently, he would remember her, wouldn’t he?

But as he pondered about where he would have met Dr. Y/L/N, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a knock on his door.

“Come in.” Bucky called out, quickly closing all of his tabs.

Steve Rogers stepped into his best friend’s office with a rather disappointed look on his face. “What in the goddamn world are you doing here, ya jerk?”

“Nice to see you too, punk.” He chuckled, rising from his seat to pull him into an embrace. “I was going to come by your office, but I’ve got to head out for a consult in a bit.”

“A consult? Already?” Steve raised his brow. “Buck, you don’t start until next week.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“You’re not the boss of me.” He rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Steve was indeed his boss.

“Actually… I am.” He pointed out, a rather wide grin on his face. “All those years of being neck and neck with you and missing out on the ranks really paid off. I made Chief before you did, pal.”

“Oh don’t be so full of yourself, buddy. I only took this job because you begged me to.” He reminded him.

“Begging Is a stretch. I simply made a request.” Steve protested. “And I wanted my best friend to be closer to me.”

“Aw you missed me, pal?”

“Yeah, I did.” He admitted, a smile on his lips as he looked over at Bucky. “Best friends like you are rare to find, and easy to lose. Call me a sap all you want, Buck. But the last eight years haven’t been the same without you.”

Needless to say, Steve wasn’t the only one who could say that. Someone could say that the last thirty years hadn’t been the same without him, if she even remembered him.

Y/N’s morning had been spent doing rounds around the NICU, having barely walked around the entire floor before her feet began to ache. Two days it had been since they had started to ache, but she paid no heed to them, shrugging them off as the consequence for having stood in the OR for fifteen hours earlier that week. Unfortunately though, she knew the exact reason why her feet were aching. She was just too stubborn to accept that.

“Pietro, I’m fine!” She exclaimed as her friend sat her down on the couch in her office and removed her shoes, noticing the swelling on her ankles before he gave her a look of utter disbelief.

“You need to stop being so stubborn, Y/N.” He said, rather sternly. He wouldn’t yell at her, but he knew that she was being extremely negligent about her health ever since Dr. Stark had announced his retirement. “This isn’t normal, especially not for someone with a history of heart disease.”

She knew that he was right. She knew that she was being stubborn, and that her symptoms were not normal. But with Tony retiring, she hadn’t managed to find that kind of trust in any other doctor.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Tony’s part for her to even consider setting up a meeting with the new Chief of Cardio. But even then, she doubted if she could trust that man with her life. Perhaps her hesitance to go for surgery was not necessarily based on trust, but her own refusal to go back to the way things used to be when she had first left her hometown in Indiana and arrived in Boston at the age of five.

Y/N Y/L/N had been a patient at Massachusetts General Hospital long before she had become the Director of Neonatal Surgery. She had spent months on end being admitted in the same Pediatrics Ward where she currently worked, missing out on her life as a normal kid even though she had been surrounded by children her own age. Her normal had been different than most people, and she refused to return to that state yet again. She had come so far, and worked so hard, to go back to that dark place.

“I have a consultation with the Chief of Cardio later today, okay?” She assured him, as though it was progress in her eventually agreeing for surgery. “I’ll have a chat with him and see what we can do about this.”

Surgery was out of the question for Y/N. She was not going to have anyone cut into her chest again, not with the way her last surgery had caused her a massive lifestyle change. She had given up her entire life to ensure that she was staying healthy. But if that hadn’t been enough, then what even was the point?

“And if he suggests surgery?” Pietro questioned. “What would you do if he tells you that he needs to operate, just like Stark did?” Given her condition, even he knew that surgery was the best option.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, Pietro.” She admitted, letting out a sigh of exhaustion as she leaned back against the couch. “You should get back to work. I’m just going to put my feet up for a bit.”

God, could anyone be as stubborn as Y/N Y/L/N? Pietro Maximoff had no idea. “Okay, but don’t walk around too much. I’ll ask Romanoff if she could handle your patients for the day. Just stay in your office, okay? This isn’t a good sign.”

“I know, I know… just go.”

Pietro could only hope that she listened to him and stayed put in her office for the rest of the day, but it seemed that she had dozed off as he was leaving her office.

“If the doctors don’t fix you, then I’ll become a doctor and I’ll fix you, Bambi.”

“You would be the best doctor in the whole wide world!”

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door as Y/N found herself waking up from her nap. She checked the time on her watch to see that she hadn’t been asleep for too long. That had to be Dr. Barnes, right?

“Come on in!” She called out, quickly removing her feet from the coffee table and slipping them into her shoes.

As Bucky walked into Dr. Y/L/N’s office, there were a thousand questions that he wanted to ask her. But not even one of them was, ‘Hey Bambi, would you let me keep my promise now?’

#aj writes #long way home #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #doctor!Bucky #bucky barnes series #doctor au #doctor!steve

76 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 6

A/N Out in the open

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

You may think you understand stress, dear reader, but I can assure you that you do not. You do not understand stress unless you have driven around the city in broad daylight with a body in the trunk of your car. There was only so much guilt that a hat and sunglasses could cover.

“We should stop by the bank…take out some cash before we leave the state.” I suggested, my hands tightening on the wheel slightly as I drove.

Jonah nodded and reached into the backseat to pulled over his bag to shuffle through it. It was always full of random junk from snacks and a water bottle to notebooks and his wallet and phone charger. He carried his life in that bag. He pulled out said charger and helped himself to the port in my car to plug in his phone.

“Jo.” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t you…freaked out?” I asked.

“I am.” Jonah answered as he dropped his bag in the backseat again. “My best friend called me out of the single most important studio session of our careers to get me involved in the murder of his wife. Who wouldn’t be freaked out? Why aren’t you freaked out?”

I shifted my hands on the wheel nervously, “I-I am freaked out. I just…I don’t know what happened at all and I think I’m just in shock.”

“Do you think you killed her?” Jonah asked quietly.

I could sense the nervousness in his voice as if he was scared of me too. I honestly didn’t know what to tell him…I didn’t know what to tell myself to reassure either of us. I loved Avalon. I loved her with almost everything in me. So what would be my motive to kill her? Would our argument about my job be enough to enrage my conscious to see nothing but red?

I could only answer my best friend truthfully. After all, he risked so much to come help me.

“I don’t know.”

Jonah nodded stiffly. He probably expected that reply from me. I had been saying it all morning.

“Well, we’ll go to the bank and check out this J person at the Lincoln motel and see where that takes us.”

Jonah and I were by no means celebrities, but our jobs certainly put us in the spotlight more often than we might have liked – especially in a situation as we found ourselves in with Avalon. Owning one of the top record companies in the country was not an easy feat and the publicity that came with it often made going out in public a bit of a hassle. I couldn’t tell you how many times Avalon and I were interrupted on a date for someone to want to talk to me, slide me a demo, or – for some reason – even get my autograph. Even Hollywood Fix seemed to have a soft spot for Jonah and me.

Avalon hated paparazzi. She hated paparazzi more than any other aspect of my job honestly. They made her nervous and claustrophobic and she always felt completely tense the entire night we were out if the paparazzi greeted us at the restaurant. Seemed like no matter the country they followed us everywhere. Even on our honeymoon we couldn’t catch a break.

“It’s just a few cameras.”

Avalon glanced out the tinted window of the rental car to the sidewalk that was swarming with paparazzi and their crew, waiting for us to step out.

“That’s hardly a few.” she mumbled.

“Just keep your head down and don’t say anything.”

“I can’t just ignore them.” she turned to me, “That’s rude.”

“Well what do you want me to say?” I sighed.

“I want to have a date with my husband that’s not riddled with strangers and their cameras.”

“Sorry to be such a burden in your life, honey.”

“Oh, Daniel, stop that.” she scoffed, shaking her head as she turned back out the window.

I stared at her a moment, her bottom lip held between her teeth and her arms crossed over the chest of the tight tropical dress she wore. I slid my hand over her thigh and gave it a squeeze to get her looking back at me. Her brown eyes were shimmering in anxious tears.

“I want to go back to the hotel.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I promise. I’ll be right beside you.” I assured her, capturing her chin in my hand to pull her lips onto mine for a quick kiss before reaching for the handle on the car door, “Come on.”

Thinking about these things only made me realize how much we actually argued. Maybe how dense I was to her feelings. Did that make me selfish? Well, I’m no perfect man. I can only push that fact on you so much, dear reader.

Jonah and I stared up at the brick bank building in front of us. The few steps to the ATM seemed like a mile. I took out my wallet from my jeans pocket and flicked through it to pull out my credit card with a sigh.

“5k?” Jonah suggested.

“Yeah, sounds about right.” I mumbled, adjusting the cap on my head as I scanned the curb we were parked in front of. “I’ll be quick.”

I stepped out of my car before I could psych myself up anymore and hopped up onto the sidewalk towards the ATM outside the building. I stood close to the machine, head down, and slid my credit card into the slot. I typed in my pin number with shaking hands and waited for my withdrawal request to go through while I tried not to think about what I was hiding in my car just behind me.

The sun beat down on the back of my neck as I hunched over the ATM, trying my best to keep myself in the shadows. It felt like ages had gone by until the machine slid out a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and returned my card. I kept my head down as I turned on my heel and crashed right into a man walking towards the front doors of the bank.

He must have apologized – I remember him saying something to me – but the fear that our sudden collision injected into my veins had me bowing my head and rushing off to my car a few feet away without a word. I was breathless when I closed the door behind me as if I had just hiked up the Hills and back and I tried to play it off as I flicked through the bills in my hand.

I held out half the stack to Jonah so we could split the total just in-case anything happened to either of us, “Twenty-five-hundred for you. Twenty-five-hundred for me.”

“Great.” Jonah reached into the backseat and grabbed his wallet from his back to tuck the cash safely away and I slipped my half into the glove box of the car.

We had to keep moving so I pulled out of the bank parking lot back towards the main roads while Jonah brought up the address of the motel in the GPS and set the route navigation on. We drove in silence, not even bothering to put on any music, and he scrolled through his phone as we hit some traffic on the freeway.

“The place looks musty as hell.” Jonah said casually.

I glanced over to his phone screen to see him checking out the Expedia site.

“It’s like 1 out of 5 stars. Reviews say bed bugs, broken furniture, unfriendly staff. Why would Avalon want to go within five blocks of this place yet alone meet someone inside?” Jonah mumbled and he set his phone back down to charge.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think the interior design what she was particularly worried about.” I muttered as I switched lanes towards the exit for Pasadena. I couldn’t help but let the jealously come out through my tone of voice.

My phone rang through the Tesla speakers and I glanced at the screen to see Christian calling me for at least the third time since the night before. I declined it.

“Fuck. Why does he need to know where I am so badly?” I grumbled.

“Maybe you should just tell him you’re busy at work.” Jonah suggested.

“It’s none of his business where I am.”

“It’ll get him off your back.”

“It’ll get him asking questions. We really don’t need that.” I sighed tiredly.

Jonah kept quiet.

The Lincoln Motel was right off the freeway and was so closely built under the underpass that it could have passed as a troll under the bridge. Honestly, it sort of felt like that same sort of sense as I pulled into the cracked parking lot of the nearly crumbling orange stucco two-storey building. My white Tesla looked like a diamond in the rough beside the motel and I would have been worried about it being stolen if it wasn’t for the body in the trunk already depreciating the car.

I parked in the spot closest to the building and Jonah and I took a moment to prepare ourselves for not only the person we were going to meet uninvited but also to face the decrepit building firsthand. I leaned forward to see up to the second storey balcony – all the rooms being outdoor entry – and located number nineteen. This certainly was not what I had planned when I woke up that morning.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #why dont we music #daniel seavey fanfic

38 notes · View notes

yandearest · 4 years

Text

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #yandere #yandere bts fic #yandere jung hoseok #bts x reader #dark bts #dark bts au #y!hoseok #hoseok fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #dark jhope #HUNGER GAMES AU

495 notes · View notes

marvel-m-lee · 3 years

Text

Fire, Note books and a- kid? •Part 1 of M-Verse•

Warning! This series will include gruesome descriptions of blood, bodies etc. These may be rare but they will be graphic. (This one doesn't have much tickling but it has a⁸ little haha)

This Series is also a tickls series, so if you dont like it, sorry oof.

Fandom: Marvel

"CRAP" Sam yelled as he flew right under a collapsing tie beam. "Language!" The cap yelled through the intercom, they were on a mission. There had been an explosion in an old warehouse building, no one knows how it happened but once they got there the place was covered with fire and dead bodies.

They were now in the building, fighting what they believed to be ex hydra workers that went into hiding for more experiments.

Cap fought from the ground whilst Sam was trying to get some shots from above while reading looked for any potential prisoners.

"Ain't seeing nothing from RedWibg Cap, the place is about to blow, we've gotta get out" Steve had just taken out about 17- now 18 Hydra agents, throwing them in the burning flames or beating them in combat.

"Alright, have one more look around the perimeter. Nat get the Jet prepared for exit incase the place actually does blow" He yelled, fighting off the last two Hydra agents in his area, throwing one onto another knocking them into a large fire screaming.

"K, sam make sure there arent any survivors" Nat ran back to the jet and started it up, the lights turning on as it slowly began to hover over the ground.

"Will do Widow" Sam flew up above the collapsing building to get another view of the area.

"Black Widow or Natasha" A sassy voice explained down the intercom.

"Okay Spider Lady" A grunt was heard that made both Cap and Sam laugh. Sam was looking through Redwing and his own eyes and couldn't seem to spot anything. "It all seems clear" Just as he were about to fly back down though he noticed something.

A young girl, her hair stuck together with some blood, mixed with dirt and wood. Her skin covered with brown mud and small cuts, she wore a white ripped hospital gown, too no longer white- or had seemed to be in years?...

"Holy shit-"

"Language!"

"There's a kid- west bound, see if you can get her. Covered in dirt and seemingly blood, right near where the fire seemed to have started from the burnt wood scraps and dying fires around her"

"A kid? West bound? Nat how long we got left?" Steve asked, running through the flames, dodging their burns and running as fast as he could.

"Before the place explodes? From my view about 150 seconds, just over two minutes. But you're gonna need to be fast so we can all get out." Nat watched over the intercoms and the computers showing where Steve was.

"Take a left"

"What?"

"Take a left! I'm giving you the fastest route to the west bound. Keep running until you find large doors, go through them and the last one at the end should lead to the girl"

Steve stopped asking the questions and complied. It wasnt his first time saving a kid, but the closer he got, the more he saw about the place. Cages, torture chambers, training halls.

This place wasnt a good one, especially for a kid... He thought.

He found the large doors, chained shut. Before he reached them he threw his shield, breaking the locks almost instantly. He ran through, but stopped in his tracks. The room was full of blood, the sticky walls glossed over, there were bones, some shattered, some scattered. Not hundreds, probably enough for the bodies of a good couple of people though... it was gruesome. Some of the worst things he had seen in a while, probably since... well. The blip?..

How was a kid kept here? How did we not know sooner?...

The thoughts span round the super solider head, taking up more time than he would have cared for.

"Steve? What's happened why'd you stop? We've got a minute!" Nat asked, she was getting impatient, the adrenaline was rising and so were the flames, everyone felt on edge here, as soon as they stepped down something felt very wrong.

"Shit, yeah. Alright, I'm going!" Steve ran and soon found the young girl, she didn't seem too strictly harmed for being so close to the flames. And for surviving in this, this prison.

"Got her, how long have I got left?"

"45 seconds"

Steve now had the young girl over his shoulder, he was trying to run even faster than he had before. This place. Something else had been happening here.

As the 100 year old ran though, he seemed to notice the fire die down wherever he ran to, creating a simple path for him to run in. He spotted the jet, Sam was standing in the open doorway, waiting to see if cap would make it. Silently cheering him on.

"10 seconds Cap"

"Start taking off now, we'll make it."

"FUCK NO! HURRY UP MAN" Sam yelled, this time to Captain America ratger rgan through the intercoms.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion, Steve got close enough just to jump and as soon as he did the whole place behind blew up. It all went so quickly after that, Sam grabbed his hand, holding on with all his might as Steve held the young girl. Nat, quicker than ever, sped off into the sky, miles from the ground to make sure the explosion wouldn't hit them as harshly as it should have.

Steve lay on the floor, with the young girl cradled in his arms behind the shield so she wouldn't get burnt. He was staring at her, even though she was covered in- well not so flattering things, she was beautiful. Something within began stirring. Something warm, familiar...

"Holy shit my dude. We almost died!" Sam droned, going to sit down on the chairs they had.

"We usually almost die, its part of our job" Nat explained, walking in and rolling her eyes. "Nahhh, Nat even you know that place was off" Sam looked over to the spy who sighed and walked over to Steve to help him up.

"How's the kid?"

Steve stood up and pulled away the shield to show off a little girl with y/c/h hair, covered in mud and pieces of blood, tucked up into his chest, breathing gently. "Wow" Sam sighed from the back.

"She's not in as much bad of a state as I would have imagined?" Nat said, watching over the little girl. "She wasnt too close to the big fire, must have been thrown into the mud and spotty snow from the explosion." Sam suggested.

Steve just held onto the small angel in his arms. He felt as though it were only he and she in the world, that time was no longer relevant. He memorized every piece of her face, even the pieces with dirt, cuts and bruises.

Suddenly Nat snapped him out of it, "Alright, I'm going to go get Bruce over. See if she's alright. For now just but her on a bed." Steve nodded as the Spider left to go call Dr. Banner.

"We haven't got beds though?- oh fuck you man" Steve laughed at Sam, he had just pulled out a bed from the sides of the ship. "You didnt know?" He teased. He and Nat had let sam sleep on the chairs or ground for the past few years. It seemed to be a secret agreement not to tell him amongst the avengers.

"Nah man, that's cold" Steve placed the little girl down and pulled up the walls of the bed to make sure she wouldn't fall out. Watching her little breaths as Sam's words started to fade away.

"Oi you even listening to me?" Sam asked unamused sitting up and looking at the fallen solider. "She's gonna be alright Steve" Steve sighed, deep down he knew she'd be fine. But he felt something strange. Fear. Like he had just found an old journal or someone he hadn't seen for a very long time.

He sighed and stood up, walking over to the bird man who was now sitting up watching the soldiers actions. They both heard Natasha in the background talking with Bruce.

"She's gonna be alright Steve"

"I hope so..."

It was a while till they had all landed at the compound. Rogers and Wilson played some card games- dont question it, Roger's made Tony buy him loads for each mission. He enjoyed the games. He also won most of them.

Steve picked the young girl up and brought her to Bruce as the doors opened up, they lauded her down on a hospital bed and hurried off. Bruce stayed back checking in on everyone. "The mission?"

"A success as always"

Steve seemed quiet, Sam answering fir him rather than fir himself. He watched the girl be scurried along into the building.

"Did you clean all her wounds?"

"Mhm"

Steve looked down and nodded before they all began walking. He didnt mean to seem any less- well captain america-y, but he definitely had something on his mind. Bruce began to follow quickly to ask what's up.

"Hmm? Oh.. nothing. Just worried for the child" Steve tried to brush the feeling off but couldn't his gut had other plans. They wanted to see the girl, see if she was okay.

"She's gonna be alright, she only needs a few tests done- safe ones of course, blood pressure, cut cleansing etc" Bruce smiled at the much taller man. Oh god he was short. Steve smiled back to the Dr with 7 PHD's.

"Thanks Banner, I'm gonna go see Stark"

"Okay, stay safe, I'll tell you when she's improved"

Steve nodded and walked into the building, turning an opposite way to Banner and going to go see Stark. Steve was secretly very grateful Bruce would tell him about the child once she was improving. He felt a connection.

"Stark?" The 100 year old asked, knocking on the doors to the Lab.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, Open the Doors for Roger's Pleade and Thank you" The billionaire didnt move from his seat, he had been working on some new tech as usual.

"Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y" Steve walked in, still in his spandex from the mission covered in blood and dirt with little scuff marks all over from the fire flames.

"Its an 8 Code Pin Rogers"

"I know I know, I just can't seem to remember it"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked up leaning on his chair with one arm resting over the top.

"What's up?"

Steve furrowed his brows. "Hmm?"

"You, you seem... less Super, more Man"

Steve rolled his eyes, "I'm not Super Man Tony!" Tony just shrugged and chewed the side of his cheek.

"Dunno there Cap" The genius stood up and walked over to him, the man was much seemingly smaller without his heals on, just bare foot walking around. He got extremely close to the Cap and got on his tip toes leaning in. If he wanted he could have kissed the man he were so close, though they both knew it wouldn't happen, Tony just liked getting close to annoy people.

That's when the billionaire squealed and almost fell to the ground with a jump back, a light blush on his face. "Dick" Steve smirked at the man, he sure was one ticklish man, billionaire, genius who cares. He was still ticklish. Tony went to go sit back down.

"So what's up?" This time, happily keeping his distance.

"I saved a kid today"

Tony furrowed his brows and chuckled, slowly clapping his hands. "Well done soldier, you saved a kid"

"Tony im serious"

"Well I didn't really think you were lying-"

Steve stepped forward making the Billionaire loose his confidence. He never minded being tickled, but then again it didnt help his reputation being melted into a giggly mess. He was still really nervous. Steve smirked at the man but then continued.

"She was covered in dirt and bits of blood. But before I found her, I ran through a hall. It was Dark, but the raging fires lit it up. There were bones, scattered. Probably enough for a good few people, some big some small. And blood, all over the walls..."

Steve tensed up, remembering the place. "It reminded me of the war with Thanos."

Tony stayed quiet, no longer fearful of childish tickles. It seemed horrifying. Even for them. "Okay, send me the Locations, I'll get F.R.I.D.A.Y up and working on it alright?" Tony wasn't the best when it came to comforting, but he knew he could do something.

Steve looked up at him and smiled thankfully, but Tony coukd tell there was something else bothering. Yet he didn't want Steve to be too focused on it all.

"Hey, here" Tony grabbed something from within a draw, it had a captain America's shield on the front, he handed it to steve. Just a normal sketch book. And some pencils. "You're welcome to use these and sit down at the window or something while I work. Keep your mind off things.

"Thanks Tony" Steve smiled at the billionaire, he wasnt great at comforting, but he knew what Steve wanted. It was a strange friendship that's for sure.

"Look at the first page too! I did a little something" The billionaire smirked as Steve turned the book open, on the front was an IronMan helmet with a little speech bubble saying "I Am IronMan" and a little stick figure with a shield in a cage in the bottom corner saying "I stink!"

Tony burst out laughing at Steve's expression. Let's just say his laughing continued for longer than expected...

#steve rogers #y/n #tony stank #bruce banner #hulksmash #the avengers #endgame #tickling #tickle community #natasha romanov #sam wilson #gore tw #bucky barnes #steve x reader #tony x reader #dr banner #marvel mcu #marvel

24 notes · View notes