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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing. “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

288 notes · View notes

simplyclockwork · 2 years

Note

I know you have a lot of prompts, but I can be patient! This thought just won’t leave me alone. John and Sherlock in a new relationship and John discovers Sherlock snores terribly. At first John suffers in silence but when he tells Sherlock, Sherlock is horrified and disbelieving and embarrassed. Can be funny or fluffy or smutty (even a bit angsty if you like). Happy ending please. I’m well over 18.

Hey anon! Thank you so much for your patience. I finally filled your prompt. Thank you for sending it and feel free to send any others you might think of in the future.

Hope you are well!

You can read your prompt below the page break or on Ao3 here.

------

It has taken them far too long to get to this point. To get past all the blind moments, the obliviousness shared by them both. Ages to traverse the awkwardness that is the process of shifting their dynamic from friends to flatmates to partners to… more.

But they get there. They get there together, in fits and in starts, in uncertain kisses and stolen moments between the insane, case-driven chaos of their lives. Their first time is a little clumsy, kind of sloppy, but enjoyable, leaving them both satisfied in the end. So satisfied that John can’t even find it in himself to complain when Sherlock flits off to peruse that new case file Lestrade dropped by earlier in the day. It’s fine. Sherlock is Sherlock. John would never expect him to change simply because they’ve gone from just sharing a flat to snogging one another on every available surface.

They are still them, and it’s all fine.

Rolling over, John stretches, tugs the blankets over his cooling body, and settles into a blissful sleep.

The roaring sound of a chainsaw, inexplicable and horrific, shocks him awake. Shooting upright, John blinks blearily in the darkened room. A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table tells him it’s just shy of four am, as good a time as any, John gathers, for him to be murdered by a chainsaw-wielding maniac. He shakes his head, bemused at his own groggy response to imminent death, and squints into the gloom. But there is no sign of a maniac — chainsaw-wielding or otherwise — at the end of Sherlock’s bed. Just an open armoire filled with suits that cost more than all of the clothing John has ever owned put together.

Maybe he dreamt the noise? John blinks. He shakes his head again and startles violently when the ripping, awful sound comes again. John jerks towards the noise, spots mussed curls on the pillow next to his, and freezes. As he stares, the sound comes again, loud and rough enough that John swears it must resonate within his very bones.

No. No way.

Refusing to accept the truth before his very eyes, John reaches out and flicks the blanket down to reveal Sherlock’s face. His sleep-softened face, his closed eyes and open mouth. As John watches, the most horrible noise emerges from that mouth. The same one that, only earlier, had sunk down the length of John’s eager cock, and had parted around the most deliciously lewd sighs. Now, that mouth is a channel for evil, Sherlock’s sleeping throat doing its best — and horribly accurate — impression of a freight train.

“Bloody hell,” John mutters as dismay dawns. The sinking sensation in his stomach only deepens as Sherlock releases another monstrous snore, loud enough that John swears he can feel the walls vibrate. This can’t be happening. Surely, John would have noticed this before. They’ve shared rooms before, even shared beds… Haven’t they?

Thinking it over, John is forced to admit that while they’ve often found themselves sharing a room, they’ve never actually slept in it at the same time. Typically, John does the sleeping, while Sherlock stays up at all hours working on cases, traversing the countryside for clues, or buggering off to who knew where to do who knew what. This is, John realizes, the first time they have slept together in the same place at the same time. The fact boggles John’s mind, who then silently applauds the amount of soundproofing that must exist within the walls of 221B to have kept this little — more like deafening — secret from him.

Another ripping snore escapes Sherlock, making John’s ears ring and his nose scrunch up in despair.

Bloody hell, he’ll have to come up with a plan.

“No, he doesn’t.” Lestrade sets his pint down on the counter and raises two disbelieving eyebrows at John across the sticky top of their table. “Sherlock, snore? Nah, that’s not true.”

Arms folded over his chest, John cocks his head to one side. “Do you really think I would lie about something like this?”

Lestrade opens his mouth to reply, then seems to think better. He shrugs. “Alright, you’ve got me there. As far as pranks go, that would be a pathetic one.” He frowns. “Sherlock used to crash at mine all the time when he first started consulting. He’d run himself ragged, come running to fill me in, and would always end up passing out mid-sentence on my sofa. I never heard him snore.”

“That was a while ago, though, yeah?” John receives a nod. “Okay, well, he snores now.”

Lestrade looks sympathetic. “That bad, huh?”

John grimaces into his beer. “It’s like sleeping next to the train tracks, but I think even that might be better.”

“Bloody hell.”

Sighing, John takes a large swallow of bitter brew. “You have no idea.”

A week goes by. John wonders if he should mention the snoring to Sherlock. But every time he thinks of broaching the subject, something sidetracks him. A case, a last-minute call-in for a shift at the clinic, Sherlock’s hand slipping into his pants under the table as he’s eating breakfast… There is always something.

In the end, John lets it slide. After all, he and Sherlock rarely share the bed. There is almost always a case to be solved, during which Sherlock pinballs around the sitting room and kitchen like a human-shaped balloon let go mid-inflation. And, when he’s not doing that, he’s terrorizing Mrs Hudson about her scratchers. Or sprawled in a flouncing pout over his armchair. Or tormenting his violin until it sounds like a cat is being murdered in their flat.

So John doesn’t bring it up. Sherlock seems blissfully unaware of his ability to produce chainsaw noises while asleep, and John doesn’t want to disturb the peace. Aside from the snoring, John treasures the few and rare times when Sherlock actually does curl up with him in the bed and is loathe to jeopardize them with even the slightest complaint.

A year into their relationship, he discreetly purchases a pair of reusable silicone earplugs. He keeps them inside the bedside table and wears them only once he’s sure Sherlock is asleep, in those few and far between times when Sherlock actually deigns to sleep in their now-shared bed.

But the peace does not last. John is eventually busted despite his success in keeping a secret from the world’s nosiest — and noisiest —man. It happens when he least expects it, just like when he first discovered the snoring: in a deep sleep.

A sudden touch on his earlobe has John stirring from dreamland, then wide awake as long fingers tug the earplug gently from his ear. John opens his eyes and sits up at once, staring with confusion at Sherlock, who stares back at him from the next pillow.

Gripped between finger and thumb, the earplug is offered up in silent accusation.

“John,” Sherlock says in a bemused voice, “why are you wearing earplugs?”

John’s mind races. Here it is, the moment he’s avoided for so long. But it seems his chickens have come home to roost as Sherlock waits for his answer with an expectant expression on his pillow-lined face.

“Um,” John says cleverly. “Well. I, uh.” Inspiration strikes. “It’s for the neighbour’s dogs. Always barking, you know how it is.”

Sherlock favours him with a long, silent stare. Then, “John, our neighbours don’t have dogs. No one within five flats has any kind of pet. Well, Mrs Gladly’s daughter has a fish, but that really doesn’t count.”

“Fish are pets.”

“Fish don’t bark, John.”

John swallows, his smile nervous. “Right. Of course they don’t.” He purses his lips. He’s not nearly at his best. He’s exhausted, his brain still half-asleep. Dogs? Really, Watson? Dogs? Do better.

He tries to do better.

“It’s… an experiment?” Dammit, he hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question.

Sherlock arches one perfectly groomed eyebrow. “An experiment.”

“Yes,” John says, nodding, hoping desperately that Sherlock will buy it. “That. One of those. Yes.”

Pale eyes narrow. Sherlock doesn’t buy it. “What kind of experiment?”

“What kind?” John asks, swallowing again. “You want to know what kind?”

“Yes, John. What kind of experiment.”

Is the heat on? Blimey, it’s hot in their bedroom. Why is it so hot? Quick, Watson, come up with an answer!

“A… secret one?”

Sherlock’s lips flatten into a thin line. “A secret experiment,” he echoes, disbelieving.

John tries to smile. It feels like a grimace. “Yes.”

“John Watson, you are a terrible liar,” Sherlock says dryly.

Wincing, John spreads his hands. “Never said I was a good one.” Good, this is good. A change of topic is just what he needs. Bold, hoping to redirect Sherlock’s focus, John reaches between them and strokes the inside of Sherlock’s naked thigh with one teasing finger. “I’m very good at other things, though. Maybe I should show you?” He shifts closer, that single finger turning into a palm cupping Sherlock’s soft cock through his pants.

Sherlock jerks his hips away from the contact with a scowl. “Are you trying to distract me with sex?”

Teeth pressing into his bottom lip, his expression desperate, John asks, “That depends… Is it working?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrow again, his mouth turning down at the corners. “No.” But his cock twitches under John’s searching hand, betraying him as a liar as well.

“Someone begs to differ,” John says, giving Sherlock’s growing erection a pointed squeeze.

A flush rises in Sherlock’s cheek. His head rocks back briefly, but he refuses to be swayed. “John Watson,” he snaps, batting John’s hand away, “you tell me the truth right now!” Brandishing the earplug, he holds it right in John’s face. “Explain this! Explain yourself. Now.”

Looks like the jig is up. With a sigh, John rescues the earplug from Sherlock’s furious grip and says, “You snore. I didn’t want to say anything because I figured you already knew. I thought I’d just deal with it on my own, hence this.” He gestures with the earplug. “Anyways, I…” John’s voice trails off. Sherlock’s expression is strange. “Sherlock?”

There is a long moment of silence before Sherlock blinks and replies. “I don’t snore.”

John goes still. “Um… yes. Yes, you do. Really loudly, actually. It’s awful.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows do something interesting, shooting upward before dropping again into a scowl. “I certainly do not, John.” He is insistent. “I’m sure someone would have said something by now if I did.”

“Maybe it’s new,” John says with a shrug. “You did break your nose a year and a half ago during that forgery case. Maybe it started then.” He peers closer at Sherlock, focusing on his nose. “I bet you have a deviated septum. It’s very common.”

But Sherlock seems determined to deny his snoring until his dying breath. “I. Do. Not. Snore.”

John sighs. Thankfully for his sanity, he has a video on his phone. After Lestrade refused to believe him, he’d recorded one of the worst nights and showed it to him with triumphant smugness. Now, it stands as evidence to back his case. After rising to find his phone in the sitting room, John returns and plays the video.

Sherlock stares at the phone in perturbed silence, not saying a word until the damning clip ends. Then, his face dangerously red, he snaps, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” John says, setting his phone aside and gesturing at his irate bed partner, “because I kind of worried you might react like this.”

That shuts Sherlock up. His mouth closes with a snap. Then, haughty and offended, he shoves the blankets aside and rises. “If that’s the case, then I’ll remove myself — and my horrible snoring — from the vicinity.” His mouth twists down at the corners. “I wouldn’t want to disturb your precious sleep, Doctor Watson.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” John sighs.

His Nibs makes it two steps toward the door before John snags his arm and hauls him back. The backs of his knees strike the edge of the bed, sending Sherlock tumbling onto the mattress. Sprawled on his back, he blinks up at the ceiling with a bemused expression.

John doesn’t give him the chance to recover.

He takes advantage of Sherlock’s stunned moment to straddle his thighs, trapping him on the bed. Perched, refusing to budge, John captures Sherlock’s wrists and pins them over his head. “None of that, now,” he says in a crisp tone. “It’s almost three in the morning, and I am in no mood for dramatic theatrics when we both know you’re just embarrassed.” Leaning down, John noses at the side of Sherlock’s neck. “I’ll give you two options. Well, three. Either talk to me, go back to sleep, or I’ll have no choice but to seduce you.”

Sherlock, scowling, turns his head away and refuses to look at him. Chuckling, John shakes his head.

“Not going to talk to me, huh?” Silence. John grins. “Fine. Guess we're going with the third option. I don’t need to talk.” He demonstrates his commitment to a non-verbal attack with a pointed roll of his hips. Even pouting, glaring at the wall, Sherlock can’t control his body’s reaction to John’s teasing. A shiver ripples through him, and colour floods into his cheeks again, this time from something other than embarrassment. John repeats the attack, his grin widening as Sherlock’s teeth sink into his bottom lip hard enough to turn the flesh white.

Leaning down, John mouths at the side of Sherlock’s neck and nibbles his earlobe, whispering, “I bought the earplugs so I could sleep with you. Are you really going to pretend you’re offended by that?”

A huff escapes Sherlock, but he turns his head and meets John’s eyes again. He opens his mouth to speak, but John captures his lips in a searing kiss, leaving him panting and breathless when their mouths finally part.

Sherlock looks up at him and gasps for air with a dazed look in his eyes. Feeling rather smug about the effect he’s having on his stroppy detective, John says, “Remind me to try that tactic next time you’re in one of your sulks.”

Sherlock just huffs at him again before freeing his wrists from John’s grip. Looping his arms around John’s neck, he tugs him down into another kiss. He bites at John’s lips with more force than usual before gentling his mouth and slipping his tongue over the roof of John’s mouth. Then, breaking the kiss, he says, “I do not snore.”

Still grinning, John presses a sloppy, wet kiss to Sherlock’s cheek that makes him pretend to grimace and replies, “Whatever you say, Mister Holmes.”

#sherlock #johnlock #fan fic #prompt fill #simplyclockwork #anon

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 123

It feels really good to be back writing and posting, I’m going to be super honest. Thank you again, to everyone who reads and leaves notes on these chapters. You keep me going and encourage me more than you will ever know.

This was originally going to be one chapter, but it went really really long and I didn’t have the heart to leave parts out. Even splitting it in half, each half is longer than most of the chapters so far. But I couldn’t help showing how far the Ark has come from simply “figuring out how to exist”! In my defense, @baelpenrose egged me on, too. Blame him. :P

Shout out to @zommbiebro, @charlylimph-blog, @books-and-cartoons, all the other contributors for characters in this chapter. INCLUDING @werewolf2578 for Michael Smith, who finally makes his debut here. Finally.

As Maverick and I entered the gymnasium - now larger and more finished than it had been when Arthur and Jokul’s showdown happened several years back - the atmosphere was filled with excitement. Three Terran years previous, collapsible bleachers had been constructed shortly after sporting and skill exhibitions had regained popularity on-par with Pre-End times, and today was one such occasion. Every seat was packed, and Miys was working overtime in multiple bodies, strategically positioned to keep the air filtered. Else-chicks swarmed on the floor, eagerly consuming anything that had been spilled or dropped.

Today, Jokul and Arthur were once again on the floor, in full view of the crowd. Instead of a bloody one-on-one, no holds barred fight, however, they were two of twenty participants in a weapons exhibition. Between them, Charly bounced on the balls of her feet, scanning the audience - a smile here and there when a container of neon popcorn caught her eye, but a huge grin along with extra bouncing and an enthusiastic wave when she saw our small group. She elbowed Arthur, who was deep in conversation with Tyche and Coffey on his other side. All three turned to wave.

“Where’s Conor?” Maverick asked, searching the floor carefully.

I shrugged. “He may be on his way, or in another room, stretching. You know he isn’t a huge fan of crowds this large.”

With a huff, he blew a lock of hair out of his face. “I know it’s his first one of these things, but he’ll be fine. He’s gotten really good. Even Charly and Tyche said so.”

Evania Josue took the floor and gestured for silence, indicating that the exhibition was starting. “Thank you, everyone who could be here in person, and everyone watching from other areas of the Ark, and welcome to our second Von-annual ranged weapons exhibition. As with last time, combustion weapons will not be used in any of our events, for safety reasons. We will continue with our order from the previous event, and begin with axe-throwing.”

Cheers erupted, and Tyche, Coffey, and Arthur took their seats on the sidelines. Charly, Jokul, and three other less-familiar faces waved to us as they were introduced, before drawing lots for the order they would go in. One of the people I didn’t recognize went first, and made a pretty good showing - all six axes hit their targets, regularly striking midway to the bullseye from a distance I could barely hit the floor from. Charly was second, and Maverick clenched my arm tight enough to make me wince - she was the smallest competitor in this event, but the entire crowd went deathly silent as she lined up the first target.

Thunk. Bullseye, and buried deep.

Thunk. Just left of center.

Thunk. Another bullseye.

Three more axes led to one more bullseye and two just to the right of center. The crowd exploded into cheers, only going quiet as the next person stepped forward. It was another solid execution, but not quite in the same level of skill that Charly had demonstrated.

Jokul was last, and as soon as he stepped forward, you could hear a pin drop. No one even dared breathe, lest they missed out on what they hoped they were about to witness. Sure enough, Jokul stood three feet to the left of the first table holding an axe, and started walking at a calm pace. Without breaking stride, he would grab an axe and suddenly it would appear in the center of the target. No windup, no careful lining up of his throws, just ten paces, six axes, and six bullseyes.

Screaming erupted from the entire gymnasium, to the point that Miys was covering their sensory organs. Charly was red in her face from cheering, and I honestly could not blame her - it was one of the most impressive things I had seen, and never ceased to amaze me. Even Arthur was nodding in approval and applauding.

The cheering died down to a murmur of discussion as the athletes took their bows and the equipment was removed. Charly and Jokul both took seats on the sidelines, while the other three left the floor entirely, indicating they had no other events. The next event was slung projectiles, which neither Maverick nor I was remotely interested in.

He leaned closely so he wouldn’t distract anyone. “So, I’ve been wondering this for a while now… Those axes are pretty heavy, right?”

I nodded. I had tried throwing them, but they were close to two pounds in Terran gravity - worse in Von-standard, and obviously front-heavy.

“So, to throw them that fast, Jokul has to have a lot of arm strength, right?”

Another nod.

“How did Charly get up after he punched her?”

I sighed. I’d wondered where he was going with this. “First, he pulled the punch. Second, it was an awkward hit because he was aiming for me. Third, with two cracked ribs and a whole lot of ‘Charly’ involved.”

“So necromancy,” Maverick nodded seriously.

“I can neither confirm nor deny, except that she popped up like he hit her with a pillow.” I shook his knee as something caught my eye. “There! There he is!”

Conor was finally visible, crouched and in discussion with Tyche. From the way he was running his hand through his hair, he was clearly nervous. She just shook her finger at him with a serious expression, and whatever she said made him laugh and shake his head. Probably a death threat, I figured.

He was just in time, as the next exhibition was knife-throwing. I don’t know if Evan was rigging the lots, but once again the most anticipated participant - this time Tyche - was last. Instead, someone I recognized as Michael Smith was first. Standing from beside Grandma Kim, he gave an emphatic command to the chocolate labradoodle at his feet and took center stage.

The knife throwing event was ten knives, one target, and timed as well as scored by where the knives landed. I knew from previous events that Michael preferred throwing knives with a hilt, which made the balance off center. Nonetheless, all his hits were dead-center and solid, even if he telegraphed his throws a bit much for my liking.

Next was Arthur, who made a show of his one-upmanship by finishing faster and with less obvious movement. He patted Conor on the shoulder and said something to reassure him as Conor stood for his turn.

The crowd started murmuring as Conor turned toward his target, back on full display. Rather than pulling his knives from his hip, or picking them up from a table, Conor had found it easier for him to actually keep them slung across his shoulders and drew them like arrows. I had never seen anything like it, but Coffey had suggested it soon after Conor decided to follow mine and Tyche’s footsteps. And while his display wasn’t the fastest, or the most accurate, he drew some fascinated chatter from the crowd when switched hands after the fifth knife, with no change in speed or precision.

When he finished, there was enthusiastic applause but none louder than our family. Coffey’s voice boomed out, even louder than mine, to congratulate him before they traded places. Once again, there was hushed chatter as Coffey drew over his shoulder, this time trading off hands with every single knife, and breathless applause when he finished with a tighter cluster than Conor had. He smiled, but his eyes were all for Charly, who was next.

The crowd hardly had time to focus before she started letting blades loose. As fast as she could grab one, it was flying behind the last one, covering the bullseye by the time she was done. With a flourish, she took a bow that left us all laughing and cheering. She danced over to the sidelines, sweeping one more bow for Tyche to take the floor.

As soon as Tyche stood, the air crackled with excitement. In the same way that everyone watched the axe-throwing to see Jokul, all eyes were on my sister for this event. As though she was utterly oblivious to this fact, she strode to her marker. She was still mid-stride when she brushed her hair out of her face and let the first knife fly from the same hand.

Bullseye.

Brushing off her legs saw two more knives, one after the other, hitting their marks. Then a dagger from her left hip, a tactical knife from one boot, and on and on. Each blade came from a different spot, no two the same size or shape. All hit their marks, and all without a single indication of exertion. The only indication that she finished was when she dropped her hands and tilted her head, studying the tight pattern on the target. My datapad indicated that she had matched Arthur’s time and close strikes.

When she turned to sit back down, everyone’s brains caught up and the expected cheers deafened us again. As soon as she reached her seat, Arthur and Charly stood by some unspoken agreement and made ridiculous sweeping bows to her, only encouraging the audience to cheer harder.

Evania stepped forward again, to let everyone know that there would be a twenty minute intercession. The next events needed more intensive preparation, which allowed friends and family to take some time to talk with the participants. Sure enough, the second I was in earshot, I could hear Tyche complaining.

“I got much tighter patterns than that in practice,” she moaned.

Conor, head resting on both hands, shook his head in disbelief. “If you think you were bad, I feel I’m hopeless.”

That had the exact reaction everyone saw coming, as she whirled around in righteous fury. “Conor MacMaoilir-Reid-Okima, I have been throwing any knife I could get my grubby paws on since I was four. You started three years ago. I taught you, Sophia taught you, Coffey taught you. Your throwing has an exceptional pedigree and if I hear you talk about giving up, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Let me use you for target practice,” Arthur intoned, half-joking.

“No!” she insisted. “I’ll let Simon use you for target practice!”

“I’d be safe as houses, if he was aiming for me. Poor guy couldn’t hit the floor with a knife if he dropped it.”

“She never said with knives,” I added wickedly, causing his head to snap up and his face to pale.

“Sophie. Please, that’s cruel.”

I waved him off. “Oh, as if he would ever actually aim for you. If Simon had to hunt for his food, he’d be a vegetarian, I swear.”

Rolling his eyes, Maverick stepped into the fray. “Conor, you did really well. You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t. And it’s not like this is a competition, you were literally invited to just show off what you can do.”

“I still don’t know why… Coff over there clearly did better.”

A dazzling smile flashed as Coffey turned from his conversation with Charly. “Ah, but we are the only two who use that technique! Showing it off here means others may be interested in learning later.”

Hair flew as Charly nodded. “And besides, I could never get the hang of pulling a knife like that. My brain says ‘arrow’, and it’s just confusing.”

I was nodding in agreement and gesturing for Maverick to take Arthur’s seat, when something wet nudged my ankle.

“Sparkles. Heel.”

I turned to see Michael Smith and Grandma Kim had joined us. Unable to resist, I knelt to pet the dogs that accompanied them. “GK, Lyric II is looking more and more like her mom every day.” A muzzle streaked with white fur poked my hand. “Hey there, girl,” I whispered, blinking hard. Lyric was already ten when we were all brought to the Ark, and Hujylsogox medicine could only do so much for dogs. Permission had been given for her to have one pup, to be trained as both a service and a protection animal, in preparation.

Michael’s animal looked to him for permission before joining in the ear scratches I was dishing out. He was one of the very few certified service animal trainers on the Ark, so when Lyric II was born, so was Sparkles, with the intention that they grow up and train as a working team. Michael’s past was extremely blank and sketchy, but something about him reminded me of both Arthur and Xiomara. The fact that both of them respected him made me both at ease and suspicious at the same time.

I pushed that out of my mind and focused on the pile of fur before me, begging for belly rubs. “What events are left?”

“The security animal events have been added to this one, to allow time for the other participants to rest more, and then archery, spear/javelin, and thrown projectiles.”

I shook my head at ‘thrown projectiles’, but Charly was the one to speak. “I can’t believe we made a sport out of rock throwing.” When mouths started to open to correct her, she held up both hands and glared. “I mean ‘we’ like ‘people’, not ‘we’ like ‘the Ark’. I am well aware that humans have been killing things by throwing rocks forever. Don’t shoot me.”

“That’s a different exhibition,” Maverick pointed out, eliciting a groan from several people. “What!? It is!”

“I think she would beg to differ.” Tyche pointed to Charly, who looked like she was about to explode.

“Oh, right. Archery - “

“You are IN that event, how could you forget!?” she finally erupted, more out of confusion than anything resembling anger.

“I learned firearms first?” he begged.

Charly grunted and scrunched her face. “Fine. I can accept that as a semi-reasonable excuse.”

I shook my head at their antics. Despite years of watching the two goof around, it was always adorable to watch men twice her size cower from the feisty ball of energy.

She was still teasing him. “I still think you owe me an apology.”

“Charly, I’m sorry,” he sighed with no real sincerity behind it.

“Mmmm, not good enough.” She tapped her chin with her finger and took out an eye-scorchingly yellow candy bar - which, by now I knew was just chocolate and caramel, but was still cringeworthy to watch. “I think…. You should make me dumplings.”

“Those take forever,” he whined, kneeling and clasping his hands. “You always want them from scratch.”

“They taste better from scratch,” she pointed out around a bite of her snack.

Tyche nodded. “They really do.”

And there it was. He was defeated, as our entire family stared at him in anticipation. With a heavy air, he hung his head. “Fine,” came the mumbled reply. “What kind?”

Quiet cheers sounded, along with fist bumps and in one case money exchanging hands. “Chicken and veg, pork and veg, and seafood,” Charly cackled.

I was pretty sure I was the only one who could hear Maverick mutter “I just got so played…”

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans will try anything #humans are space orcs #weapons #skill #service animals #found family #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #science fiction #sci fi #scifi #original science fiction #original sci fi #hfy

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ofstoriesandstardust · 3 years

Text

Champagne Problems-Diego Hargreeves

a/n: WHO’S READY FOR THE ANGST?! here we go lol. i’ve never written a song-inspired fic but here we are. this part 1 of of my 2 valentine’s day fics. the other is a cute luther fic and hopefully I’ll be able to write more umbrella academy so... NO I HAVE NOT FINISHED SEASON 2 DON’T COME FOR ME. i’m also totally willing to write a second part to this, especially after i hurt myself so bad so if it’s something you’re interested in, please let me know. listening to champagne problems during this is probably a good idea. this also exists minorly in my law and order: special victims unit x the umbrella academy universe but it’s really only slight mentions of ADA work, so no real connection.

masterlist | prompt list

warnings: ANGST, Hazel, Agnes, and Eudora live and Ben comes back to life because I said so, post-Texas apocalypse but my own storyline because I haven’t finished season 2 yet, my own thoughts and feeling in the form of the main character, Ben’s secretly a history nerd, Tumblr fucked with my spacing and I’m salty

word count: 3,064 (including song lyrics)

You booked the night train for a reason

So you could sit there in this hurt

Bustling crowds or silent sleepers

You're not sure which is worse

You always opted to take the cases that kept you up the latest at night, working the hardest to get victims justice. You refused to sleep at night until you knew you’d be able to put a killer or rapist away the next day. Which, in turn, meant that there’d often be nights a detective would call in need of a warrant, already knowing you’d still be awake. However, there would be nights, weeks, even, where it was a small case or no cases at all. Those were the days you’d busy yourself in the office until you had no other reason to be there, finding the later you took the subway home, the fewer people there would be. Usually, the quiet of the night calmed you and gave you time to reflect. Sometimes though, your mind would wander to him.

Because I dropped your hand while dancing

Left you out there standing

Crestfallen on the landing

Champagne problems

Diego had taken you on a drive, bringing you to the city of Manhattan. You always spoke of your love of the city, missing your time spent there while in law school. The two of you had gone for a walk and picnic through Central Park and as the sun was beginning to set, leaving the New York sky a dusty pink, he grabbed your hand as you talked about your favorite memory at the Chinese place just down the road. You paused, looking up at him, seeing the love for swimming within his features. After that night, you had grown to hate the sight of Central Park and avoided it by all means necessary. Your team had never been able to figure out why.

Your mom's ring in your pocket

My picture in your wallet

Although never actually married to Reginald, and despite the fact that she was an AI, Grace had a wedding band she kept tucked away. When Diego had introduced you to Grace, he knew that you would be the one he’d marry. You were so kind to the AI, not batting an eyelash at her charging port or her sometimes distant nature. She was Diego’s mom by all accounts, and he’d be damned if he was going to live the rest of his life with a girl who didn’t respect his mother. Despite Diego’s fear, you and the AI got on splendidly and at the end of the night, when you were talking to Pogo, Grace brought the boy upstairs and slipped him the small band. She smiled at him and Diego had to restrain himself from crushing the sweet women in a hug. “Just in case.” she had said.

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

Champagne problems

Diego had tried from the very beginning to be honest with you that he came with a lot of issues. Building trust had been difficult and a fragile process. You had been patient and kind and understanding and everything he was certain he didn’t deserve. Diego slowly learned to let his walls and heart open to you and by the end of it, Diego believed that you had melted his heart of ice and worked your way into his life and family. Until you turned away, dropping the ice heart, shattering it.

You told your family for a reason

You couldn't keep it in

When you and Diego had first met, it had been purely by accident. You were just moving into the apartment across the hall from Vanya’s and he had come barreling down the stairs after Five. After knocking you and one too many boxes to the ground, Diego profusely apologized, concerned eyes flitting across you to make sure that you indeed weren’t hurt. He had offered to help you finish moving your belongings, wanting a few more minutes with the pretty girl on the stairs. You agreed and asked if he would be interested in grabbing dinner with you that night since you didn’t know anywhere in town. He agreed and the two of you had always considered that your unofficial first date. As the two of you grew closer and Diego’s family became interested in the mysterious ADA with whom he spent all his time, the more determined Diego became to shelter you from them. His family came with a lot of baggage, a lot of trouble, and you had enough just trying to put the bad guys away. But as he became more certain he wanted you in his life for a long time, the more he knew he wanted to tell his siblings. After the apocalypse, he and his siblings had tried to repair the broken bridges and had been successful for the most part. So, one night, at family dinner, he looked around at his siblings, laughing at some witty comment Five had made, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself. The siblings went quiet, looking over at him. You had just met Grace a few days ago, and he was sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. “I think I’m going to marry her.”

Your sister splashed out on the bottle

Now no one's celebrating

Allison had been the most excited, wanting to plan an elaborate engagement scheme, wanted to help him pick out the ring. He let her too, unsure of really what to do, and was happy to see her so excited about something. She had convinced Diego to introduce you to her and Vanya, wanting to get to know you, to accurately help Diego (and of course to get to know her future sister-in-law, with whom she was determined to be best friends). As the date that they had settled on drew nearer, she bought an expensive bottle of champagne, stating that only the finest would do for her brother’s engagement. Diego rolled his eyes, but deep down he appreciated that she cared about him this much to help him. When Diego returned to the Academy that night, unannounced and much later than originally intended, Allison immediately knew something was wrong. The siblings looked around at each other, in shock and disbelief. No one had really thought you’d say no.

Dom Pérignon, you brought it

No crowd of friends applauded

You weren’t sure why Diego brought the bottle of champagne with him, and he wasn’t sure either, both knowing you didn’t drink. As you stared at him, and he stared at you, hurt flickering across the other’s face, all Diego could focus on was the fact that he brought that stupid bottle of champagne. Why had he listened to Allison, or Vanya, or any of the Hargreeves for that matter? Diego was not meant to get a happy ending, he was sure of it. And he had gone and tempted fate and had gotten the heart-breaking answer he knew all along.

Your hometown skeptics called it

Champagne problems

The Hargreeves had taken Diego out to Griddy’s that night, not sure what else to do with him. Hazel and Agnes looked at him, pity in their eyes. The police chief of the town was there, the one who had despised Diego entirely and was entirely infuriated when he had found out his favorite ADA was “messing around” with the disgraced ex-police officer-turned-vigilante. He looked at the pity party that seemed to be happening in honor of Diego and laughed. “She always was too good for you. Glad she finally realized it.”

You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches

And I couldn't give a reason

Diego had a speech, he had. He’d prepared it with Grace and Allison and had practiced it a million times over, to make sure he wouldn’t stutter. Klaus and Ben had listened patiently, giving him pointers and Vanya had even helped him rewrite it when he thought it wasn’t conveying what he wanted to say. And yet, as he looked at you, he couldn’t think of a single word of it. He was nervous, sure, but he was so consumed by the love he felt for you, that he just blurted out, “Wanna get married?”. He offered wondered if he had given you a speech, told you how much he loved you, why he loved you, if you’d still be with him.

Champagne problems

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure

"This dorm was once a madhouse"

I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

Diego had been so nervous bringing you to the Academy to meet his siblings. He wasn’t sure how’d you react to the dysfunction of his family and he was terrified in anticipation of what the siblings might say or do that would scare you off. Luckily, you and Klaus had immediately become attached at the hip and you were already familiar with Vanya. Luthor and Five had been cold at first, waiting to see if they were up to their standards and if you had ulterior motives with Diego. You, of course, passed with flying colors and by the end of the night, you had them laughing and sharing embarrassing stories of Diego. Allison was enthused and happy to welcome you to the family. Ben had engaged you in a deep conversation about the legacy of ancient civilizations long after anyone else cared to listen or contribute. Still, Diego had been nervous it was all a front as to not have the dinner be awkward and uncomfortable. As he drove back to your (unofficially shared) apartment, he had joked that his house was a madhouse. You had seen right through him, knowing he was trying to apologize for the chaos that is his family and that is, well, Klaus. You had laughed and told him that if you could survive in your madhouse of a family, you could survive in his too.

How evergreen, our group of friends

Don't think we'll say that word again

As Diego looked back on your relationship, he looked for signs that you were unhappy, or wanting to leave. He was unable to come up with any, with the exception of one. You and Diego never fought. It couldn’t have been healthy but there was… never anything to fight about. You were both okay with the other’s line of work, and while not perfect, Diego was learning to be open and honest with you about what he needed from the relationship and you had always been so receptive to that. Ben had once joked that he hadn’t seen plants so evergreen as your relationship. You had laughed and Diego smiled, happy he had someone that was so easy to be with after all the hardship he’d experienced in his life. Now all Diego could do was look back on that memory with the bitter taste of regret.

And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls

That we once walked through

Christmas had been your favorite holiday ever since you were a child. As you had gotten older, the excitement faded, but the cheer and happiness that came from watching old Christmas films and dancing to songs in your kitchen as you baked cookies found its way into your heart without fail every year. So, when the first Christmas with Diego came around, you had cautiously asked him if he’d like to celebrate it with you. Diego tried not to speak too much on Reginald, and from what you knew about the man, Christmas didn’t seem like something that was being celebrated at the Umbrella Academy. Diego had shrugged, saying he didn’t really know what Christmas was about to know if he’d enjoy celebrating it or not. Thus, you had taken Diego to look at lights and watched all your favorite Christmas movies as a child and listened to songs while baking family recipes and he had even helped you decorate the apartment. By the time Christmas rolled around, Diego had started to understand why you cherished the holiday so much. But waking up the morning of Christmas to gifts you had picked out for him, one making up for every year he lost out on what Christmas was supposed to be like, he felt his heart growing three sizes more, like the Grinch from the night before. Diego had never felt a love as pure when he looked at you.

The next year had been no different, just on a larger scale as the whole Hargreeves clan joined in this time. That year, Christmas morning found the Hargreeves boys whisper-yelling at Diego about how he had found the perfect woman as they woke to an abundant amount of gifts under the tree. You dragged Vanya and Allison down the stairs, insisting the family had to open presents together. Klaus had insisted he act as Santa, stating the real Santa should get to sit with her boyfriend. You hadn’t protested, seeing how much a kick he got out of the hat and curled up into Diego as he sat with his back against the arm of the couch. Diego ran his fingers through your hair, and you laid your head against his chest. Luther, wide-eyed, asked you how you were able to pay for all of it. You had shrugged and stated that being an ADA paid you a much larger salary than you knew what to do with and moving out of Manhattan meant a lot less on rent. When Vanya asked why you’d bother spending all that money on them, your response had ensured to Diego that he’d found the right one. “Well, you guys are like family to me. And you never got the Christmases I grew up with and it’s all about making other people happy. I wanted to give you back the Christmas you never had.”

As he looked around at the decorated Academy this year, Klaus and Ben insisting on continuing the tradition you left behind, Diego just felt an overwhelming sense of hatred of the colors and lights. All just painful reminders of what he lost. Of the girl who left.

One for the money, two for the show

I never was ready, so I watch you go

Sometimes you just don't know the answer

'Til someone's on their knees and asks you

Luther was the only one who could never quite believe you were with Diego totally and completely. Maybe the misgivings came from his strained relationship with the second Hargreeves boy but he always believed you were in it for one of two reasons. Either the money that came with Hargreeves fortune or the fame that came with the Hargreeves name. Of course, Luther wasn’t you, and would never understand the real reason you had said…

“No.” Diego looked at you, hand on his pocket, ready to give you Grace’s ring, unsure if his fear was playing tricks with his head. You shook your head, “No, Diego. I’m sorry.” When those words had left Diego’s mouth, your heart had stopped. You loved Diego, more than anything you had ever known, but the untold horrors of your life before Diego came rushing to the surface and began to choke you. How could you marry Diego when you couldn’t disclose the worst moments of your life to him for fear of being a burden on the already broken boy? You realized at that moment, you could be everything Diego needed, but you would never allow Diego to be everything you needed, setting your relationship hurtling for sure-fire failure. You gasped, the tears threatening to render you breathless. “Diego, I-” And in a moment of pure, blind panic, you grabbed your things and ran, leaving the boy devastated behind you.

"She would've made such a lovely bride

What a shame she's fucked in her head, " they said

A few weeks after that night, Diego found himself alone at the Academy with Five. The two of them were sitting at the bar, not saying much. Finally, Five put his drink down on the table and looked at Diego. “I am really sorry about her, Diego.” Diego looked up at Five. “It’s a shame she’s got too many issues up here,” he said, tapping his head, “to give you what you wanted. She was one-of-a-kind.”

“What are you talking about Five?” Diego questioned, mildly annoyed Five brought you up.

“Did she give you a reason why, Diego?” Number 2 shook his head. “She always seemed to have her own issues, her own baggage, she was never willing to discuss. Maybe her issues with marriage was one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous Five, she would’ve told me.” Diego said, taking a sip of his drink. But as he thought about it, the more he wondered if Five was right. You had told him about your less-than-ideal relationship with your family and disclosed the fact that you didn’t drink due to a genetic predisposition of being an alcoholic, but he had always sensed there was something more you wouldn’t share.

But you'll find the real thing instead

She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

And hold your hand while dancing

One night, he ran into Eudora at Griddy’s making a midnight waffle run for the family. She told him she had heard about the failed proposal and that if he ever wanted or needed to talk, she’d be there. He called her a few days later, and the two of them met up at a bar for a few drinks. He told her about you and that night, and as Diego talked about it, he realized that pain subsided. The outings to the bar became weekly occurrences and he found himself enjoying the company and comfort Eudora offered. And as Eudora found her way back into his life, as time went on, Diego realized he thought of you less and less.

Never leave you standing

Crestfallen on the landing

With champagne problems

Your mom's ring in your pocket

Her picture in your wallet

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

You won't remember all my

Champagne problems

#champagne problems by taylor swift #champagne problems #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves fic

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the-sole-macgyver · 4 years

Note

Have you ever seen that Meme of a 2 year old stabbing a man in the thigh and the man pepper spraying the two-year-old? So that being said my question is how would the fallout 4 companions react to the sole survivor being able to completely rebuild a fully functional car and taking them out on a Joyride?

You know what? You got me, I honestly thought you were going to ask me to write about the companions reacting to Sole getting stabbed by a toddler or something. You got me good.

Prompt:Companions react to Sole rebuilding a fully functional car and taking them on a joyride

Excluded companions are: none

Note: if there are any characters, ie: faction leaders or let’s say synth!Codsworth that anyone would like to be included please feel free to ask!

Warnings: mentions of car accidents,mentions of drug use, mentions of violence, swearing under cut

Cait: The first thing she does before getting anywhere near the car is have Sole place targets around the road- mail-boxes, wooden poles sticking out of the ground, vaguely people shaped structures made of the old picket fences. When she actually does get in the car she’s halfway out the window, swinging her bat and decimating mail-box and picket-person alike, wood goes flying, much to the dismay of the unlucky settlers who end up scattering to the relative safety of their homes. Cait doesn’t care about that though, she’s cheering and having a grand old time. When the carnage is finally over she’ll admit to Sole that she had wanted to do something like that for a long time.

Codsworth:”Oh, Sir/ma'am this is absolutely marvellous!” it takes some adjusting of the passenger side before Codsworth can actually fit in it, and not have his thruster ignite the interior with them both trapped inside, but eventually they manage and though he does enjoy the ride, and he is grateful Sole went to such lengths to allow him to fit in the car, what he is really excited about is the prospect of finally having a car to polish again.

Curie:Her eyes light up the way they usually do when she is presented with something new and she is over to the car in a flash asking many questions- like how Sole got it to run, how had they managed to build such a thing without any of them noticing?, it takes a moment to finally corral her into the seat, and another moment of adjusting seat-belts before they’re off doing laps around Sanctuary, Curie’s attention being split between marvelling about the car and enjoying the ride, She would definitely ask to ride in the car again later, for science, of coarse.

Deacon:“So, like, can I see your licence Orrr..?” he’s shaking in either excitement or fear, he’s read the old world books about these things- both the good ones applauding the designs and engineering, and the horrible ones with the mangled hunks of metal that were left after a crash. But he gets in any way, and pretends to steer his own wheel as Sole drives around the cleaned up road of Sanctuary. He fully enjoys himself and pretends to drift as they go around the tree. Loud, obnoxious, barely accurate sounds and all. Later on he’ll ask if Sole can fix up one of the old trains, for ‘totally legit Railroad business’-so they can smuggle synths out of the commonwealth en masse- and not just because he wants to pretend to drive a train as well, nope, not at all.

Dogmeat: Finally, after roughly 200 years, there is a dog sticking his head out of the passenger side window of a car. He loves it, the car ride is all the best parts of zooming without the inevitable exhaustion. He goes fast, he barks at passing animals and people alike, he has the energy to go for a walk later. Today is, as are all days with Sole, very good.

John Hancock: Hell yes. Hell. Fucking. Yes. He’s all for it, he wants to see how fast this thing will go, he wants to stick his hand out the window and feel the air resistance, heck, he wants to stick his whole torso out the window- just because! He wants to take a hit of Jet and see if they can push this thing so fast the world looks like its moving at normal speed, there’s so much he wants to try that it takes a while to actually get him in the car. One chem break consisting of Mentats later and he has even more things he wants to try in the car.

Nick Valentine: Nick has a smile on his face as soon as Sole shows him the car they had chosen to rebuild, he makes a comment about how the old Nick had a car just like this and doesn’t notice Sole trying not to laugh at that. They’ed rebuilt a car they could imagine an old detective driving, and apparently they were right on the money. Sole lets Nick drive and though he’s rusty, and though he had never driven a car in this body, the smile on his face is so worth it. It possibly becomes their Detective Car™ .

Danse:“Outstanding work soldier” he’s impressed with the vehicle, he’s not so impressed that he has to get out of his power armour to actually get in the car, which he makes a comment about being a tactical disadvantage though he eventually admits that access to cars would benefit the Brotherhood soldiers around the base, and at the very least the scribes on the field. He spends so much time on thinking about how this could benefit the Brotherhood he doesn’t actually give himself the time to enjoy the ride.

Piper:” OH! Jeez Blue! You made this? Like, with you’re own two hands?” Piper has this amazing ability to both enjoy herself and interview Sole about the car they are currently travelling in, they only do a few laps around Sanctuary before she’s got a whole article- Front page stuff-The Sole Survivor:Transporting The Commonwealth To A Brighter Future?, it’s a working title, which is fine, after all her printing press is all the way back in Diamond city. She’ll try to convince Sole to drive her all the way there.

Preston: He’s personally familiar with the majority of Sole’s restoration projects, and though nothing has collapsed and killed someone yet, he’s still cautious about getting in something Sole has made to move. In the end his trust for the General wins out and despite his earlier reservations he has a wide smile on his face, laughing and giving a little ‘whoop’ at the end of it- Once again he’s grateful that he placed his trust in Sole.

MacCready: He’s giggling like a little girl as soon as he gets in, before it even starts up. When it does start up he squeals, which he tries to cover up with a cough. He’s smiling at first but sooner or later he goes green- apparently it doesn’t take much to get him motion sick, and though he’s grateful Sole let him ride in it once, he won’t be getting in it again anytime soon.

Strong: Strong doesn’t fit in a car and even if he did he wouldn’t get in it, he doesn’t see the point in it and he doesn’t like the loud, irritating noise it makes. He gets angry and threatens to smash it with Sole inside, needless to say, the car is kept well away from him after that encounter.

X6-88: He’s silently impressed, but not at all surprised when he sees the car for the first time and though he admires Sole, he finds most of what they build looks precarious at best, even still he relents with minimal complaining. Getting in he’s stiff and when it starts moving he’s got the seat in a death grip, if Sole takes a corner too hard he’s swearing and when it finally stops he gets out quicker than his calm demeanour would suggest was necessary. He’d compliment Sole on building the car but he wouldn’t be getting back in it.

Ada: They have to take out and re-position the whole front passenger seat to fit her in and when they finally do manage they take a leisurely cruise around Sanctuary, though they speed up when she asks whether or not the car has a warp drive. When they finally complete the task of getting her back out of the car she thanks them for the nice time she had, handing them an aluminium can in thanks.

Old Longfellow: He’d read some books in his youth about these things, never thought he’d see one up and running in person though, he gets in feeling that kind of nostalgic giddiness from thinking about his youth and a need to at least humour Sole, what he didn’t know getting in was how fast this thing could go and he ends up squawking and swearing like, well, a sailor. He’ll deny it later but he also won’t get back into the car any time soon.

Porter Gage:The first thing he suggests upon seeing the car is to weld spikes to the front bumper, the second thing he suggests doing is driving into people and seeing if they get stuck on the spikes or ripped to shreds. Riding around in the car kind of reminds him of the rides in Nuka-World, which leads to him bellowing “Faster!”, despite things going by in a blur. He’s sure if they get this thing armoured up they could easily plough through any settlements defenses, and look cool as Hell doing it.

Addendum:I do not have a beta reader and I am dyslexic, I do proof read everything but am bound to make mistakes- and I would like to apologise in advance for any I have missed.

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taexual · 4 years

Text

HOLIC - 50 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: fluff

words: 3.1k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

the final chapter is up, let’s get it!

prev / next

To say that it was raining cats and dogs would have been akin to saying nothing at all because the precipitation that night resembled a whole downpour of whales much more accurately. You have, of course, experienced rain before and you never really appreciated it much, but as you exited the car outside of the building, you welcomed every drop with a smile on your face. It seemed as though there used to be so many things in life that you’d hated, but tonight, as you texted Jaebum, announcing your arrival at the party, each of those silent moments of hatred seemed to lose all meaning.

The waiter took your coat after you entered the empty loft that you and Jackson had picked out for tonight’s event. Giving him a grateful nod and brushing the wet hair away from your face, you grabbed a glass of champagne by the door and headed for the party. With each step that you took inside of the packed venue – full of people, waiting to hear and to congratulate Jaebum on his debut EP – you watched the white walls of the building come alive with the pictures you’ve taken of Jaebum in Jackson’s studio that very first time you were there.

You wanted to take partial credit for the planning of this event, but really, it had been Jackson’s idea. As soon as you and him started to work together, he didn’t see a point to host your exhibition on a separate night from Jaebum’s release party because the two instances were connected so closely to one another. Jaebum had used you for inspiration when he worked on the songs he’ll be putting out for the world to hear and, similarly, the only pictures you wanted to exhibit for all to see were the ones that featured Jaebum.

Now, smiling as your eyes searched for the live-version of the man in the pictures on the walls, you welcomed the warm memories of all the days leading up to this moment. All the fights and the make-ups. All the kisses and inside jokes. All your shared friends – who were all here, eager to congratulate you and Jaebum both – and all of your shared nights.

The title piece for both, your exhibition and Jaebum’s EP, greeted you in the center of the room, reading in bold letters, “HOLIC. indicating a person’s abnormal desire for something.” Another memory sparked in your mind – you’ve only settled on the title a few nights ago, lying awake next to Jaebum who was tracing symbols on the sensitive skin of your neck—symbols, that were only visible to him—with the tip of his finger.

“I’ve never needed anyone this much before,” he had whispered to you then, “so much that it feels like an illness without a cure.”

You had responded to him with endless confessions of love, lasting all throughout the night and well into the morning, and all was decided.

Admittedly, out of all the memories that the pictures on the walls brought back, the memories of the last few nights before this party were your most favorite ones. Even if thinking about them made you much dizzier – and hotter – than the champagne that was being served here.

“Hey!” Jackson’s shrill voice distracted you and you turned your head to see him and a group of executives you thought you’ve seen around his studio a few times before. “Where’s the boyfriend? We should get some pictures taken of you two together.”

“Oh,” you looked around again. “I thought you were with him. Isn’t he in the back?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson glanced towards the hallway at the end of the room – it lead to a storage room that Jaebum had planned to use to rehearse, “he was waiting for you to arrive.”

“I’ll go find him,” you said and, with a quick nod at the people in Jackson’s entourage, excused yourself.

You didn’t even reach the hallway before you saw the door open at the far end as Jaebum stepped out of the storage room, his shoulders hunched and chest heavy with anxiety. He closed the door, stopping short as soon as he saw you.

“You’re here,” he said and, even though it was too dark to see him, you could hear the smile in his voice. “You look beautiful. Maybe you shouldn’t come closer or else we might miss the entire event.”

You laughed, crossing the hallway anyway, because you haven’t seen him today yet – he’d left early for a soundcheck and refused to bring you along with him, not wanting you to hear his songs early – and that was too long of a time. Jaebum, feeling exactly the same way, had his arms wrapped around you as soon as you stopped close enough for him to reach.

Every kiss you’ve shared since reuniting that night in the lounge room felt so important and special that you both refused to pull away first as if this was the last kiss you’d ever share and neither of you wanted to be responsible for its ending. You didn’t mind losing yourself in him completely whenever your lips touched but, this time, you two were about to start the biggest night of your lives to date and, despite everything, you had to pull away.

“Jackson is looking for us,” you said, reluctantly breaking the kiss—and then regretting it right away because of how alluring he looked from up close. “He said something about getting our picture taken.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Jaebum groaned. He’d already talked about how little wish he had to participate in the promotional aspect of making music – he just wanted to create and to sing – but he knew he wouldn’t get out of it. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t look so sad,” you said, taking his hand into yours as the two of you headed towards the party. “It’s your big night.”

“It’s our big night,” he corrected, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek just as the two of you emerged from the hallway. The few photographers Jackson had hired for tonight immediately found the two of you, their flashes going off so suddenly and with such vehemence that nearly everyone at the party turned to look. “God, I feel awkward.”

Smiling, you turned to look at him and – not daring to kiss him now that there were cameras on you – chose to fix his tie for him instead. “Don’t. You look great.”

Jaebum watched you as you tightened his tie, his eyes providing the much-needed warmth on this rainy day – the photographers were having a field day and they didn’t even have to try – and then leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I’m so grateful to have you next to me tonight.”

“I love you,” you replied, his hand clutching yours tighter. “I never thought we’d make it this far.”

“I love you,” he echoed, “I never had doubts about this.”

Thankfully, Jackson proved to be not just a great friend and a talented artist – or perhaps a producer? A photographer? A model? The man clearly hated labels – but also a fantastic party host. Another few moments later, when you and Jaebum were already risking permanent eye damage from the camera flashes, Jackson shuffled closer to you, waving his hand around in a manner so authoritative, the photographers ceased their rapid flash fire immediately.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” Jackson asked and, after getting affirmative nods from both of you, he proceeded to walk Jaebum to the platform in the far corner of the room.

A microphone and a stool was already prepared for Jaebum on the platform, the audio engineers giving him a thumbs-up from across the room. Slowly, the background music that had played through the speakers since the party started faded out, and the room prepared to finally hear what they’d come here to hear.

“Thank you for coming,” Jaebum said into the microphone as soon as he climbed on the platform. His voice sounded so sheepish, you could tell that the few elderly ladies behind you had started to giggle because they were falling in love with him, too. “It’s a very special night tonight and I’m happy to get to share it with all of you.”

You wished for nothing more than to stand silently in the opposite corner of the room where you could hear Jaebum’s clear voice but, as soon as he finished his thank-you speech and introduced the first song, you learned that that was absolutely not going to happen.

Your friends were the first ones who approached you, trying to keep their excitement to a minimum but still distracting you from Jaebum’s music. You didn’t mind – it felt so touching to hear their words of support – and you didn’t really mind the people from Jaebum’s agency who approached you next, either, because, for one, you felt like you had to leave a good impression on them, but also, they were unexpectedly supportive as well. Apparently, this was the first acoustic-showcase-turned-photography-exhibition for any artist signed with their label and that was, according to them, a great start for any career.

You got to hear Jaebum finish the first song – and saw how lost in the music he seemed to be on that platform; he looked like he was exploring a different world, far away from the party and the people here – and applauded as loud as every other person in the room before, just as he started to introduce the next song, you were forced to return to the position of co-host and carry on with your own performance.

Apparently, the people who had come tonight weren’t just friends and acquaintances, but complete strangers as well. They had simply gotten curious about an event in their neighborhood and decided to show up. You learned of this when Jaebum’s second song of the night unleashed a chain of people you’ve never met – all of them were curious about purchasing the artwork. Your artwork.

Truthfully, you hadn’t even planned on selling any of your pictures, so, flushed and disheveled, you left them waiting while you scanned the party for Jackson.

“I got this,” he reassured you as soon as you found him – he was chatting up the three elderly ladies from before – and explained the situation. “You go to the front, yeah? He needs to see you.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, overwhelmed by so many things happening at the same time. “Thank you!”

Jackson nodded and headed in the direction you had pointed in, while you made your way closer to Jaebum’s platform. For the first few moments, you couldn’t concentrate on the sound of his voice for too long. You kept turning around to check on Jackson who was showing your pictures and bargaining with anyone who was interested. But, before long, Jaebum’s songs ended up captivating you after all. It was simply impossible not to feel yourself wander into the realms he’d created with his soulful music.

Watching him was an all-consuming experience. Jaebum kept his eyes closed for most of the songs but whenever he did allow himself to look at the audience, his eyes always found you by default. That alone was enough to make your heart race but every time he smiled when he looked at you – as if he wasn’t expecting to see you standing at the front, completely transfixed by him – sent you right into a dizzy spell and you were worried you’d conclude this night by passing out before hearing his entire set.

“The last song,” Jaebum announced right when your cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much, “is easily the most meaningful one in the EP. It’s about someone who’s really important to me. The most important, actually. Uh, we met under unusual circumstances, to be honest. I caused a lot of damage in this person’s life – I broke furniture, even,” he had to pause until the audience stopped laughing, “I was generally a very big asshole. But this person and I went through a lot a-and I hope we go through a lot more together.”

When Jaebum looked at you before the first chords started to play, you were afraid you looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Your heart was struggling to keep beating as the time around you seemed to come to a stop.

“You and I, who met by accident,” he started the song, the richness of his voice so much more prominent when he was singing live than it was on the record, “you never even thought about us, but my head is completely filled with thoughts of you. I think about you every moment of the day.”

You tried to focus on your breathing because focusing on the words he was singing – the words he might have written about you – was making your hands shake and your eyes water. This could have been the very song Jackson had mentioned when he confronted you at the exhibition you’d attended with Jiho.

“Without missing a single day, no matter where I am, I want to be with you,” he sang and you perked up, recognizing the last line. This was the same song—the same melody, the similar lyrics!—that you’d overheard Jaebum sing to himself in the shower at the motel all of those weeks ago. “I don’t want to be apart, not for one moment. Let’s make a promise, the two of us.”

You’d have promised him anything in that moment—and any moment that followed—as you listened to him sing, your entire body coming alive with each chord. You could feel your pulse throb in your veins, your temples, and your throat all at the same time.

“Each gesture of yours is picturesque. Even when you wake up in the morning, you sparkle,” Jaebum’s voice continued, his eyes catching yours in a loving—and absolutely unyielding—gaze. “It wouldn’t matter if you were shabby, you’re already inside of my heart. Even if someone else comes along, no one compares to you.”

Your throat was dry but your eyes were the complete opposite. You felt the first tears slip out of your control and slide down your cheeks -- just like the raindrops had, outside of the loft -- as soon as Jaebum gripped the mic stand tighter, starting the chorus of the song.

“I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you,” he harmonised, his eyes closing but his heart remaining open as words spilled out from the deepest cavities of his chest, “I am spiraling out of control. All I wanna do is love you, the spot next to me naturally belongs to you.”

You flinched, startled by an unexpected hand that had landed on your shoulder just as the chorus drew to a close. Tearing your eyes away from Jaebum, you saw Jackson next to you – a proud, almost fatherly, smile on his face. He didn’t say anything but the nod of his head confirmed what little doubts you may have had left – this was the song for you. The song about you.

“When I think about it now, it still makes no sense,” Jaebum continued, the feeling of you finally hearing these words so relieving, he couldn’t help the small smile that had crept up to his lips as he asked, “how did I fall for you in such a short time? Even when I close my eyes, I’m thinking about you. I can’t fall asleep, what’s the matter?”

You knew you were going through the most powerful whirlpool of emotions of your life as you felt the tears on your cheeks but couldn’t resist mirroring Jaebum’s smile.

“I don’t know if I’m me, sometimes I get surprised. My image, even if it’s the same, is a little awkward,” he sang, each and every word full of the feelings he’d grasped and pulled out of his heart to put them into the song. “But I think it’s okay – this isn’t so bad, either. As long as I’m next to you, whoever I am, it’s all good.”

You felt so much love for him, you thought you were going to explode. And, in spite of finding the song simply mesmerizing and utterly unforgettable, you suddenly couldn’t wait for it to end because even though he was singing it on a platform a mere few feet away from you, he still felt too far.

“I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you,” he admitted again in the second chorus. When asked later, you’d never be able to tell if he was singing this song at his release party in front of dozens of people, or if he had pulled you away from the crowd to sing to you about all the things he’d insisted he was so bad at saying out loud.

Bowing to deafening applause when the song ended, Jaebum thanked everyone once again, his speech directed at those who came and those who didn’t. He thanked his friends individually. He thanked his label and everyone involved in the creation process. He thanked his family. And he thanked you – but you were already crying too much to make sense of anything he was saying.

As soon as he was finished, he wasted no time before climbing off the platform and, with a smile brighter than the brightest star in the night sky, he made his way towards you. The people were still applauding him when he reached you but he was now focused on something else entirely.

“You didn’t like the song?” he asked with a smile as his hands carefully wiped the tears away from your face.

You laughed at the absurd question, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head against his shoulder as you whispered, “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said and the room erupted into a yet another round of applause as he hugged you back, laughing in the same ethereal way that made your heart dance and the rain outside stop, so the whole world could listen.

With the people around you still on a high brought on by Jaebum’s music and with the applause still ringing in your ears, Jaebum took you back into the world he’d created for you and him only -- a world that seemed to be miles away from anyone else and lightyears away from real life. No one wanted to approach you and interrupt. No one dared.

Kissing your temple, Jaebum pulled away slightly to push a stray strand of your hair away from your face and ask, “do you still have doubts if we’ll make it?”

“No,” you answered, your eyes glittering with life and with love. “I think we’ve already made it.”

chapter directory

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martinskis-lydias · 4 years

Text

for i need your love

pairing: Scott x Stiles

word count: 1642

warnings: kidnapping but i don’t think it’s really that bad?? it’s not graphic and there’s no torture or anything

Scott had fallen in love with Stiles gradually. So much so that he hadn’t even realized he was in love with his best friend until it was too late. He couldn’t say what made him fall in love, or when it had started. Perhaps he’d always loved him, or maybe it had just gone from platonic, brotherly affection to head-over-heels adoration over the years.

It didn’t matter, not really. He was hopelessly in love with Stiles and that was that.

The thing about Stiles was that he had always been there, always helped, always trusted him, never made him feel guilty about his faults or his mistakes. And Stiles wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was everything Scott wanted.

And as cliché as it sounded, he wasn’t sure if it was worth telling Stiles. Not because he didn’t think love was worth risking everything for, he was a big believer in love being the most important thing. But he was terrified of the consequences that could come from this change.

What if he told Stiles and Stiles didn’t feel the same? What if it ruined their friendship, or worse, ended it completely? What if Stiles did feel the same but they ended up breaking up later?

He was just scared of the possibilities, and while he knew some of those possibilities could be good, could work out, he wasn’t sure if his friendship with Stiles was worth the risk.

So he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t dated, he’d controlled the impulse to growl at anyone that flirted with Stiles, and he acted like he always had.

He played video games with Stiles, they hugged and bumped shoulders (they had always been tactile, even before Scott was bit), they called each other when Scott was off on a lead about the Hunters or Stiles was working a case, and they had each other’s backs.

Everything had been going great, just as he’d planned, until it wasn’t.

Scott had been in a motel with Liam, Argent in the room beside them, when Scott heard them. The telltale sound of soft, careful footsteps, the smell of wolfsbane and gunpowder. There were Hunters outside their doors.

“Liam,” Scott had whispered as quietly as possible. “Stay quiet and calm. Leave through the bathroom window. Get help. Go. Now.” He would have texted Argent but he wasn’t fast enough to get out in time.

Liam hadn’t argued, though Scott knew he’d really wanted to. Liam had been doing this enough to trust Scott, to know when he should stay and fight and when he should bide his time and get back up.

Scott was proud of how much he’d grown in the past couple years.

Seconds after Liam was out of the motel, the front door had been kicked in and Scott had been ready to fight. But then he’d felt the sting of a tranquilizer dart and had blacked out before the Hunters even came in focus.

The last thought he’d had: Well, fuck.

That was how he’d found himself here: in a dingy warehouse, chained to a chair, and listening to a few voices arguing on the other side of the building. They were too far away to understand what they were saying but he knew what arguing sounded like.

“Nice of you to join me,” Argent said beside him. He sounded bored, like he frequently woke up tied to a chair and with the possibility of death or torture incoming.

“I think they went a little overboard with the tranq,” Scott answered. “I still feel a little groggy. Amateurs?” He asked, hoping Argent had gotten a better look at them.

“I think so. I woke up as they were chaining you up and they didn’t seem to know what was enough to restrain you. They sound like they’re new to this, possibly trying to gain a little recognition by catching a True Alpha and a Traitor to the Cause,” Argent was smirking, Scott could hear it in his tone.

“I warned Liam just before they busted in, he’s getting help. I would have texted you but I didn’t hear them until it was too late,” Scott told him apologetically.

“I know, I heard them. I knew I wouldn’t be fast enough to get away. It’s good you got Liam out to get help. I have a feeling these guys will be tracked relatively easily,” Argent said. Scott nodded his agreement.

A few minutes later Scott heard the voices getting closer. He straightened up a little and he heard Argent do the same.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting of these Hunters, but he was a little surprised. There were three of them, but Scott could hear two more heartbeats just beyond the doorway they’d walked through. The lookouts.

The three he could see looked pretty average, two guys in their mid-twenties flanking a girl who looked no older than twenty. Scott knew that a lot of people had learned about the supernatural in the few years since Monroe had fled Beacon Hills but it still shocked him every time he saw someone his age that wanted to kill him.

“Scott McCall,” the girl said his name with a mocking tone. “No offense but you aren’t exactly what I’d expected.”

Scott snorted at that, as he’d just thought the same thing about her. “Sorry to disappoint. What were you expecting exactly?”

She tilted her head slightly, sizing him up. “More of a stereotypical jock golden boy. You look more like the kind of guy that people fuck around with in college, lots of tattoos, motorcycle, ripped jeans and leather jacket. They puppy eyes are in line with expectations though,” she told him.

Argent snorted. They both knew that the expectation was more accurate than his appearance. He may have gotten more tattoos in the last couple years, but he was definitely not someone who had casual sex or someone who people “fucked around with.”

“And Chris Argent. I’ve heard so much about you,” the girl said, turning to look at Argent with contempt and disgust written all over her face. “You used to be a legendary Hunter, stories were told about you. But now… Here you are, the last of your family, a traitor to Hunters everywhere.”

“Scott is my family. And my family would be proud of who I am if they were here to see it,” Argent replied evenly. “The family whose opinion I care about, that is,” he adds.

Scott felt a surge affection for Argent, a twinge of sadness. The way he always felt when Argent reminded him they were family, when he remembered Allison.

The girl sneered at Argent. “You are just a huge disappointment, siding with this monster, working against everything your father believed in.”

“Sorry, I never caught your name,” Scott interrupted. He was bored of the bad guy monologue, the same shit that everyone said to him and Argent.

“I’m Angelica Grace,” she announced to Scott, as though he should applaud or bow to her. Like she was royalty and he should know who she was.

“Ah,” was his only response.

Angelica’s expression darkened. “You’re saying you’ve never heard of me?”

“Sorry, should I have?” Scott asked.

Before she could start a rant that he could see building up, there were a few gunshots, shouts, thuds, and then silence from the room the lookouts had been. Scott couldn’t see what had happened but he could hear five or six heartbeats in that room now.

Looks like the cavalry had arrived.

The two guys who had been silently lurking behind Angelica turned, shotguns in their hands. But nobody had come through the doorway yet.

“Well, Angelica, this has been swell,” Scott said, smirking.

“But I believe our ride is here,” Argent finished. Scott then heard Argent smash his chair on the concrete floor, freeing himself and immediately rushing the henchmen in front of him. At the same moment, their friends burst through the doorway, overwhelming Angelica and the other goon.

The Hunters were outnumbered and easily subdued. Malia, Liam, and Theo took their weapons and restrained them, while Lydia checked over Argent to make sure he hadn’t been injured too badly during the capture or when he’d broken the chair.

Scott noticed all this subconsciously, but he only had eyes for Stiles. And yes, he’s aware of what a cliché he is. Oh well.

Stiles was rushing towards him, panic and anger written all over his face, slowly being replaced by relief. Before Scott could say anything to reassure his best friend though, Stiles’ hands were in his hair and his mouth was otherwise occupied.

Scott was caught off guard for maybe half a second before he was kissing back enthusiastically, straining against the chains locking him to the chair. He wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around Stiles’ waist, put a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, run his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles pulled back after a few seconds that had felt like a lifetime. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bright.

Scott thought that he’d never looked so beautiful.

After a few seconds of both of them staring and breathing heavily Scott smiled, huge and bright.

“I love you,” Stiles breathed.

“Get me out of these chains and I’ll show you how much I love you, too,” Scott replied. He could hear how rough his voice was, he could also hear Malia, Liam, and Theo fake gagging, but he was concentrating on the shiver that made its way through Stiles before he rushed to unlock the chains that Lydia had found the keys for.

Maybe Scott didn’t know when he’d fallen in love with Stiles. It didn’t matter, not really. He was completely in love with Stiles and now he knew that Stiles loved him back.

#sciles #skittles #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #malia tate #chris argent #lydia martin #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #fanfic #i made this

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lady-of-lies · 4 years

Text

Lost control

A/N: Prompt 20 everyone!! I’m catching up slowly but surely and as always this is not edited at all and not my best work, but I hope it can be enjoyable to someone at least... When the dance scene takes place this was what I imagined but there is nothing descriptive in the peice so you can also just imagine something on your own

Prompt: “Oh, my dear. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Word count: 906

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and shyness

(slight) Tony Stark x reader

Shyness. It’s that thing in the back of your head making even the most trivial matters seem mountain hight. Sure, anxiety may play another part, but the base of it all descended from that darn shyness you had harnessed since childhood. There was only one thing that could calm your mind down once it had begun its hysterical merry-go-round. Dancing. You didn’t have a particular style when dancing, you just let your heart lead your body to the music, baring your soul to the empty room you liked to hide away in.

When you first got onto the team you had thought Tony to be joking as he showed you your room. It was huge. Much too big for someone like you living alone, but he had insisted that each Avenger had a room in a similar size, some even had bigger per special requests or requirements. When he had walked out that day you had just stood paralyzed in the middle of the enormous space. At first you just thought of how lucky you are to be a part of the world's most elite team of heroes, then you let your mind wander for a bit and thought of how on earth you’d ever fill up all the extra floor space you’d gotten.

Since that day you had in your own mind found the perfect interior design. It was both aesthetically pleasing and mind calming in your eyes. Tony had been bothering you a few times if you wanted to borrow some money or if you simply wanted him to buy you some more furniture. Each time that happened you politely declined. You were more than content with your room, true, you might have left a huge chunk of it unfurnished, but that was because of a very simple and very important promise to yourself. You had made a promise that, no matter how hard life got, you would never stop dancing.

Today had been a particularly hard day, nothing had ended the way it was supposed to and your nerves had one by one been put on edge. You felt the carousel of your mind spinning out of control and when you finally had the opportunity to leave for your room you took it without a second thought. That left you were you were currently sitting. On the floor just staring right in front of you trying to make the spinning stop. You should have known better, really, you, if anyone, should know by now that there is only one way to calm down your racing mind and calm the laboured breathing. Dance.

You didn’t even have to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to play your special playlist, when you rose to your feet and shedded a few unnecessary layers of clothing the music started on its own. It was something you made a mental note to thank the al for later, but then again, after all the times you’d found yourself in this situation even a one year old could find a pattern. For a moment you simply stood still, letting the song wash over you in silent waves, and when the moment felt right, you started to move to the beat.

It was a feeling like no other when you moved. You always ended up feeling at peace afterwards. But when the final note ebbed out in the room someone started to applaud behind you. You whirled around so fast you almost fell over, behind you stood none other than the towers original owner. Tony Stark. Your mind started to act up again, a million questions popped up and disappeared as soon as they came. Had he seen you? Had you been too loud? How long had he been standing there? The endless possibilities of questions to ask and just as many answer options, but in the end you went down your default path: the self cautious one.

“Oh, uhm… I’m sorry, did I play too loud?”

For a moment the both of you just staring at each other. Or more accurately, him staring at you while you wanted nothing more than to dig a hole in the ground and sink down in it. How could you have been so careless and forgotten to lock the door? Especially when you know that the other teammates are sitting in a common room right below you as you jump around, you probably made them think there was some sort of attack happening, or you made the chandelier shake in your movements, nether options being believable but to your mind right now nothing was impossible. It took a second for your brain to register Tony talking.

“ - Oh, my dear. You have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. I’m getting you a bigger room.”

And with that he just walked out. He did come back later though, to escort you down the hall, up two floors and to the right. The new room he had designed after you was even bigger than the other one. And that is the story how you ended up with the biggest room in the whole tower, a room that put your old apartment t shame, complete with mirrors, barrés and everything you could ever want. Maybe being a part of this team wasn’t all that bad.

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@theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @indelwen-of-mirkwood @gaia-writes-stuff @sdavid09 @peter-pan-on-neverland @ek823 @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @soradragon @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy

#tale tellers 52 week writing challenge #tale teller's 52 weeks writing challenge #lady of lies #tony stark #tony stark x reader #imagine tony stark #tony stark x you #Avengers #imagine avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #dancing #imagine dance

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the-imagination-archive · 5 years

Text

𝐼 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝑜

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Angel Reader

Based on Billie Eilish’s song “I love you” also the song is being used from Lucifer’s perspective. Please note this might not be completely accurate to the lyrics meaning but it is how I interpret it for the story . Probably going to be long <3

𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝐼’𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒞𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝑜𝑜𝒽 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝑜? 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝑜𝑜𝒽

Lucifer choked on the smooth bourbon as the words left your lips. Shock dripping from his handsome features as he stared at you. Mouth slightly agape he let out a scoff “You love me? What a funny jest Y/n.” he said and raised the glass to his lips once more. “Lucifer i’m not joking. I’ve fallen in love with you.” “I don’t do love. But darling i do applaud you for the theatrics” he chuckled leaning his back against the bar and took another gulp of the amber liquid watching as tears begin streaking your flawless cheeks. “How can you say such a thing? So after everything we’ve done..The intimate moments and sweet words meant nothing? After everything we have been through?!” you shouted with pain lacing every syllable.

He slammed his glass down “Don’t act surprised darling! You knew from the beginning this is how i am- Who i am! This isn’t like you at all Y/n.” he pushed himself off of the bar and sauntered over. “You’ve changed. You’re weak now, an angel falling for-” “This isn’t who you are!” “I AM THE DEVIL THIS IS WHO I AM” he roared in your face as his iris flashed a deep crimson.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before walking past him and straight to the elevator, the loft being taken over by dense silence. The elevator broke the silence as the doors slid open and you stepped in. “You’re wrong Lucifer. This isn’t you... This is you letting yourself be defined by your father.” and with that the doors shut and you wept silently as the distance between you both grew larger. Those words began echoing through his aching head and filled his chest swelled with rage. And as if it would make him feel better he began destroying everything he could get his hands on.

𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀? 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 "𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊" 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜, 𝑜𝑜𝒽

“How dare she say that! Right? What does she know?!” Lucifer ranted as he paced around Linda’s office. He paused to look at her and saw a look of frustration, she gestured to the couch with the slight raise of her dainty hand and he sat. “Lucifer, I think you are masking your fear with anger. I think you may feel afraid that Y/n loves you because you love her too. What scares you the most isn’t just that you feel the same but you are scared of hurting her or you feel unworthy. You are trying to scare her away” She says and puts her clasped hands over her knee and met his gaze with expectancy.

He looked at her as if she had grown another head. He opened his mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come out. He felt every word of truth she spoke stab through his entire being. Her words settled into his thoughts, your pained voice and desperate eyes flashed through his mind and he felt his chest clench. “Doctor i think this is enough for today” he said and stood quickly and tried to hurry for the door but she had latched onto his arm before he could escape.

“Lucifer, as a friend and not a doctor let me tell you this..Y/n never cared who you were or what you had done in the past. She loves you now...and you are deserving of love lucif-” before she could finish her words Lucifer had tugged himself free and rushed out. It was all overwhelming and terrifying. How could an angel love him? How can anyone love the devil?

𝒰𝓅 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒹-𝑒𝓎𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓌𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓁𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝑜 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝒟𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝓇𝓎

He was absolutely riddled with guilt. He couldn’t stop seeing your tear stained face, hearing the desperation in your voice. He was never one who dealt well with emotions hence he was trying to feel anything but guilt.

he was broken out of his guilty daze to the chirp of his phone. He answered and pressed the phone to his ear “Lucifer we have another case. Can you meet me at 9962 Lone Tree way?” “Well of course! I shall see you in a bit Detective” he downed the last bit of his drink and grabbed his keys and coat and made his way to the scene.

Once he arrived he made his way over to Decker “Well Detective show me the good stuff” he said with a forced grin “We’ve got a body Lucifer don’t act so excited” She shook her head and began leading him over to where you and Ella had been taking the pictures and examining the body. “What do we got?” Decker asked as she kneeled down beside you. You finished writing in the notebook and placed the pencil behind your ear.

“Well he has got abrasions on his right shoulder as well as a bit on his face and his leg. I’m thinking he was thrown from a moving vehicle” you said and stood up and Ella nodded “But that wasn’t what killed him.” she paused to roll the body over and revealed several bloodied marks on his back “Stab wounds” you said and Decker nodded “So this was a body dump. Thanks guys, good work”

Lucifer had been standing behind Decker just gazing at you during the whole interaction. He sighed and swallowed his pride and stepped toward you “Y/n, would you come over tonight? i believe we have much to talk about” you looked up at him with a painfully blank expression.

“I believe i said all that i could.” “Well...If you change your mind, please come” he said with a voice that was much unlike him. He gazed at you for a moment longer before leaving to help Decker.

𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀? 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓎𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝑜𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 "𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊" 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜, 𝑜𝑜𝒽 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈��𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒹𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔

You’d never showed up that night. He continued to see you while you both had been working on the case and his chest was full of heat and painful throbbing. He knew he loved you. But how could he? He was the most unworthy wasn’t he? He loved you but he didn’t want to. He was afraid of hurting you and making you hate him.

“Finally! We caught the murderer” Ella said with a sigh of relief as everyone had gathered in the lab for a mini celebration. Chloe and Dan chatted and Lucifer glanced around noticing that you weren’t there.

“Looking for Y/n?” Ella said as she shimmied up next to the handsome devil. “Ah, yes i figured she would b quite happy with this” he said as he fixed his suits button. “She already knows. She was here earlier, she gave me a hug and just said she was going home” she said with a sad smile and a shrug. Lucifer felt his blood freeze in his veins. “Are you two fighting or something?” she questioned and he nodded with his mouth slightly agape.

There is no way you would go back right?

Shortly after the celebration he rushed back home leaving smoke in his wake. His foot tapped in anxiety as he stood in the elevator waiting in bated breath to reach his home. The moment those doors opened he rushed out and tore off his blazer and clasped his hands together in prayer. He called out for you in desperation.

“Please! Damn it answer me!” he shouted as he felt his eyes prick with tears. How could he have pushed you this far? He heard the clicking of shoes against the tile and he sprung to face the elevator. And there stood Amenadiel.

“Praying to her?” He asked and Lucifer furrowed his brows and gave a curt nod.

“You know Luci I knew you were an ass but I never thought you you were this thoughtless. This insensitive and careless!” Amenadiel shouted as he approached Lucifer. “Oh shut it! What would you know Amenadiel? Your head is so far up dad’s rear-” “You rejected her Luci! You said such horrible things to her!” They now stood nose to nose with soul shattering glares.

Amenadiel could no longer hold back his rage and punched Lucifer across the cheek and after he stumbled back he charged and gripped him by his collar and pushed his back to a wall. “How could you do that to her? If you didn’t love her you couldn’t have been more gentle with her?! You had to break her heart?!” “I did it because I love her!” Lucifer shouted back as he shoved his brother away.

“You idiot...” Lucifer glared up at his elder brother when he heard the insult. “You did it because you love her?” “Yes brother because all i would do is hurt her. I don’t know how to love!” Lucifer cries out and grips his hair, tugging it roughly.

Amenadiel took several steps over to Lucifer and sighed “She left heaven to be here on earth with you. You don’t think she would teach you to love?” he shook his head at his brothers ignorance. “Either way...it’s to late now. She has returned to the silver city...” he placed something into Lucifer’s hand and took his leave.

His heart had fallen out of his chest. You left and it was his fault, all his fault. He looked down into his hand and saw several caramel colored feathers, they were yours. He couldn’t stop his tear and he ran out onto the balcony.

“Y/n! I’m sorry! Come back if only for a moment! Even if its only to scold me!” He clutched your feathers tightly as he clasped his hands together and fell to his knees. “Please darling, hear me. I love you I’m so sorry. ” he pleaded but was met with nothing but the sounds of the city.

“Even if i’m undeserving please come back...” He could do nothing but stare at your feathers and silently weep. Wishing he could be holding you to his chest.

𝒲𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝐼'𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒞𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒹𝑜 𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝑜𝑜𝒽 𝒪𝑜𝒽, 𝑜𝑜𝒽 𝒪𝑜𝒽, 𝑜𝑜𝒽

---

Hey guys! so this is my first story on here ^^; im kinda nervous about it but i tried my best and am almost tempted to do a second part.

-Jewel

#Lucifer morningstar #Lucifer imagine #Lucifer x reader #Lucifer morningstar x reader #FOX Lucifer #Lucifer fanfiction #Lucifer x angel #Imagination archive #The imagination archive #Kin of curiosity #I don't want to #Netflix lucifer #mazikeen x reader #amenadiel x reader #Chloe decker #dan espinoza #Ella rod #ella lopez

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

Text

In His Sights

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Jung Hoseok x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,8k

✂ Trigger Warning: Violence, obsessive tendencies, possessive behaviors, yandere theme.

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don't believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“And I like the way you hurt inside; always waiting for the worst to get me by. And I like the way you hurt. After all you’ve done, look what I’ve become.” - Hurt [Get Scared]

Jung Hoseok was a cheerful man.

There wasn’t any day passed when he wasn’t smiling, or screaming in pure excitement. Sure, there were moments where he acted all mischievous and the like, but most of the time he was joyful.

Almost as if he had no worries.

This trait was what attracted you to him in the first place. Not only that, but he was also optimistic. He lent you a shoulder to cry on, giving you a piece of wise advice and listened to your problems without any judgments. At the end of your ranting and cries, he always cracked a joke or pull some harmless pranks on to your other friends. Anything to make sure you didn't go to sleep sad.

He was so caring. The perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he never experienced anger. He had, though, just like any other humans in this world. But it was rare, and the probability was small either. His friends could count on with one hand the times where he was truly mad, or at least, the small signs. Because despite his expressive nature, he possessed enormous self-control. The reason had to be very painful; severe enough to actually ignite his ire.

And an angry Hoseok was an intimidating Hoseok.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to erase the gory image from your brain. But it was a pointless attempt because how could you forget something that happened right in front of your eyes? And the fact that the culprit was none other than your lover himself, Jung Hoseok, made it all the more indelible.

You had never expected your sweet, ‘sunshine’ of a man to be capable of such violent act. The man that claimed to be hope; your hope.

Little did he know that your hope had long gone down the drain the moment he took a whip from the closet.

Then again, love blinds people from any logic. Even the most affectionate ones.

You had been bounded in this chair for God knows how long. Your muscles were stiff, and the rope chafed your sensitive skin. It might be bleeding, who knows. But you knew that it was nothing compared to what your brother suffered right now.

Hoseok cracked his whip against your brother’s raw back. Another scream followed shortly; a heartrending wail that pierced through the night sky. You winced, a waterfall of tears streamed down your flushing cheeks. No matter how many times you’d heard it, you could never get used to that grievous sound. Nor could you bring yourself to stop crying when your brother was laying on his stomach – chained in the bed you shared with Hoseok – bare-chested and full of injuries.

It all happened too fast; one minute you were heading to the kitchen to prepare some food for him, and the next you woke up in your dark room with a terrible headache.

Hoseok put down the whip at last – you'd lost count on how many times he used that on to your dear sibling – and slowly turned to face you. You squirmed in your seat, trying to free yourself but to no avail. Hoseok was advancing towards you, and you had never begged him to leave you alone so loud in your life. His stride was slow and deliberate; meant to intimidate you and consume your entire being with an unadulterated fear.

And he succeeded. Of course, he did. You had never seen this side before, and now you wished you could rewind the time.

The tremor in your body was palpable, bringing forth cold sweats that poured from the pores. They trickled down to his palm that settled itself under your chin, dragging your face close to his. His minty breath – something that you used to love – felt like a freezing wind during winter. It brushed against your wet cheeks as if wanting to freeze the tears midway.

He was close. Too close. You felt almost claustrophobic with the proximity. It was like being stuck in an elevator - with your enemy - for hours. Except you didn't know how long you'd been staying here. All you knew was that it was night, and Hoseok still wearing his work clothes. A red checkered shirt with its buttons opened, revealing his dark tank top underneath, black pants, and white snickers. It was an outfit that you had chosen yourself because he could be clingy and wanted to know your preferences in male clothing.

Even though he already knew it, unbeknownst to you.

“Who do you love the most?”

Ah, there it was. The dreaded question. The first yet portentous inquiry he’d spoken after hours of intense torture and unremitting pain.

It was unfair how he could easily ask that without thinking about the dilemma that weighted your mind. You loved Hoseok – you truly did – but he had become such an overwhelming figure in your life. Always hovering over you whilst shooting a cautious look to your friends as if they would steal you away from him. You had reassured him countless times before, that you were loyal to him and would never leave him for anyone. But Hoseok still retained his wary and overprotective traits because deep inside, he feared that you would change your mind and choose somebody else instead.

Women are fickle creatures, after all. And it’s only natural for a man to protect his mate.

“I...”

What would you say? It’s not like you could choose who to love between a sibling or a lover. Both of them were kind to you, instilling warmth and love into your otherwise dull life. There was no bad blood; no family feud like those in dramas. They were supportive of your relationship with Hoseok, naively believing the mask of a doting and devoted boyfriend. And you, too, had fallen victim to it.

The cliché quote said ‘nobody’s perfect’. And yet, you were still beguiled by that so-called perfection.

But why? Why did he do this to him, to you? What could he possibly gain from this? Some kind of sick amusement? Satisfaction? Validation?

“Why...? Why are you doing this?” you sobbed, peering up through your wet lashes to look at his unusually hollow eyes. It scared you because they used to glitter with mirth. And now, it almost seemed as if you were looking to a doll. “Answer me, goddammit-!”

A hand clasped your mouth, preventing you from fully expressing your desperation and curses. You wanted to bite his palm for rudely cutting you off, but the fear of punishment forced you to stay put. Hoseok leaned forward, almost closing the suffocating space between the two of you. It could’ve been romantic had he didn’t look so cold yet empty.

“You want to know why?”

His voice was eerily calm despite the mocking tone. It terrified you; to see him act so cool because you couldn’t predict when and how he would lose his temper. You used to have this naïve thought that he might be one of those ‘violent and rampaging’ type, and while the former could be proved as accurate, the latter was clearly debatable.

With his hand still attached to your mouth, you merely nodded in response.

“It’s because you want to leave me.”

Your eyes widened, both from shock and rage. How dare he accused you of something you hadn’t done. Hoseok might not be what you had thought about, but you never planned on leaving him. Unless-

“You think I’m accusing you.” It was scary how he knew you so well until he could correctly predict what you were thinking about. You supposed that you should be flattered with the fact that he had taken the time to understand you – your flaws and all – but this just proved to you of how deep his love was.

How long he had been watching you without your knowledge.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He narrowed his eyes, and you suddenly felt very small. Like a frightened deer in front of a fierce yet calculating cheetah because he could – and would – chase you to the end of the earth if necessary. “You have been meeting with your brother under the excuse of meeting your old friend. Oh, what was their name again? Seojoon?”

You gulped silently.

“There has never been a friend named Seojoon in your life, but I applaud you for your intricate lie in coming up with their background. Very believable, indeed. I almost fell for it.” He huffed out a derisive chuckle. “But you see, you can only keep up a lie for so long until it comes back to bite at you. And you have been found guilty.”

He continued, “I’m not stupid enough to let you go outside without my supervision, [Name]. Especially when you met the one person that should be the most supportive of us.”

Of course. Of course. How could you think that for one fucking second, you were free? That you could finally do anything and meet anyone you want? No, because the moment you accepted his confession, was when you gave him the reign to own you. To possess you as if you were some kind of a doll. A puppet to be controlled.

How fucking stupid could you be, [Name]?!

“But, no. Instead, he backstabbed me – us – by spouting out nonsense about how I’m not good enough for you and that I’m too possessive. Bullshit!” You flinched when he suddenly slammed his other hand against the table. “Your brother’s a fucking hypocrite, [Name]! How can you be so blind?! He’s trying to ruin our relationship!”

Hoseok finally released his palm before he could risk suffocating you any further and paced around the room in frustration. “And I can’t let that happen. No, no, no. I won’t.” He dashed towards you with surprising speed and grabbed your face. “You belong to me, remember? Forever and ever. We’re gonna marry someday and then we move out to another country or something. Far away from here, because this place’s not safe anymore.”

A manic smile slowly contorted his face when he noticed your trembling body. “Aw, why are you shaking? Are you scared?” he cooed, and you didn’t know whether he was taunting you or not. All you cared about was how you could burn this memory forever. “Don't worry, I’ll never hurt my darling. These are just the proofs of my love. ‘Cause we can’t have anyone to destroy something that we’ve built for so long, can we?”

Another tear slipped from your eyelids at the implication. Hoseok wiped them away with a stroke and smiled softly. You sobbed harder, chest constricted at the bitter nostalgia. The sight in front of you reminded you so much of his usual behavior.

The times where you were blissfully oblivious to his violent side. The times where he took you out on a spontaneous date and whisper some cheesy things reserved for your ears only. The times where he wasn't so crazy with you. Maybe he had, though. You just didn't know it. Yet. But you did now.

Where did all those beautiful memories go?

“I love you, [Name].”

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romancingromanoff · 5 years

Text

What Happens At Disney Part 3/3

I know that all of the details aren’t completely accurate to the parks but please enjoy the final installment

Part 1 here//Part 2 here

The Disney workers were so glad that Tony and Bruce fixed the ride that they gave you all free fast passes and you got to skip the line. “You are all welcome. You’re welcome!” Tony was waving and loudly calling out to the crowds. You rolled your eyes at how he always felt the need to fuel his ego but decided against giving him another one of your talks since he had indeed fixed the ride.

The Seven Dwarfs Mine Train was a two person seater ride so naturally you pulled Nat up to the very front to sit next to you. Steve and Clint sat behind you followed by Bruce and Thor, who was very adamant about not letting the workers touch him when they went to pull down the safety bars. Tony got pushed to the back because, truthfully, no one wanted to sit next to him because he wouldn’t shut up about the fact that he had repaired the ride and everyone apparently “owed him,” but he just took it as an opportunity to fill up the entire car by himself. As you were all getting on they called to see if there were any single riders that could sit next to Tony, to which he protested saying that he could sue anyone that accidentally touched his suit, but changed his mind when the first single rider that raised their hand to volunteer turned out to be a very tall, slim, and tan blonde woman wearing super tight booty shorts and a thread of fabric around her chest that you guessed was supposed to be her shirt. “I’ll allow it,” he stated and the bubbly blonde giggled as she sat down and Tony put his arm around her shoulder.

It was a kid’s ride so there weren’t exactly drops big enough to make those butterflies in your stomach fly around at that zero-gravity-like feeling, but you still smiled and laughed as the carts twisted and turned up and down the little hills. Soon you rode into a cave filled with glowing gems and those weird animatronic animals that probably hadn’t been updated since Steve’s time. You all began to slow down as the various forest animals and dwarfs came to life with the music. The creepy glowing eyes of the deer weren’t easy to look over though. Nat made a sour face seeing how robotic they all moved, but you were having an absolute blast.

CLINK! A high pitched ring sounded throughout the cave, echoing off of the walls. It made the poor blonde girl that got put next to Tony almost jump out of her seat. If it weren’t for the safety bars she probably would’ve gone off the side.

“WHAT THE HELL, THOR?!” you screamed at him when you turned around and saw him smashing his hammer into the fake gems and diamonds that were encrusted into the walls.

“You said this was a mine! I’m just trying to get points any way that I can!” he retorted while Bruce had his hands in his head from the headache all of the noise was giving him.

“No, this isn’t that kind of ride, Thor. It is not interactive,” he looked disappointed as you explained it to him and he was silent for the rest of the ride, which was pretty uneventful (meaning that no more property was damaged) except for Clint teasing Steve with questions about what it was like to watch the movie when it first premiered.

After the ride you thought that it would be fun to go visit attractions that the rest of your friends would be interested in. For Clint you headed over to the Toy Story Midway Mania interactive ride where you got spun around a giant toy room and got to shoot various targets and plates. You knew that you were no match for his marksmanship skills, but had fun with the target practice anyway. It wasn’t hard to enjoy yourself when Clint was so into it. He was screaming at Woody, Buzz, and Jessie as they were trying to explain how to work the shooters. “Let us shoot already, damnit!” he yelled in frustration before going on to break all of the high scores.

Steve’s request for a ride was very simple and sweet, much like the person he was. The only thing he really wanted to do at Disney was go on the carousel so you headed back to the Magic Kingdom. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the other rides, but back in his time the only rollercoasters he got to ride were at Coney Island and were all made out of wood. He just didn’t really understand the concept of interactive rides or super scary thrill ones either. At the carousel you were glad to wind down the pace a little bit and go old school as you all got on your own horses and the ride stirred on with the classic amusement park music.

You had also snuck a bag of popcorn on with you and were going back and forth between throwing pieces up in the air at Thor, Steve, and Clint who tried to catch them in their mouths. It was a little difficult since you were all constantly moving up and down and at different levels, but in the end Clint ended up catching the most.

“Well gentlemen, it has been a pleasure,” he said upon the conclusion of the ride.

“Barton, you are lucky that most of the pieces simply ended up caught in my hair rather than my mouth,” Thor commented as he was picking those same pieces off from his head. “But on any other occasion, I would have bested you.”

“Sure, buddy,” Clint laughed.

You and Nat gave each other a meaningful look and you both laughed at how annoying the boys were being. “You know, I could make this thing go ten times faster if you just give me five minutes with it,” Tony pestered one of the workers trying to get him to let him touch the controls.

“Tony, please, not again,” Bruce moaned and pulled at his sleeve trying to get him away from the obviously intimidated cast members.

“C’mon! I could make it go in reverse too! At least let me change the lights and the music. It could be disco themed! Bruce, I know you love disco.”

“No disco, Tony.”

“YOU CAN’T KILL DISCO!”

“You already tricked out one ride which is enough for today, Handy Manny,” you kill his hopes of messing with anything else right then and there.

“IN THE NAME OF DISCO-”

“TONY, SHE SAID NO!”

“Hey, settle down,” Steve hushed the two squabbling scientist. “There’s a show going on.” In front of the carousel entrance where a fairly large but somewhat unnoticeable rock laid with what appeared to be the handle of a sword sticking out of it, a cast member in purple robes and a giant gray beard was twirling around and gathering all of the little children around him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, which one of you thinks that they are worthy enough to pull this sword out of its stone?” A little boy around the age of 6 wearing a Toy Story cap that looked like Rex the green dinosaur was just about to wrap his hands around the handle when he was suddenly pushed out of the way.

“I am worthy! I AM WORTHY!” Thor yelled which made a couple of babies in strollers automatically start crying. “Hah. Mortals watch and see how a god wields his weapon!”

“Dear Lord, not again,” Nat groaned.

“Hmmmmpffffff!” Thor began pulling but to no avail. “NO, I AM WORTHY,” he told himself and then tried shifting the sword back and forth to shimmy out.

“NO DON’T DO-” the wizard flinched.

“ARGHHH!” SLICE! You threw your head back seeing him break the sword in two right at the handle which almost made the poor wizard guy faint. Thor just stood their awkwardly with the tiny blunt little sword in his hand. “It’s fine I can just-” he tried jamming it back into the rock but was way too forceful so he ended up putting an even larger dent in what was left of it.

“Does anyone have some glue?” Tony casually yelled around while Bruce was trying to hide behind a dip n dots cart mumbling “I don’t know them,” and pretending to be completely oblivious to all of the scared screaming children that had just seen a part of their imagination torn apart.

“I can’t say that I’m not surprised,” Natasha mumbled with her head slightly cocked to one side as she studied the scene. “It could be a really good piece of modern art I guess.”

“Oh no,” Steve flinched in pain at those words. “Please, not again with the modern art,” he cringed just thinking about those strange, abstract sculptures of plain shapes or made of weird materials that people called art these days.

“Well, I need a beer,” Tony piped up trying to think of a solution to cure everyone’s sudden depression.

“Is there a tavern around here?” Thor questioned.

“Yeah, actually, there is a tavern,” you were surprised to remember that there did happen to be a place for them to drink around here. “I think you’ll like it, Thor. It’s very, er… manly.” You smiled only half-sarcastically as you thought back to the Disney villain that owned the place. He had been one of your favorites as a kid despite his tendency to boast about his buffness (which is why you believed you were able to tolerate Tony and Thor) and awfully misogynistic world view. But, that’s Disney for you.

Gaston’s Tavern was a very rustic looking place that sort of tried to be half hunting lodge and half shrine to its namesake Frenchman. Upon approaching an entrance, there was a Gaston actor leaned up against one of the windows and hitting on basically every mom that went in or out. God, it made you sick. It was like he was Tony but without any smarts whatsoever.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Bruce wondered at the sight of him flexing his completely-not-fake-and-made-of-padding biceps.

“Welcome, everyone! Don’t worry, you will all have the chance to meet me, Gaston: the strongest, most handsome, and brave man in all of town. You may applaud,” the airhead was motioning for people to clap and a couple of other employees (not dressed up) responded with some cheers as if to play along.

“You sure that’s not Tony?” Steve whispered to you under his breath which made you smile. You gave him a look and winked at him as if to say, “that was exactly what I was thinking” and rolled your eyes.

“So you claim to be the strongest man around here?” Thor stepped forward a little bit too menacingly with the seriousness of his voice which caused a couple of people around him to gasp just laying their eyes on the perfectly sculpted body of a god. Before it could go anymore out of hand you ran up to him and tried to get his attention.

“Nope, nuh uh, Thor, this is just a guy playing a character; he’s supposed to say those things but he doesn’t really mean them. C’mon, you will break this guy’s arm worse than that fake sword and everyone knows that, so it’s okay because you don’t have to prove anything.” The nervousness in your quivering voice could not have been worse as you saw Thor trying to measure up this poor dude with the fake biceps and wig.

“Character? Pffff,” Gaston played aloof to the danger in the form of a giant Scandinavian looking lumber jack that was right in front of him. “Gaston is the strongest man in town and he isn’t afraid to prove it.”

“Buddy, I’m trying to save your life,” you spit at him.

“How about an old fashioned arm wrestling match?” Natasha suggests and you lightly slap her for encouraging this awful testosterone measuring contest. Thor and Gaston, however, are immediately down for it though you can see the rules of arm-wrestling being a lot different on Asgard which may actually result in this guy’s arm being completely ripped off.

“HOWWWWWW about we let someone else go first, huh?” your voice cracks which makes Natasha smirk. “Weakest goes up against him first, you know? And then Thor is the championship match?”

“Hold on, are you saying that you think Thor is the strongest?” Tony rips of his sunglasses to look you straight in the eyes.

“This isn’t a contest guys; obviously I’m the strongest!” Bruce plays innocent and coy with his shoulders shrugged but you don’t take his hulking out joke too lightly.

“Not when you’re this color you’re not. You’re first,” you shove up towards Gaston who’s had a wooden table pulled out to the front of the tavern just for the occasion. Then Bruce gets a little sweaty realizing that he actually has to put on his best performance and goes to sit across from the smirking playboy villain who’s already got his right elbow up on the table. You can see all of the fake padding under his costume’s sleeve from where you are, but you still aren’t sure how much muscle this guy actually has on his own. He’s fairly broad and definitely looks like he’s the type to have always idolized body builders, yet you still aren’t sure if that means he has a definite win over Bruce.

“Alright gentlemen I want a fair match,” says Nat. “Elbows on the table at all times, and 3, 2, 1-”

It was a pretty evenly matched fight as both men’s fists seemed to keep a nice right angle for the first few moments and none of them had a visible advantage over the other. You could see Bruce’s veins in the side of his face which always made an appearance when he tried to Hulk out, but Gaston also had some pretty good form and was gritting his teeth together as they both tried to exert more and more force against the other. The it seemed like it was bobbling more towards Bruce’s direction and his focus completely shifted to Gaston himself who he showed his teeth like a primate and growled at with a deep Hulk-like rumble in the back of his throat. That must’ve been enough to intimidate the guy because he stumbled with his grip for a second and Bruce took the opportunity to ram his hand into the table and take the win.

“YES! YES! I AM VICTORIOUS!” he screamed going in for a chest bump with Thor who had been chanting Banner’s name the whole time. “What do you think about that, GASTON?!” he and Thor were backing him up into a corner which did not seem like a good idea.

“Gentlemen, please, if we could all just- okay, security!” his voice suddenly switched to that of a your typical New Jersey accent but in a slightly higher pitch as he called for help and all seven of you looked at one another before pushing your way through the crowds to get as far away as possible.

“You know running is just going to bring even more attention to us,” Natasha quipped but you didn’t care about being stealthy at the moment.

“Just go!” you pushed her forward. The last thing you wanted was to be banned from all Disney parks after your first time setting foot in one. Panicking with no ideas on how to cover your tracks, you desperately snapped your fingers together and all of a sudden a grey storm cloud appeared just above Gaston’s Tavern and poured down gallons of water over the immediate area of the crime scene, soaking all the workers and making them slip as you ran off rain-free.

Unfortunately, a little girl about 7 or 8 wearing the same Minnie Mouse ears as you had watched your little trick which left her mouth frozen wide open before she could have taken a bite of her dole whip. You laughed nervously and one shoulder came up to your ear as you played dumb, hoping that she wouldn’t remember any of what she just saw or would ever be taken seriously enough for adults to believe her. “Heh, uh, unpredictable Florida weather, right?” you offered but her expression remained the same.

“I’m sorry, but is she the child or are you?” Natasha grabbed your wrist and pulled you along behind her while she tried to forget that she just saw you trying to reason about your spontaneous weather-changing powers with a kid that probably still wet the bed. “Very smooth, y/l/n.”

“Don’t think I don’t have a cloud specially made for you, Romanoff,” she releases a huff and takes a double take when you stick out your tongue at her but then resumes pulling you along with an even tighter grip.

“Yup, my girlfriend is a complete child,” she mutters to herself.

“SO,” you put on a big wide smile as you turn to Tony and pretend like you didn’t hear her. “Tony, do you have anything you’d like to do that doesn’t involve tampering with Disney property?”

“Actually, yes, there is one guy I’d like to meet. Or, rather, have Banner meet.”

At first you were certain Tony planned to throw Bruce into the It’s A Small World Ride or try setting him up with one of the princesses, but his actual plan was surprisingly pleasant.

“FINALLY! Someone who gets it!” Bruce was over relieved and had threw up his hands.

“Well, yeah, it’s not easy being green, you know?” Kermit the Frog was out sitting on a bench just casually giving out life advice when Tony had ambushed the poor muppet talking all about how Bruce and him had a little green problem in common.

“No, no it isn’t. Thank you so much for saying that!”

“What are you doing?” Natasha leaned in to Tony who had pulled out his phone.

“Oh, I’m recording this for instagram.”

“I mean, first off it just blends into so many things. People always think I’m some sort of walking bush.”

“Wow, people always think I’m a giant tree!”

“What the heck is Tony doing?” you ask as Nat wraps her arm around your waist.

“He’s filming it for instagram,” you laugh before tugging at her shirt to seriously look her in the eyes. “Hey, it’s almost time for the fireworks show. You wanna go somewhere we can be alone?”

“After you,” she offers up her arm which you gladly take while you walk next to her with your head on her shoulder. Moments like these where you could act like a normal couple were what had you hanging onto life for so many years throughout all of the struggles. You had looked forward to, no, dreamed about having someone that loved you for years. And while your relationship with Natasha wasn’t normal as neither of you were normal people, you cherished sharing these simple moments with her.

Bribing the ride operator to stop the ferris wheel when you and Nat reached the very top was so unlike you, but definitely a great decision.

“Isn’t this a little bit unethical?” Natasha criticized your usual goody-two-shoes self. Pink, blue, and white fireworks began shooting off in the distant sky lighting up the cloudless view you had of the horizon and the stars coming into view.

“So are the things I want to do you,” you try to keep a serious face but can’t help but laugh at the raised eyebrow she gives you. Her magnetic pull brings you in closer and soon the fireworks going off are just background noise.

“I adore you,” she whispers just before your lips touch and the real fireworks start to go off, ending the perfect day at the most magical place on earth.

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

Text

Chapter Thirty-Three:

The One With The Diabolical Detective Dupin

Violet and Klaus both felt as though the Elders had just kicked the air right out of them. They looked at one another, each wiping the happy tears from their eyes.

“What did you say?” Violet asked, her voice was faint from her lack of breath.

“We said ‘Olaf’s been captured’,” The elder said again as the three Elders rolled their eyes towards the children.

Klaus’ body felt numb. “W-wh-what did you say?” His voice was as soft and weak as Violet’s

“Pay attention orphans! We said ‘Count Olaf has been captured’,” the male Elder barked. The three Elders walked towards the town hall leaving the two half-siblings breathless, confused, and strangely full of hope.

Klaus looked to his older sister. He was shaking but for once it wasn’t in fear. It was in delight, happiness, and pure excitement. He could barely stand. “My nightmare is over…” he squealed. “I can sleep peacefully. He’s captured. He’s done for!”

Violet smiled as Klaus began to jump for joy. Hector peaked his head into the saloon. “Come quickly, children,” he said smiling at both children. “I just heard the news.”

Violet grabbed Klaus’ arm and the two siblings followed Hector towards town hall. “Can you believe it?” he asked as they walked. “Count Olaf, the notorious villain I first head of yesterday, capture at last in that very saloon!”

“Do you think it could be true? “ Violet asked a bit skeptical but doing her best to keep her optimism.

Klaus’ eyes were glazed over with a brightness that Violet had only scene briefly back when she witnessed her little brother awkwardly flirting with Duncan Quagmire or when he had scooped his baby sister in his arms to tickle her when she teased him before Olaf showed up at Prufrock. Or when he info dumped for his entertainment and not because his life depended on it and even then Violet could tell the prospect of Olaf being captured was the thing Klaus desired the most. The one thing he desperately needed the most. “I hope so!” Klaus replied in a happy tone.

Violet frowned when she realized that Klaus had fallen victim to jumping to conclusions. Which is just an expression, rather than an activity. Although in the case of Klaus Baudelaire in this instant in his life, both would be accurate. Unfortunately for Klaus, jumping to conclusions was as dangerous as jumping off a cliff, jumping in front of a moving train, and jumping for joy. Clearly, the solution to anything involving jumping is to not jump at all. This was what Violet Snicket was trying her hardest to do. But as Violet and Hector walked normally to town hall and Klaus acted as though he was a four-year-old in a candy store with an outrageous amount of money and no restrictions, Violet couldn’t help but catch a bit of her brother’s surprising, rare, and uncharacteristic optimism. I will admit, it is hard not to jump at all when you are jumping to conclusions, and it is impossible to make sure that you are juping to a safe place because all ‘jumping to conclusions’ means is that you are believing something is true even though you don’t actually know whether it is or not. When Violet and Klaus heard that Count Olaf had been captured, Klaus found himself to excited and relieved to rely on his history with Olaf and logic.

“The Council of Elders called a special meeting, which always makes me jumpy,” Hector explained as he took a seat as far in the back as he could. Violet and Klaus made their way closer to the front. Sitting in the seats perpendicular to the main crowd of townspeople.

“Settle down, everyone,” One Elder yelled, smacking their gavel down.

“We’ll answer all your questions,”

Klaus’ hand shot up so fast. “ Can it be true?’ He asked his voice entirely happy but Violet could hear the desperation in his voice. “ Is my long nightmare of dealing with Count Olaf over?”

“It’s true,” The Elder explained. “A man arrived in town sometime yesterday, with one eyebrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle,”

“It must be Olaf,” Klaus replied, jumping to conclusions.

Violet frowned. She hoped it was Olaf but...she knew his tattoo wasn’t unique. She also knew that it was not a tattoo of an eye but the initials of the piece of shit organization that has haunted the Snickets for too long.

“Yes. Olaf was hiding in the village in a disguise. Fortunately, a handsome stranger who claimed to be an investigative agent arrived yesterday and captured him. We’ve got him handcuffed outside.”

“Olaf. Not the handsome stranger,” one Elder explained.

“He certainly is a tall drink of water,” another Elder commented.

“The handsome stranger, not Olaf.” the first Elder specified.

“His female associate is quite capable, too,” the third Elder noted.

“Did he give up the location of my sister and friends?” Klaus asked desperately.

“Our…” Violet muttered, glancing at the ground.

“Not yet,” an Elder replied.

Klaus shifted in his seat. “Will you tell the detective that I’m grateful?”

“You can tell him yourself,” the third Elder replied. “He’s right back there,” the old man pointed a finger to the back doors.

Violet and Klaus turned their attention to the back doors of Town Hall. Klaus ready to thank the detective who caught Olaf. Violet just wanting to see who finished the job that her father hadn’t. But as the door was kicked open, Klaus and Violet did not only feel the color in their skin fade away. They felt their eyes dull over losing any bit of brightness that it may have gained when they first heard the news. They felt their hearts crash and shatter deep inside themselves. Their stomachs flipped and their heads twirled. Their lungs lost all oxygen that had been stored. Both children felt the heavy, crushing devastation that sent their faces falling. It was as if their world had shattered once again. Any ounce of temporary happiness had faded from both children so quickly. They felt nauseous and distraught. The two children felt lifeless as their bodies paralyzed over instantly. Either because of their anger, like in Violet's case or in Klaus' case, fear.

“Greetings, all you cool cats!” called the voice of the man who kicked the doors open. This man needed a dramatic entrance because the Snicket brothers described him accurately. He was a drama queen. A drama queen whose voice, I’m sorry to say, that the two orphans recognized in an instant. It was the voice that Violet despised the most and the voice that haunted Klaus even in his less terrifying dreams. The voice was wheezy and scratchy, and it had a sinister smile behind it as if the person talking were telling a joke. But it was not a voice that made the children want to laugh at the punchline. It was one that made them want to either retreat and cry. It was one that made them want to attack and kill. It was a voice that the children recognized from all of the places they had been since the death of their parents. It was the voice of Count Olaf.

The children gazed silently as they turned to see Olaf wearing another one of his absurd disguises. He flashed a smirk at the children. Even behind his enormous sunglasses, they could feel his shiny eyes staring at them. He was also wearing a purple blazer that was so vividly colored that it made the children squint a bit, and a pair of blue pants jeans equipped with, what the kids assumed to be, a plastic police badge that proudly hung at the front of his pants near the belt buckle. Under his purple jacket, the man had a dirty yellow shirt on with half of the buttons unbuttoned showing off his disgusting chest, which added an extra layer of unpleasant to the children. He wore a shiny medallion around his neck that glinted like a mirror in certain lighting. To complete his look, he wore a brown fedora-like hat that helped his enormous sunglasses hide his unibrow. On his feet were a pair of bright green plastic shoes with yellow plastic lightning bolts sticking out of them covering his ankle and hiding his tattoo.

The man walked closer to where the two children were sitting. Violet grabbed Klaus’ arm as Olaf approached. She glared at him as she could feel Klaus shaking under her grip. “I am the famous and,” he cut himself off to scat a bit. “cool...Detective Dupin.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “More like Detective Dumbass,” she muttered to Klaus hoping that she can keep him from having a full-blown panic attack. She was getting over her paralyzation quicker than Klaus was. Klaus stared at the man in silence. No expression written on his face.

“I was on the scene if you know what I mean, and I saw Count Olaf, and nothing rhymes,” Olaf scat in his disguised voice trying to sound as ’80s as possible. “And I grabbed this guy, and made him fly into jail and also,” he scat. Violet could tell he was trying his best to continue this charade but he wasn’t as knowledgeable with words as her father or brother were.”A rhyme is a hard thing to do,” he said snapping his finger. Moving around the crowd, stopping short of the two orphans. Violet gripped Klaus’ arm harder as Olaf turned from the orphans to the crowd. To Violet’s dismay, the town of VFD began to clap and applaud Olaf’s Detective Dupin charade.

“You can’t be serious,” she cried.

“Yeah! All right!” Dupin cheered. Taking a few bows.

“I found that utterly convincing,” one Elder commented as he clapped for Olaf.

Klaus felt a bolt of lightning shock through his inner being. He jumped up from his seat so fast that he yanked Violet’s arm with him causing her to yelp and let go. “ That’s Count Olaf!” he shouted, pointing and glaring at the disguised man.

Olaf sighed, quickly rolled his eyes, which the crowd couldn’t see behind his sunglasses. He slowly turned around to face Klaus. He shot Klaus a wicked smirk laced with cruel intentions. “I think your prescription is fuzzy, my little four-eyed kitten,” Dupin replied. His voice carrying a secret layer of venom as his eyes focused on Klaus.

Klaus was struck paralyzed again as he quickly sat back down in his seat.

“You orphans are confused!” The first Elder yelled.

“That is the man who caught Count Olaf,” the second Elder explained.

“The man you wanted to thank,’ the third Elder reminded.

Olaf’s smirk turned wider as he stepped closer to Violet and Klaus. He walked up to their seats, Klaus leaning as far back in his seat as he could. Violet put her arm in front of Klaus’ chest, her only way to protect him in this position. “ Anything for you two,” the man hissed.

Violet’s glared intensified as she shook in her seat in pure anger. “ You’re Olaf,” she hissed.

He smirked at Violet, leaning as close as he could to make sure only she and Klaus could hear him. “No, silly little...pretty orphan,” he hissed. He glanced around making sure the townspeople sitting around the two orphans could not hear him. He waited a second, no one seemed to pay him any attention. “I am Detective Dupin. Officer Luciana has Count Olaf right outside.” He pointed to the door that he had just entered from.

“That’s not possible seeing that I am looking right at Olaf,” Violet hissed back.

“Pay attention, Violet dear, you are going to love this part,” he hissed back grinning as he stood back up to face the crowd.

The Elders slammed down their gavels on their podium. “Officer Luciana! Bring in the prisoner!” one yelled.

Detective Dupin began to applaud wildly. Violet and Klaus glanced towards the doors both confused as to why Violet was going to ‘love’ this part. “Yeah, yeah, baby! Let’s get this hootenanny a-hootin’!”

Violet’s heart sank in her chest as she watched the disguised Esme push the man from the Auction into the Town Hall. The same man from her father’s picture. The man looked a strange mixture of stone-cold and frightened. He was dressed in a discolored shirt that anyone could see used to be white but it hadn’t been washed in a while. Around his wrists was a pair of handcuffs. Both children could see that this man’s hair was made to look like Olaf. But no matter what Esme and Olaf did to try to make this man appear to be Count Olaf, it failed to fool the two orphans. He wasn’t quite as thin as Olaf, he wasn’t as tall as Olaf, he didn’t have dirt under his fingernails like Olaf and most of all, he didn’t have the signature nasty, greedy, and evil look that Detective Dupin was wearing now as he watched Violet’s reaction. “No,” she whimpered. Klaus turned to her confused. Violet, like Klaus, did not know this man personally. But as she looked at him, she could see similarities between him and her father. She could tell immediately that he was a Snicket.

“Move it, prisoner!” Officer Luciana yelled as she pushed Jacques. Jacques growled as Esme gave him a hard shove.

“I prefer to go by ‘volunteer’,” he replied bitterly.

Esme smiled. “And I prefer to go by Donatella Violetta Cappuccino Milano. But you can call me Officer Luciana.” She and Jacques reached the platform where Olaf stood. She grabbed Jacques by his shoulders and turned him around to face the crowd.

Violet stood up desperately. “ That is not Count Olaf!”

“No talking on the platform,” the Elders yelled at her.

“I’m not on the fucking platform!” she yelled back.

Jacques stared at her in shock. His stone-cold demeanor melting as he could see his brother in her eyes.

“Hector, control the orphans!” one Elder yelled.

Hector turned to Violet and Klaus, opened his mouth to speak and then proceeded to faint.

“As a citizen of this village, we should be able to speak!” Violet protested as Klaus stood up alongside her.

“That man is not Count Olaf!” Klaus yelled pointing at Jacques.

“That dumb fucker is!” Violet yelled pointing at Detective Dupin.

Both Dupin and Luciana glanced towards Violet utterly confused.

“Why should we believe you two children over our chief of police?” an Elder asked.

“Because none of you have met Count Olaf!” Klaus argued.

“That’s true,” Mrs. Morrow admitted. “I’ve never met Count Olaf,”

“Well, I’ve read about him in the newspaper...does that count?” Mr. Lesko asked.

Jacques took this time to lean in close to the two half-siblings. “Violet...it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said offering her a kind smile. “I will say I had hoped we would’ve met in...better...circumstances.” Violet glanced at him worriedly. “Don’t worry. I’ve been in worse scrapes than this,” he whispered. Jacques glanced at Klaus. “Ah, this must be Klaus Baudelaire. You look so much like your parents. Normally, I’d shake your hand and ask ‘How do you do?’ but as you can see,” Jacques offered Klaus a smile as he lifted his wrists. “It’d be a bit tricky.”

“Silence!” An Elder yelled, slamming their gavel down. Jacques rolled his eyes. “These children do have a point. None of us have ever met Olaf.”

Klaus stood up. “But my sister and I have!” he cried. “We’ve had the displeasure of dealing with him on countless occasions.”

“Maybe you have,” Dupin replied bitterly. “But the girl not so much,”

Klaus looked around to see if anyone found that reply a bit odd. The only person who seemed to be responding to Olaf’s idiotic rebuttal was Esme who turned to him incredulously. “You see, Count Olaf has one big eyebrow,”

Officer Luciana smirked towards Klaus. “As you can see, this man also has one eyebrow.” She pointed to Jacques.

“You can clearly tell that that’s been glued on!” he argued.

“Why would Count Olaf glue an eyebrow to his forehead?” she asked feigning confusion.

“ He didn’t! You did!” Klaus yelled.

Violet, on the other hand, was at a loss for words. She just stared at her uncle. Tryin her best not to cry. He looked so much like her father, it was unreal to her. She had never met anyone from her family before so seeing him face to face rather than in some photograph was so surreal for her. Jacques noticed tears forming in her eyes. “Hey, hey. None of that,” he whispered to her. “I’m going to get out of this...okay…”

She looked up at him. Doubt filled her eyes as she slowly nodded. “But if you don’t…”

He offered her a friendly smile. “Don’t think like that...your father had a nasty habit of always thinking so negatively.”

All she could do was nod her head again.

“Fine,” Klaus sighed. “Forget the fucking unibrow. Count Olaf has a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle.”

Klaus smirked thinking he had played his trump card. He was so sure that Jacques wouldn’t have a tattoo on his left ankle. Violet’s eyes widened when she realized that Jacques’ face turned sour. “No,” she whimpered. “Please...tell me you don’t have a tattoo…” she begged Jacques. He glanced down at the ground. “They branded you,” she whispered so low that only Jacques could hear her. “That tattoo is going to seal your doom,” she warned as she glanced up towards Olaf and Esme who were both proudly smirking.

“This man,” Klaus said pointing at Jacques. “Won’t have that heinous tattoo. Watch. And when he doesn’t...I think we should have Detective Dumbass over here take off his left shoe and display his ankle.”

Olaf didn’t glare at Klaus like he had all those other times Klaus or Sunny had nearly ruined his disguise. This worried Klaus. What worried the young orphan boy, even more, was the face that Olaf was making. He was once again smirking at Klaus. He turned to face Jacques who wasn’t glaring at the young boy but glaring towards the two villains. But Klaus didn’t understand why. Surely this man won’t have the tattoo.

Esme walked up to Jacques. “Sir, in the name of the law, would you expose your left ankle to the crowd.”

Jacques glared daggers at Esme. “And if I refuse?” he asked under his breath.

“Now...that’s just an admission of guilt all on its own,” Esme replied back.

Jacques sighed as he gripped onto his left pant leg, pulling his pant leg up. Klaus’ eyes widened as Violet’s heart sank further when they both glanced down at Jacques’ tattooed ankle. The crowd gasped. The Elders gasped. Even Esme gasped for dramatic effect. “But...but...but…” Klaus stuttered. His mind reeling. He felt woozy. “He...he...he’s not...he…” Klaus' eyes rolled back. He felt like he was about to faint. He pointed a finger at Jacques. “That’s...that’s not the man...that’s not my sister’s kidnapper….” he cried. His voice weak. The only two people who seemed worried about Klaus were Violet and Jacques. Detective Dupin walked closer to the boy putting a hand on his shoulder. Klaus flinched from the man’s touch causing Jacques to step in between Olaf and Klaus.

“Thank you for helping Officer Luciana and I identify our prisoner,” Dupin replied. “Maybe you could be a detective when you grow up,” he joked.

Esme walked closer to the three. “ If he grows up,” she whispered. Jacques glared at the two villains.

“Back off the kid,” he whispered harshly.

Esme surprisingly did just that. She turned to the crowd. “As you can see, thanks to the orphan boy’s help. This man has the single eyebrow and the tattoo of an ‘eye’ on his left ankle. Therefore this man is inarguably Count Olaf,”

Olaf took this as his cue to address the crowd as well. “Now that count Olaf is verifiability verified, let’s starting groovin’ on how we’re gonna punish this bad cat. Who’s got suggestions?” he asked the crowd.

The crowd all began to talk over each other. Klaus began to shake so badly. Jacques looked at him confused. “Hey, you okay?” he whispered as Klaus grabbed his shoulder for support. He didn’t answer the man, he merely shook his head. “Come on, sit down next to your sister,” he instructed as he helped Klaus back to his seat the best he could while being handcuffed. Once Klaus sat down, Jacques looked back to Violet. “I am so glad that you found your siblings. Jacquelyn did a great job making sure that happened.”

“Who are you?” Klaus asked still shaking.

“My name is Jacques Snicket,” Jacques replied. “My associate and I tracked the Quagmires and Sunny here...just like you did. We were trying our best to rescue them. As you can see, we’ve suffered some setbacks.”

“I’ll say,” Violet muttered. “What have they done to you? What are they going to do to you?”

Jacques shrugged his shoulders. “I told you...I will get out of this. Don’t you worry your little head. It’s very hard to kill a Snicket.”

Violet frowned at this. She shook her head. “Not really. All you need is a little fire,” she muttered.

Jacques felt his heart sink into his chest. He sighed. He contemplated telling Violet his theory about Lemony. He didn’t want to believe that his baby brother was dead. He truly didn’t. But he didn’t want to give his niece any false hope in the slight chance that all of his theories were dead wrong. He also didn’t want her to think that her father would have abandoned her. Outside of himself, who she’s just met today and her siblings, whom she barely knew. Lemony was the only true family that she knew. He couldn’t torture her like that. So he kept his mouth shut. Not wanting to add any additional unnecessary pain to his niece.

Klaus looked desperately at the man. “Did...did you see Sunny or the Quagmires? Are they all alive...are they well? Where are they?”

Jacques frowned. “I didn’t see them,” he lied. He didn’t want to inform Klaus that he had seen Duncan, Isadora, and Sunny fall unconsciously out of the red herring statue. He didn’t want to inform Klaus that Sunny had a muzzle around her toddler mouth and he didn’t want to admit that when he saw them that he didn’t act in the moment. Because he realized now, that maybe...just maybe he should’ve. He watched Klaus’ desperation take over as tears were forming in his eyes. “But...I’m willing to bet my life that they’re all still alive. Maybe not well...but alive.”

“Detective Dupin, VFD already has a strict system of punishment in place. In accordance with rule number two, which deals with rule-breakers, Count Olaf is to be marched into the center of town and issued a stiff but reasonable fine.” an Elder explained loudly.

Klaus looked to the Elder incredulously. If Count Olaf were actually the one who had been caught he would be arguing relentlessly that Olaf deserved much, much more than a fucking fine. He glared at the vicious man who was giving the Elders the same exact look. Klaus knew his thoughts were vicious, he knew they were immoral. But he couldn’t make himself care at this point. He believed Olaf didn’t deserve jail time. He deserved death. Violet sighed in relief, she too would have argued for a much stricter punishment for the real Olaf but seeing that this was her uncle, she was perfectly fine with a stupid fine. But Olaf and Esme didn’t seem too satisfied.

“That’s all you birds got?” Dupin asked incredulously.

Jacques smirked as he glanced back at his niece and her brother. “How did he capture you?” Violet asked.

“How did you know me? ” Klaus asked realizing that he didn’t get the chance to introduce himself to Jacques. Jacques already knew who he was before he knew who Jacques was.

Jacques smiled at Klaus. “To answer, you Klaus, your family and mine have always been...close.” Jacques looked pointedly at Violet as he answered. “I can see Beatrice and Bertrand in you from a mile away…” he turned to Violet. “I can see Beatrice and my brother in you from miles away as well, Violet. You’ve got the Snicket eyes. Now to answer your question, Violet, Olaf and I have what you’d call a history.”

“I know,” Violet replied. Jacques and Klaus looked at her confused and shocked.

“Why do you have the same eye tattoo as Olaf?” Klaus asked.

Jacques chuckled. “Silly boy, it’s not an eye,” he lifted his pant leg for Klaus and Violet to see his tattoo once more. “Look closer. It’s three letters.” Jacques traced his tattoo with his finger. “V...F...D,”

Klaus’ eyes widened in surprise as Violet’s turned into a glare. Which confused Jacques. He was sure she’d be surprised, too. He knew Lemony would never teach his child about VFD.

“Oooh! Maybe house arrest! And he has to wear one of those scratchy ankle things.” Mr. Lesko suggested loudly.

“You’re getting warmer, fancy pants! But let’s make it hot!” Dupin yelled to the crowd.

“Listen...once I’m free, and I will get free,” he reiterated. “And the Quagmires and Sunny are safe. My associate and I will take you…” he began before being cut off by Esme.

“I know!” she squealed. “I say we burn him at the stake!”

Everyone in the Town Hall got quiet for a second except for Olaf’s troupe who cheered at Esme’s suggestion. Violet’s eyes widened as Klaus looked to the villains in disbelief. Even Jacques’ face turned frightened, as he remembered what Olaf said about his little plan.

“Fantastic idea!” the first Elder replied.

“Tremendous!” the second Elder commented.

“Ethically iffy but very exciting,” the third Elder agreed.

Jacques quickly turned to the two children as the town cheered. “Okay...I may need some help after all,” he admitted. He smiled at Violet. “Ever break a man out of prison?” he asked.

Violet and Klaus looked at one another skeptically. “How hard can it be?” Violet asked uncertainly.

“That’s the Snicket spirit,” Jacques replied. “You sound like your aunt,”

“My aunt…?” Violet asked.

Before Jacques could reply to her. The three Elders smacked their gavels down to silence the crowd.

“Then it is settled!” one yelled.

“Olaf will be burned at the stake tomorrow after breakfast,”

“Meeting adjourned!” the last elder yelled as many townspeople began to get out of their seats heading towards the exit.

“ No!” Violet screamed. “That’s not Count Olaf! That’s my uncle!”

Detective Dupin began to scat happily, smirking towards Jacques and the two children.

“Wait your uncle is Count Olaf?” Mrs. Morrow asked.

Violet shuddered at the mere prospect. “ No!” she screeched.

Klaus stood up quickly trying one last thing to save his sister’s uncle. “Wait! You can’t burn this man. If you believe he is Olaf...then he has my sister and my friends kidnapped. He knows where they are. We should postpone burning him until they're found!” he reasoned.

Officer Luciana just laughed as she roughly grabbed Jacques’ shoulders. Violet glared at her. “Unhand him, you bitch,” she hissed through her tears.

Luciana ignored her. She turned to Klaus. “Don’t worry little orphan boy. We don’t need Count Olaf to find the missing children. We have the great and famous Detective Dupin for that.”

Klaus glared towards the villainous woman as Dupin stepped closer to him. “Yes, Officer Luciana is right. I’ll find the missing children without the help of this vile man.”

“Glad to see you’re self-aware,” Jacques remarked.

“Andiamo, prisoner!” Luciana replied pushing Jacques. Jacques rolled his eyes as he started to walk away from Violet and Klaus. “I’m counting on you, volunteers,” he called out to the children. Violet hated that word so much but she was willing to be a volunteer if it meant saving her family. “Snickets take care of their own,” he called out to her, which hit her into her core. He was right. Snickets did take care of their own.

Violet stood up ready to chase after Luciana and her uncle. Ready to beat down Esme in order to save him.

“Uh uh,” Dupin muttered stepping in front of Violet. “You wouldn’t want to leave the bookworm here...all alone...with me, would you?” he asked in a low whisper grabbing onto Klaus’ shoulder.

Violet glared at Detective Dupin. Jacques turned around to make sure Olaf wasn’t harming either child. “ Get away from her, you fuck!” he barked. Struggling with Esme to turn around and protect his niece and Klaus.

Esme sighed and pulled out her baton. Thwacking Jacques in the side with it as hard as she could. “Let’s go, prisoner!” she yelled as Jacques groaned in pain.

“Uncle cow!” Violet yelled. Her mind was such a mess, she didn’t even realize what she had said until she noticed Olaf laughing.

Jacques rolled his eyes. “Lemony would tell you that fucking story,” he muttered as Esme pushed him out of Violet and Klaus’ sight. Detective Dupin followed behind them, he turned back to the two kids.

“Didn’t I tell you that you would love that part?” he called out to Violet. He wasn’t even turned to face her but she knew he was smirking. She could hear it in his voice. As he walked out of the nearly empty Town Hall, leaving the two kids with Hector, who was slowly standing up. “See you soon, orphans,” he began to maniacally laugh. His laugh echoing the empty Town Hall as he left the two siblings and their guardian.

Violet fell to her knees and began to sob. “No...no...no...this isn’t fair. He can’t...he isn’t...he won’t take anyone else from me!” she hissed reaching for her ribbon.

“Violet...are you okay?” Klaus asked as he helped Hector to his feet.

“Of course, I am,” Violet replied tying her hair tightly. “ Snickets take care of their own.”

There had never been a time that violet Snicket had said that motto and meant it as much as she did at that moment. With a fire burning in her Snicket eyes, she refused to allow Count Olaf to take anyone else from her.

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anxiously-unsatisfied-world · 5 years

Text

It Takes Two to Tango - Ch. 7

Pairing: eventual Prinxiety & Logicality Word Count: 2643 Warnings: Nerves (like vague mentions)

A/N: Ooh, we’re getting close to the end! The chapter of the big performance has arrived! :D (also, idk how historically accurate one part is but it’s my story and I wanted fluff so... *shrugs*) See you Tuesday for chapter eight! <3

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The restaurant that they arrive at is much fancier than what Roman is expecting. Based on where they ate lunch, he assumed that it would be a casual restaurant similar to a diner. But no, Virgil has taken him to a proper sit-down restaurant.

Virgil looks down shyly when he sees how surprised Roman is, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck as he stutters out, “U-uh, I just thought that it’d be a place you’d like.” Virgil gives a little shrug and Roman smiles.

“Well, you’re right about that, Virgil,” Roman says and Virgil relaxes just in time for Roman to lightly tap his nose with a finger. Virgil goes cross-eyed and blinks, causing Roman to chuckle softly. “Come on, Dark and Stormy Knight. Let’s get us a table.”

Virgil nods and goes ahead, dragging Roman with him. They get seated in a secluded corner table away from the other customers. Roman’s a bit confused but he guesses it has something to do with how Virgil’s basically a celebrity here.

Neither of them talks much until the food has been ordered, but once it has, they fall into an easy conversation with Virgil preparing Roman a bit for their upcoming performance.

“So basically, you have to follow my lead for the most part, but it’s evident that you’re good at that, so this should go smoothly. Just add your flashy, eye-catching moves at the appropriate times and the audience will love it.” Virgil says though he trusts Roman to do this well. After all, he did pick him to be his dance partner for tonight. That says something.

Roman nods in agreement, finding all of that easy to understand and what he was going to do anyway. With that, he starts telling a story of one of his first performances with Virgil listening intently.

The waitress comes with the food while they’re in the midst of telling stories to each other and she smiles as she sets the food down. “Pardon me if this sounds rude, but you two are really cute together.”

Virgil’s face goes hot while Roman’s mouth falls open a little in shock that she would make such an assumption and be okay with it (he hadn’t really expected anyone to be accepting of him in this time).

“W-we’re not!” Roman waves his hands while Virgil sinks back, a slightly embarrassed look on his face, but no disgust. Hmm, that’s interesting. But not exactly the most important thing right now.

Roman files that thought away for later as he swiftly and smoothly tells the waitress that they’re not a couple but she just giggles like she doesn’t quite believe them, leaving once all the food’s been put in front of them.

Virgil and Roman are silent for a moment, the sound of their cutlery sounding loud in their ears. “Well, that was something,” Roman says with a soft chuckle and Virgil gives a half-smile.

“Yeah, it certainly was…” Virgil starts to snicker, their eyes meeting and causing them to break into laughter.

It takes a bit of time before they’re able to look at each other without setting off more laughter, even the slightest bit of eye contact reminding them why they’re laughing. Once they’re both calm, they begin to eat, a calm and relaxed atmosphere settling over them.

At one point, Virgil looks up from his food to say something but catches Roman watching him fondly, causing his own cheeks to heat up. Roman blushes upon being caught and smiles coyly at him. Virgil snorts softly but says what he was going to say anyway, acting like he hadn’t caught Roman looking at him in the first place.

Roman finishes his food first, always having been a quick eater, so he just watches Virgil. Virgil’s aware of it this time, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as he would expect to have someone watching him expectantly like this. It almost feels comfortable...domestic, almost.

“You know, I really am glad that you chose me to be your partner for tonight.” Roman comments, a softness to his eyes that has Virgil melting internally.

“Yeah?” Virgil asks and Roman nods, a subtle shyness to his expression that Virgil finds adorable.

“Yeah. It means a lot.” Roman says with a slight shrug, trying to play it off as less important than what his words signify.

Virgil just smiles at him in response and finishes eating, paying for the meal when the waitress comes back despite Roman offering to pay for his half.

“Well, it’s showtime,” Virgil says, extending his hand towards Roman as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. When Roman takes it, he gives it a soft squeeze before leading Roman to the venue for their performance.

“Get dressed then stretch. You’ll need it.” Virgil orders as they arrive at the green room. He grabs his outfit and ducks behind one of the changing screens, Roman doing the same.

Roman comes out first as the dress isn’t that hard to put on compared to all the pieces on Virgil’s outfit and begins going through his stretches in preparation for the hours to come.

When Virgil steps out from behind the screen, he can’t help but watch Roman for a moment, quietly admiring the way the dress hugs his figure. He shakes his head, snorting softly to himself as he stretches out his muscles, not noticing the way that Roman’s eyes linger on him as he does so.

Roman tries to focus more on his stretches than on the other but it’s so difficult. Why do black and purple have to be the colors that make Virgil look gorgeous? Also, it hasn’t slipped his mind that their outfits are matching - both being primarily black with accents of another color.

Roman shakes his head, forcing his eyes down to focus on what he’s doing. It’s just for show purposes that they have to match. It’ll make a better impression on the audience. There’s nothing else to it. Even if it does make Roman’s heart flutter at other implications of their outfits matching. Like they’re a proper couple…

Once they’re stretched well enough, it’s just a matter of waiting until showtime. “Are you nervous?” Virgil asks, watching Roman with careful eyes.

“A little.” Roman says, shrugging a little, “But it’s nothing more than pre-show jitters. I’m fine.”

Virgil nods, assured by the certainty in his voice. “Good. You’ll do great. I know you will. The audience will love you.”

“They always do,” Roman says with a chuckle and a dramatic gesture that causes Virgil to start laughing. Roman’s eyes soften as he watches tears come to the corners of Virgil’s eyes, finding this show of unabashed glee beautiful. Or maybe that’s just Virgil.

“Well, glad to see you’re confident,” Virgil says once he’s stopped laughing. His eyes settle on a clock on the wall and nods, extending a hand to Roman once again. “Come on, let’s head to the stage.”

Roman takes his hand, hit with the realization that he’ll miss this when he has to go back to his own time. Thankfully, Virgil has turned away from him so he doesn’t see the split-second sad expression on Roman’s face.

Roman takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he’ll focus on the repercussions of his feelings for Virgil later, after the performance. It wouldn’t do to perform badly just because his mind is elsewhere.

Virgil leads Roman to the stage and they wait in the wings for the announcer to introduce them. They walk out to enthusiastic applause, bowing in front of the audience before turning to each other and getting into position.

The music starts to play and Virgil leads Roman in a slow walk to match the quietness of the music. As the music grows louder, it grows faster and so does their walk. At slight pauses between notes, Roman moves accordingly, his flashy moves slightly dulled down for this calmer part of the music.

Once the song has hit its most exciting point, Virgil and Roman are bouncing off of each other in terms of their moves, mimicking each other in some places and going off on their own in others. Either way, it has the audience following their every move.

The first song ends with Roman throwing an arm in the air as he leans into Virgil’s embrace. The audience goes wild with clapping, only stopping once the next song begins.

This goes like this for several songs before it’s the final one, Virgil letting Roman know while the audience is busy applauding them.

This time they both go all out with even Virgil showing flashier moves than usual. Something about this dance feels different, their excitement and passion blending with the audience’s to create a heady mix of emotions.

When it comes the time to do the big finale, Virgil draws Roman even closer to him as Roman extends one of his back legs, both of them prepared for Virgil to dip Roman. Roman pulls in the leg he extended up between them as Virgil dips him dangerously low, trusting Virgil not to drop him.

Roman throw one of his arms out and down as the final note hits and the audience goes wild, many audience members standing and clapping. Roman and Virgil stay stationary for a moment, breathing hard and looking into each others’ eyes.

Roman’s eyes slip down to Virgil’s lips for a moment, something that Virgil doesn’t miss, pressed as close as they are to each other. But as much as Roman knows he’d love to kiss Virgil right now, he also knows it’s not the time for it.

Instead, they both pull away and walk to the end of the stage and bow, eliciting even more applause from the audience. After a few moments, they both walk offstage and head back to the green room to change out of their dance clothes.

“Look, I don’t know what your plans are now that the performance is over,” Virgil says once they’re both back in their usual clothes. “But, would you mind staying the night with me one more time? I’ll let you go in the morning, but it's too late for me to let you go tonight.”

Roman smiles at the indirect way that Virgil’s trying to say that he doesn’t want to be without Roman either and he nods. “Of course, my emo prince. I’d love to.”

Virgil’s shoulders relax at his words. Silently, he takes Roman’s hand, taking a second to marvel at how comfortable that feels when they’ve barely known each other for a few days, and they head back to Virgil’s house together.

The walk back is relaxed and carefree, reminding Roman almost of the feeling he’d get when he walked a date back to their place. Their shoulders occasionally brush due to their close proximity and Roman has half a mind to just wrap an arm around Virgil’s waist to close the remaining distance.

He doesn’t, though, afraid that Virgil wouldn’t respond to it well and it would ruin their last night together. Also, he’s afraid of growing even closer to Virgil in a way that would make it nearly impossible for him to leave, though a growing part of him is worried that it’s already reached that point.

Once they arrive at Virgil’s house, they kick off their shoes and silently agree to head to the kitchen, both of them starving after their performance. There’s no discussion of what they’re going to eat, instead, Virgil starts cooking while Roman assists, the act of cooking almost like a dance between them.

As ravenous as they are, no talking happens over their second dinner, both finishing their food around the same time. It’s a silent agreement to leave the dishes for later as Roman takes Virgil’s hand and pulls him into the living room and settling on the couch together.

Unlike this morning - had it really been just a single day?- where they sat on opposite ends of the couch, this time Roman sits down and pulls Virgil to sit right beside him. Virgil simply chuckles and leans against Roman, smiling shyly when Roman wraps an arm around him.

“Hi there,” Virgil says, laughter in his voice as he meets Roman’s eyes, allowing himself to get lost in them now that they’re alone.

Roman blushes under his gaze and smiles at him, one full of happiness and warmth. “Why, hello.” He chuckles softly and draws Virgil a tiny bit closer. “Today was amazing. Thanks for showing me around.”

“It was no problem. It was nice. I don’t usually get to show people around here.” Virgil has a slightly unsure look before he rests his head on Roman’s shoulder, his voice sounding shy even to his own ears.

Roman’s heart just about stops beating the second Virgil does that, his heart-rate doubling in speed as Virgil makes a soft, contented noise and nestles into him. How is that one man can be this adorable?!

Roman hums lightly in response, reaching up and brushing Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes. Virgil makes a little sound and leans into Roman’s hand, his eyes slipping shut as Roman runs his fingers through his hair.

They stay like that for a little while until Roman brings his hand down to cup Virgil’s cheek. Their eyes meet and it’s like time has stopped. Roman leans down and brushes his lips against Virgil’s forehead. It hits him a second later what he just did and he’s about to apologize for not thinking when Virgil smirks at him.

“You missed, Princey. By like, a lot.” Virgil sets his hand on the back of Roman’s neck and kisses him.

Roman freezes for a second, unable to comprehend that Virgil likes him back, but when it feels like Virgil’s about to pull away, Roman grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him back.

There are no fireworks like in fairytales but there is the sense that Roman wouldn’t want to be kissing anyone else. He’s had a few kisses in his life before but none of them have made his head spin in quite the same way. None of them even compares.

Virgil pulls back first, panting heavily, his eyes both nervous and happy at the same time. Once he catches his breath, the nerves seem to outweigh the happiness. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

Roman cuts him off by kissing the tip of his nose gently. “It’s quite alright, my dark knight. I quite enjoyed it.” Roman soothes Virgil, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair until he has relaxed fully.

“It seems I have some thinking to do on what I’ll be doing from now on… I was planning on leaving town but now I’m not so sure.” Roman says and Virgil nods.

“We can discuss in the morning, but could you hold me for a little while longer?” Virgil asks, sounding vulnerable in a way that Roman hasn’t heard from this snarky dancer yet.

“Of course, Virgil, of course.” Roman pulls Virgil to lay against his chest and they stay like that until Virgil falls asleep in Roman’s arms.

Roman carries Virgil to his bed and tucks him in, leaning down and kissing his forehead softly. He shuts the door as quietly as he can in hopes of letting Virgil sleep and then he heads to the guest room, knowing he has a lot to deliberate on now. Because after that kiss, he does not want to leave Virgil. Despite how short a time they’ve known each other, it would hurt too much to be without him.

But, Roman smiles as he picks up the communication device Logan gave him, he won’t have to decide alone. Logan should be able to help him decide what’s the best thing to do in this situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist (for this fic): @goondis-and-the-plupples, @ccecode, @dead4sevenyears, @the-crazed-band-kid, @zamoradraw, @lunatherumba, @life-dont-just-exist @sanders-sides-rebloger @thesynysterunknown @soul-of-a-vixen @smolvessel @grapeofsoda @ncity21 @hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjjhhhhh @ash-marrie @4evermarvelfan @the-fandoms-are-takin-over @bookworm85blr @statsvitenskap @flutie40 @gatekeeper1010 @gaylotusthatexists @pankiddo @somethingoffandoms @flowersheep @littleladynightshade @virgil-vamp @jessicakennedy957

General TS Taglist: @anuninspiredpoet, @echomist13, @theresneverenoughfandoms @fiive-second-cookies @sevencrashing, @virgil-is-verge @fandermom @evilmuffin @fairytailtwists

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#sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #it takes two to tango #my posts

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

Text

Come up and see me (make me smile)

Golgotha, 33 AD

Summary: Golgotha, 3004 BC.

Word count: 1934 words

AN: Continues on from the role-reversal au started in Come up and see me (make me smile)

Thanks again to @mia-ugly for being a wonderful and supportive beta reader.

(read on ao3)

Six hours.

That was how long he suffered before death finally took him.

Six. Fucking . Hours.

(“They call it crucifixion.” Aziraphale had told him once - centuries ago, in a Persian tavern - eyes downcast, as his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the jar of wine in his hands. “They hammer seven-inch nails between the wrist bones to suspend the body’s weight then, over time, the force wrenches the shoulders from their sockets and crushes the rib cage.” he explained flatly. “The condemned is kept in excruciating pain until they suffocate or their heart gives out.“ The demon drank deeply from the jar. "It can last for hours, even days depending on the method.” He looked up, meeting Crowley’s eyes for the first time that evening. “Every time I think I’ve seen the full extent of their barbarity - every blessed time - they find a way to outdo themselves.“)

Unlike Aziraphale, this was the first crucifixion Crowley had attended. Although the demon’s description had been accurate Crowley found it hadn’t prepared him for the actual experience.

In fairness to the demon, Crowley wasn’t sure words existed that could fully convey the experience as well as agonized screams were able to.

Crowley hadn’t attended the trial or the sentencing, it felt pointless when he knew what the outcome would be. He had however attempted to miracle the man impervious to pain. (It seemed like the least he could do). Crowley had felt it take effect with some satisfaction, and then felt it being reverted immediately with annoyance. He tried two more times before he received a strongly-worded communication (i.e. Gabriel yelling directly into his brain) that any further interference would be treated as grounds for Crowliel’s removal from earth. A follow-up from Michael (rather less yelling, but still headache-inducing) warned Crowley that crucifixion had been chosen especially for its brutality (to establish a “convincingly sympathetic religious symbol”) and that he should keep an eye out for demonic interference instead of being a nuisance.

Well, that was him told .

He arrived at Golgotha just as the procession made its way to the base of the skull-shaped rock. Aziraphale spotted him shortly afterwards, the demon weaving through the crowd to take a place at Crowley’s side. They had both winced - and noticed the other doing so - as the centurion’s hammer was put to its purpose. Aziraphale threw Crowley a look as if to say ” well, this is certainly fucked up “ but otherwise remained silent.

As the mourners wailed, and the three men grew more delirious from pain, Crowley wondered why his demonic counterpart was even there. Unlike other demons - Aziraphale was not the type to take pleasure from others’ suffering, yet he also seemed disinclined to interfere. Instead he looked restless, he kept stealing uneasy glances skyward and at Crowley as though he were waiting for divine intervention.

Good luck with that. Crowely thought bitterly.

The hours passed, the sky darkened - Jesus finally, blessedly, died - and the bodies were brought down and carried away. The mourners and spectators gradually dispersed until it was just the two of them remaining, sitting side by side on a large bench-shaped rock the demon had miracled about three hours into the proceedings.

But now, Aziraphale had taken to his feet - he was pacing back and forth. Crowley watched him and found himself torn. Equal parts longing to start a conversation and unable to think of anything to say. Well, he could think of plenty to say, but there was a low-burning bitter fury in his gut - the type that led him to voice the sort of thoughts that worried his demonic friend. So he remained silent.

“Did you ever meet him?” Aziraphale asked, a little too suddenly, as if the question has been on the tip of his tongue for hours.

Crowley shook his head, still staring out at the now-empty wooden beams.

“I did once,” Aziraphale started, “I was assigned to tempt him to faithlessness.” Crowley looked up at that, and Aziraphale smiled wryly at his surprise. “I don’t think anyone below really expected it to take, they just felt like we should be seen to do something .”

“How did that work out for you?” Crowley asked, genuinely curious.

“He was exceptionally clever and stubbornly devout. How do you think it went?” Crowley smirked at him, and Aziraphale laughed. “I changed tactics of course. Debated theology and ethics with him until I was blue in the face - we had forty days so thought odds were good I might catch him in some form of hypocrisy. It was truly vexing. He gave the impression that I amused him.” Aziraphale seemed fond of the memory. “You would have liked him.”

Crowley didn’t doubt it.

“I’m sure I would have.”

(It was the reason he had avoided Nazareth since the annunciation. He may have been slow on the uptake - it might have taken forty years of pointless wandering with a tribe of doomed Israelites - but no one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes. When the Almighty played favourites it was best not to get emotionally invested.

He felt an urge to confess that to Aziraphale, but suppressed it. Crowley was unsure whether Aziraphale would applaud his self-preservation or be disgusted with his cowardice.)

“Be kind to each other.” the demon said out of the blue, startling Crowley from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“That’s what he said to anger them all.” The demon’s tone was inscrutable, but Crowley thought his words were an over-simplification.

“For my money, it was his knack for drawing crowds and threatening their authority.”

Aziraphale shook his head angrily.

“He was kind and they tortured him for it.” The demon’s voice had a hard edge to it. “He believed in Her and She abandoned him.” he spat.

Oh.

The demon turned his face away. Crowley heard his breathing hitch.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley didn’t know what to say, how to approach this type of anger. (A millennia-old question burned in his throat, one he desperately wanted answered but not at the cost of causing his friend more pain.)

“Do you think She felt anything when he cried out for Her?” the demon asked.

Crowley wanted badly to reach out and grasp Aziraphale’s hand within his own. Wanted to use that grip to pull the demon into his arms. Wanted to offer him whatever comfort he could. Wanted, but didn’t.

Coward.

His fingers twitched.

“Aziraphale, I-”

The demon turned to look at Crowley and studied him. He forced a smile.

“It’s alright dear.”

“No it’s…”

“Let’s not speak of it.” he says firmly. “I shouldn’t have sa-”.

“She’s bringing him back.” Crowley blurted out, stopping the demon in his tracks.

“What?”

“In three days, he’ll be resurrected. Then he’ll ascend to a seat by her side. She didn’t-” abandon him. Crowley cut himself off. “It wasn’t a punishment.” he said instead.

Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley stood, approaching the demon slowly as though he might bolt.

“I’m glad for him.” Aziraphale said finally, voice raw.

Liar. Crowley thought. His expression must give him away because Aziraphale’s lips twisted into a smile. “No, really. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No he didn’t.” Crowley stressed with absolute certainty, hoping he’d made himself clear. He received a sharp look in response.

“Don’t. I was indulging in self-pity and you shouldn’t humour me- just don’t.”

Crowley raised both hands placatingly.

“OK I won’t.”

“Good.” Aziraphale pronounced.

A beat of awkward silence hung between them.

Aziraphale fumbled with his outer tunic and produced a leather pouch. He unfastened the tie and held it out to Crowley. “Apricot?”

Crowley stared at him blankly.

“You brought snacks?“ (A small, easily dismissed, part of Crowley's brain delighted in how precious that was.)

“I always carry something,” the demon replied defensively. “And I haven’t eaten all day!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “We don’t need to eat.”

Aziraphale shrugged and stuffed a few apricots into his mouth. “It does feel awfully good though.” he responded, while chewing. The innocent pleasure on his face cheered Crowley considerably.

“Oh go on,” he held a hand out.

Aziraphale grinned, and dumped five or six pieces onto Crowley’s palm. Then the cheeky bastard laughed.

“Who knew tempting an angel would be so easy?”

Crowley stared at the dried fruit in his hand and then back at the demon. He picked up a piece and regarded it carefully, enjoying the weight of Aziraphale’s anticipation. Then, he pelted it at him. He grinned at the demon’s surprised yelp.

“Will you stay here long?” Crowley asked innocently, entertained by the way Aziraphale was warily eyeing the remaining apricots in his hand.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Received orders last night, it’s Rome for me. You?”

Crowley popped the rest of the dried fruit in his mouth. “Here for the time being,” he replied, chewing thoughtfully, “although Heaven knows I should look in on the empire if you’ve been left there unattended.”

Aziraphale groaned at the familiar jibe.

“It’s been over five decades, surely we can move past this?"

"Of course, as soon as you stop insulting my intelligence and just admit what you did.”

“You have no proof whatsoever.”

“Four years of you whinging about Alexandria, then his senators turn on him the very week you arrive in the city.”

"Coincidence?” Aziraphale offered sheepishly.

“Try again.”

“Divine justice?”

Crowley glared at him. Aziraphale gave him a charming smile.

“It really was a beautiful library.”

Crowley tried to maintain the glare, but failed miserably. Completely unable to contain an amused huff.

He turned to look in the east, where the sun was beginning to rise. “I should probably be off soon.”

“Go on, I’m planning to fly to Jaffa from here anyway.”

Crowley hung back. Though the demon had hinted at his other form several times Crowley had never seen it.

“You know you can transform in front of me right? I wouldn’t think less of you for it.”

“Oh I know that,” the demon responded far too quickly, “it’s just not very impressive that’s all.”

“I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale looked uncomfortable. “They’re meant to be a bad omen, I wouldn’t want to curse you inadvertently.”

Crowley smirked.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Aziraphale sighed and then changed. Shrinking rapidly, his black and white curls morphed into brown and white feathers. His yellow eyes were the only part of him that remained the same. Crowley stretched out a hand and Aziraphale flew up to perch on it. He couldn’t have been more than eight inches tall.

“You’re adorable.” Crowley raised a finger to stroke the downy patch underneath his beak and received a (gentle peck).

“I’m formidable.” The owl grumbled back.

“You’re so little.” Another peck, this time sharper. “None of that now.” Crowley chastised. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t show this form off more, you’re very handsome like this.”

“Oh handsome ‘like this’ am I? Thank you very much.” Crowley tried not to laugh as the annoyed demon literally ruffled its feathers.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Your eyes are always very striking, demon.”

“I’ll see you in Rome, angel . That is if you can bear to see my hideous human form."

That did make Crowley laugh. "You’re just fishing for compliments now.” he stroked Aziraphale’s head, somewhat surprised the demon was allowing such an affectionate gesture. The owl made a happy sounding trill noise which it cut off abruptly - as though it had taken him by surprise. Without another word the demon head-butted Crowley’s fingers away and flew off.

Crowley watched until Aziraphale disappeared from view before he made his way back to the town.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #good omens role reversal #role reversal au #reversed omens #demon!aziraphale #angel!crowley #my writing

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lettersnorth · 5 years

Text

October Prompt: Silence

Music Theme (First part) Music Theme (Second part)

The crushed stones crunched under her boots as she made her way up the walk. Pushing against the manor’s heavy oak doors, Aislinn shouldered her way inside. The Company manor appeared to be blissfully quiet. The caretakers were certainly around somewhere but the manor was a big place. No one came hurrying to greet her and given her current state of mind, that was just fine with her.

She paused in the foyer, her senses stretching in the quiet. Soft murmurs and tinkling of silverware came from the cafe. So, someone was home. She stared at the grand staircase for a long moment, torn between going directly upstairs to the library or her room. Travel worn and weary in more ways than one, she could use a bath. And a change of clothes. But she had always found solace and wisdom in those old tomes and her mind needed that as much as her body needed rest.

She swayed there, next to the marble fountain. Tired and wrung out like a threadbare tea towel. In the end Bertram hadn’t needed saving. She had told Ren, relayed the message. There was no need to track down another thrall. Her work on this particular project would cease. She still wasn’t sure if he had taken the news entirely well, truthfully she didn’t expect it of him, knowing what it meant for the brothers. But it was neither hers or Ren’s decision to make. It was Bertram’s and they would need to abide by his wishes. She would have to check in with Ren after he had some time to process. He was a system without a pressure relief valve, she reminded herself. As hard as this was for her, it was likely harder for him.

“I do applaud your juvenile efforts.”

A wave of prideful anger washed over her as she recalled Garrett’s sneering words. Mostly because she saw the truth in them now. That is what it all amounted to, wasn’t it? A fumbling, misguided, juvenile attempt to do what she thought was right.

Casting a forlorn look up towards the library, Aislinn sighed. She was exhausted, body and mind. Chances are, the words on the page would all run together anyhow in the state she was in. Best to regroup and tackle the problem fresh in the morning.

So she went to her room, unlocking the door, shuffling inside and dropping her pack on the floor. As she shut the door behind her, she heard the crackling of a fire in the fireplace. She hadn’t been home for weeks, the caretakers never wandered into personal rooms, there should be no reason for a fire to be lit. And yet. She felt as if the pressure in the room had dropped suddenly. Her ears popped. This sensation of hers came on suddenly and usually with only one purpose. Pressing a hand against one ear, she slowly turned and reached for the nearest light.

Her spine shot ramrod straight and she took several steps back, towards the door, all the while conscious of her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest like a frightened animal.

“How did you get in? Why are you here?”

The languid midlander currently reclining in a lounge chair, watched her reaction with interest. “Your Company runs a cafe. Anyone can walk in. As for your room, simple three pin tumbler lock on the door. I expected more.” Sterling said, stretching out his long legs before the fireplace, looking for all intents and purposes, most comfortable. “Don’t be so coy, Aislinn. Obviously, I’ve come all this way to see you. Sit down, let’s have a chat.”

“If you’ve something to say, say it and leave.” she stiffly replied.

He tensed in the chair, subtly, but Aislinn noticed. She took another step back, her innards growing cold before swiftly reminding herself her chakrams still sat on her hips.

“Such hostility.” he sighed. “Let’s get down to it, then. You’ve gone and attracted yourself some attention. Seems the Blades have suddenly renewed their interest in you. Why is that?”

He leaned forward in his seat and tossed a flyer on the coffee table. With one eye on him, she moved closer and looked down at the parchment. A wanted poster. A fairly accurate sketch of herself, right down to the scar across her face. She cursed under her breath. She told the lieutenant it wasn’t a good idea for her to be in Ul’dah. She told him. He had said she was the only engineer they had without Tyr. They needed her for the job. He was right. But look at what it had cost her.

“Do these people you’ve surrounded yourself with know? Your history, I mean. How you made ends meet in Ul’dah. The cartel. The drug running. That unfortunate issue with the Blade. You spent time in the gaol for that, didn’t you?”

There was no need to ask Sterling who he meant. He had obviously been watching her for awhile now. That was his way. Patient and unhurried, thorough so that when he did pounce it made the biggest impact. She was unnaturally still as he ran down the list of her past sins.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, this is Limsa Lominsa. Smuggling is par for the course. No one’s going to bat an eye if you mean to spout off.” she said, quiet but unsure.

He shrugged, hooking his claws into her uncertainty and dragging her down. “Let’s say, purely for example, I find you Ala Mhigans are rather simple folk that fall into two categories. Those mule-headed enough to stick to their principles and those that will toss them to the wind in favor of food and gil. That friend of yours seems to be the former.” he said as he rose from the chair. “Let’s also say, again, for example, that this Company you’ve found is full of disciplined, decent folk.”

Aislinn watched in silence as he slowly began to amble around her apartment, idly touching things as he went. It made her want to scream.

“You haven’t been honest and people like that hate dishonesty.” he picked up a half-built servo, studied it intently before putting it back in its place, all the while knowing he had her full attention. “I could help, if you like. Sit down and have a heart to heart with them.”

“That’s very obliging of you.” she said tightly. “But I’d rather you didn’t trouble yourself.”

“What about your Company Commander? Does he know he’s harboring a fugitive?”

The Commander. She hadn’t exactly made the best first impression with him, had she? Tyr had smoothed it over but now he was blowing in the wind. No one knew where.

“5,000 gil a moon and I keep this all quiet.” he stated. “That’s my price.”

“5...that’s ridiculous!” she started. “I’ll tell them myself before I give you one coin.”

“You could. But life’s not been kind to you, Aislinn. Can you really afford to lose the ties you’ve made here? And let’s not forget the Blades. I’m sure they’d be interested in your whereabouts. It’d be my sworn duty as a citizen of Ul’dah to convey such information.”

“Unless you were too busy. Extorting me and spending the gil.” she dryly replied. “The sum is too much.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re a smart one, you’ll find a way.” he said, with a shrug. “And if not we can come to some other arrangement.”

She jerked back, the blood draining from her face. Her thoughts must have been clearly written and on display because in the next moment he passed her a look a disgust.

“Not that. No one wants a cold fish in their bed. Gods.” he gave a sharp shake of his head as if the very idea repulsed him. “Just what kind of monster do you think I am?”

Her heart resumed its steady beat in her chest. She worked quickly to rally and recover. “An audacious plan coming from a man whose hands are no cleaner than mine. Blow me in and I could tell the Blades everything I know about the cartel.”

He hardly looked impressed with her threat. “How’d that go last time, telling the truth?” He asked, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to face her fully. “I assume that when they threw you in the gaol you must have been shouting from the rooftops that their man was forcing himself on ‘innocent’ girls. And yet you still found yourself on the docket for a hanging.” he tilted his head, his tone turning reasoned and cogent. “This is a discussion between old friends. I see no reason to drag the cartel into this. You know how they can be, surely you remember.”

She remembered. Some days it was all she could do to forget. She would never be free of it, Aislinn realized with a sudden riptide of certainty. Of Ul’dah. Of the cartel. Of him. For every strike, he had a parry. Of course he did. This was Sterling. He never engaged in any fight he wasn’t absolutely certain of winning. The truth was a crushing weight bearing down on her. This was the rest of her life. Penance for surviving.

Without a word, she crossed to the cabinet near the door and pulled open the drawer. She took several small pouches of gil she had saved up and dumped them into one larger one before turning and tossing the purse to him.

He caught it with ease and tucked it into his riding coat with a smirk. “It would seem this concludes our business for now. I’ll show myself out.”

As he moved past her on his way to the door, he paused and studied her. Raising a hand, he motioned with one finger to the scar across her face, stopping just short of touching her. “That really didn’t heal up well at all, did it? What a shame.”

He never could resist a parting shot. She didn’t trust herself to reply but stared resolutely ahead, her fury written in the sharp lines of her clenched jaw and squared shoulders. The shutting of the door behind Sterling rang hollow in the otherwise silent apartment. Aislinn found herself unable to move, rooted to the spot, not knowing what she might do if she did.

She closed her eyes and reminded herself she’d walked through fire and escaped it. Not unscarred, but tempered, like steel. She could bend, but she wouldn’t ever break. Not again.

#FFXIV #ffxiv rp #ffxiv writing #monthly prompt #balmung #ffxiv crystal rp

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