#so sorry the guys look really pale in some shots…i tried | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dw-writes · 11 months

Text

The Invasion...Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Mad Sweeney could not recall the last true believer he had. Sure, he’d been brought over as one of the Fair Folk, but it was different. A sliver of the truth, a dim shadow of what he was really owed. The belief of someone who followed traditions, not him.

That changed when he arrived in Cairo.

That changed when he laid eyes on you and he found that one didn’t have to believe in the myth to believe in the man.

A/N: I am.... SO SORRY. this chapter really shouldn't have taken me [checks calendar] LOL ALMOST A YEAR TO WRITE HOLY SHIT IM SO SORRY. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think!!! And i'm sorry ahead of time for the pain :3 (not really yall were expecting it) also enjoy the latest crossover to happen in this series. i hope you enjoy!!! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fourteen-ish || Chapter Fifteen || Chapter Sixteen || Chapter Seventeen || Chapter Eighteen || Chapter Nineteen || Chapter Twenty || Chapter Twenty-One || Chapter Twenty-Two Requests: Mad Sweeney and The Holidays || The Invasion and the Stressful Blows One Shots: The Invasion and That One Thankful Holiday || The Invasion and the Weight of Change || Eyes On You

The Invasion and the Big Easy

Beautiful Aphrodite had only ever felt rage twice in her long life - once, thousands of years prior, as she watched the carnage that unfolded to retrieve the prize that she had given young Paris, and second, when she saw you.

You, sitting in an empty room, eyes glassy from too much alcohol and manufactured self-doubt. She knew what it was from, had felt your heart chip throughout the night from across the country while you fitfully slept under the concerned gaze of a new friend. Whispers of a voice filled the corners of the quiet room.

She turned to them, her incorporeal form non-existent to your unfocused gaze and the man who sat on the floor near you. The face of a young woman filled the unplugged television. Rose didn’t recognize her – it was some different form of Media, a newer one, a viral one. The young woman stopped whispering and met the goddess’s furious gaze.

The television cracked, the image disappeared, and the room fell silent. She turned back to you and watched your exhausted eyes close. The man mumbled, lifting his head to check you, then settled back against the wall with a sigh.

She made a note to learn his name and remembered how love existed in so many forms.

Elsewhere, Rose slumped into the arms of her two loves. They exchanged worried glances above her head as she mumbled to herself, “My poor messenger.” She sighed. Her concerns traced the cracks in your heart through your long day to the point she remembered last speaking to you, when you were happy, and the events of your day played out against her eyelids.

You stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large and bustling Athens of a different age. Your bare feet were cradled by plush, green grass while a cream-colored toga fluttered around your legs.

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” said fair Aphrodite as she stepped up next to you. You tried to look at her, but her face kept changing, as did the rest of her. She cycled through so many features like an ever-changing portrait, each paint stroke melting into the next, all trapped beneath a pale pink robe that brushed the ground.

“Have we ever really sat and talked?” you asked.

She smiled. It lit up the world. “You know what I mean.” She nodded at you. “Nice toga.”

“I’m liking the breeze,” you replied with a smile of your own.

“Yeah? It’s nice, isn’t it?” she teased. You laughed, and she watched you, her features melting and solidifying into a face that was familiar to you. You cleared your throat and looked up at her.

“Sweeney?” you asked.

She shrugged broad shoulders. “Yes and no,” Rose answered with a voice that wasn’t hers. “I’m the goddess of love, remember?” She lifted a hand into the air. “Funny, I never would have guessed this, though. Not in a million years.”

“Which part?” you whispered.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “All of it,” she replied, “None of it. You know, I thought I had a grip on these things, but you keep surprising me.” She smiled. You longed to see that smile on his real face. “Tell him soon, okay?”

“I will,” you promised.

You opened your eyes as easy as a blink, staring ahead into the purple black haze of the dark room. Sweeney snored behind you; a hot arm thrown over your shoulders. You gingerly wrapped both hands around his wrist and frowned.

Was it a warning? A piece of advice? It could’ve been anything – your friends weren’t always so forth-coming in their intentions.

You stared at the room, thinking over everything that had recently happened, watching the darkness become blue, then gray, and a watery white as the sun started to rise. Your phone buzzes with the alarm for your meds, and you squirmed out of Sweeney’s grasp to take them.

You washed your face in the attached bathroom, brushed your teeth, changed into different, cleaner clothes. You woke Sweeney and insisted he stay quiet to not wake anyone else in the house. As you two left, you wrote a thank you note for the parents, and folded up Mitchel’s number for the sisters.

“I hope they get in contact with each other,” you sighed as you followed Sweeney across the large yard. He grunted, yawning, and continued towards the water’s edge. His lit cigarette brunt orange in the faint morning daylight, glinting off a key in his hand. “Sweeney?”

His boots clomped over a rickety pier just out of sight of the house. A boat swayed at the end of it.

“You’re joking,” you called after him. He waved you off without a word. You groaned, looking back up at the house behind you, and followed him. “You’re stealing their boat.”

“Borrowing,” he grunted, placing the cigarette between his lips, “’m borrowing – we’re—” he corrected, looking up at you as he crouched, “We are borrowin’ their boat.”

You crossed your arms. “Do you intend to mosey on back up the river with it when we’re done in New Orleans?” you asked. He climbed into the boat. You looked back at the house again and scrambled after him, pinwheeling your arms to keep your balance in the small craft. “Put out your cigarette,” you wheezed, “Before you blow us up.”

“’m not gonna blow us up!” he argued.

“You have the shittiest luck on either side of the Mississippi, Sweeney, so I’m sorry if I don’t trust you saying that,” you snapped. He sat back, glaring at you, which you returned. When you didn’t budge, he slowly pulled the cigarette from between his lips and flicked it out into the water. You took a deep breath and sat down. “Someone’s gonna get back at you for that,” you mumbled.

“You were so nice yesterday,” Sweeney mused as he sat back, “What happened? Hm?”

“You decided to steal the boat of a family that wanted to help us,” you shot back with a shrug, “And it’s not even theirs! This isn’t even their house!”

Sweeney groaned loud enough to drown out your complaints, twisting around to start the motor. You braced against the sides of the boat as it started down the river, glaring all the while at his smug smirk. You settled in after a while, watching the trees pass along the riverside. “What was that about my luck?” he said as he carefully steered the craft.

“You have shit luck,” you repeated, “The only reason you’re not dying some wildly fiery death is because I’m here and I don’t have shit luck.”

He snorted, shifting on the seat, and absently twisted his warped coin charm around his neck. “Ya know, maybe you made me another lucky coin,” he muttered absently, “Ever think of that?”

You watched him before you spoke. His eyes were trained on the river behind you and he carefully steered down the gentle curves, keeping away from other boats and suspicious shallows. You didn’t answer him for a long time. You balled the sleeves of your denim shirt in your palms and pulled it closer to you, wishing it was just a bit thicker to keep out the cold air coming off the water.

“Maybe I did,” you finally said as the river became more crowded with boats. He hummed as he looked up at you, slowing the boat down and threading it through the crowd to the dock. “Maybe I did make you a lucky coin,” you repeated.

He snorted as he climbed out of the coat. He held out his hand to you. “Bein’ facetious, luv,” he grumbled.

You took it, swinging your bag onto your shoulder as you climbed out. “Big word,” you teased. He tugged you hard against his side. “But really,” you said with a small smile, “Always told you that it was about belief. And I really think those coins were pretty lucky if they stopped a bullet and saved your life.”

“We’ll see,” he mumbled. He squeezed your hand, then led the way out of the marina and into the crowded streets, keeping you close so that the two of you wouldn’t be separated. You eventually found your way to a less crowded area of shops. Sweeney slowed down. “Ya hungry?”

“A bit,” you sighed, “We didn’t really eat anything at the house since someone stole their boat.” You looked up at him.

He rolled his eyes and looked around, tugging you behind him to a food truck on the corner. He huffed, lip curling in a teasing sneer as you pulled out your wallet and paid. He took the food he’d ordered, and yours, and tucked a bottle of beer in the crook of his elbow as he started to walk. You followed him, taking your food with a sigh as you kept pace with him. He stopped at a statue of the Virgin Mary, then smacked the top of his beer against its stone pedestal to pop the metal top off, and chugged half of it.

You watched him, slowly eating your food, leaning against the pillar across from him. “Sweeney?” you asked once he finished his beer.

He buried his face in his elbow as he released an ugly burp. You whistled slowly. “Whut?” he grumbled, taking a large bite of his meal.

“Are you okay?” you asked. You set your food down, worry twisting at your gut, and moved closer to him. “You’ve been a little weird since we got here.”

“Just got here,” he grunted.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” you shot back. You crossed your arms, staring up into his face. He scratched his chin, then down his neck as he watched you in return. “I’ve known you too long for you to pull this shit and not expect me to ask you about it,” you gently said.

He continued to stare, his blunt fingernail scratching at the label on the bottle until it started to peel. He didn’t say anything, though. His eyes grew dark the longer they traced over your face, until, finally, they fell away. He sniffed and looked at the crowd shuffling past you, scratching the growing stubble on his chin again. “Just don’t wanna see ‘em,” he grumbled.

“Hey strangers,” came the call of a familiar voice. Sweeney groaned, dropping his head back with the sound, and turned away while you smiled and spun around.

“What a sight for—” the words shifted in your mouth as you took in Laura Moon’s new, fresh face and glowing skin, “Sore eyes, holy shit Laura.”

She smirked and twirled, holding out her arms. “Guess that old man doesn’t lie, huh?” she said.

Sweeney rolled a hand in the air, tossing the empty bottle behind him. “Then what, pray tell, are ya doin’ here, huh?” he sniped, “What, you figure that the quick ‘n easy don’t last?”

You looked up at him, struggling not to roll your eyes. “Really?” you whispered.

He shrugged. “Just pointin’ out the obvious,” he muttered.

“In a really asshole-ish way,” you replied.

He lowered himself against the pillar, leaning into your space. “Never heard ya complain before,” he murmured.

You narrowed your eyes, arms crossing over your stomach. “I call you an asshole a lot, actually. Pretty sure I use it more than your name,” you argued.

“It ain’t bad enough that it kept ya from kissin’ me though, ain’t it?” he asked with a smirk.

You snapped your mouth shut.

Laura’s voice was far too loud in the crowded street when she shouted, “You what?!” followed quickly by, “Holy fucking shit,” and, “It’s about time!”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, turning to her. “No?”

“Yes!” she countered.

“That’s not the argument here, the argument is how he’s an asshole for getting on your case,” you tried. Behind you, Sweeney started to snicker.

“Uh, no, fuck that, I’m over it,” Laura said with a wave of her hand. She closed the gap between you. “You kissed this sasquatch? Seriously? What, was it against your will, or did you actually want it?” She gasped, her face alight with joy at the first taste of gossip she’d had since she died. It really gave you a glimpse of who she had been before. “Did he tell you that he—”

“Ya here for the Loa, yeah?” Sweeney cut in, coughing on ill swallowed spit.

“That’s not important right now, is it?” she countered, glaring, “Is it really?”

“Course it is,” he replied, pushing away from the pillar. It was your turn to stare at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes as he walked past. “Second longer without my coin is a second too long, Dead Wife. Let’s get this over with.” You followed after him. He tossed the bottle into the nearest trash.

“What crawled up his ass?” Laura grumbled as she walked next to you.

You shrugged. “He’s been like this since we got here. I don’t think he wants to deal with the Loa at all.” You tilted your head, then leaned towards her. “Do you know anything about the Loa? I haven’t read anything, just know what he’s told me.”

“Not a fucking clue except that they can bring me back,” she said.

“Huh,” you sighed.

Sweeney led you both around a corner and stopped in front of a small building. Above the door was a sign that swung in the humid breeze, displaying the black rooster that had started to fade in the sun. He paused at the door, rubbing his neck, then he turned to you both. “Ain’t no backin’ out of this once we start,” he said. He stared at Laura, his face the epitome of sobriety. “You wanna do this?”

She rolled her eyes and yanked the door open. “Let’s just fucking hurry up, I don’t have all day,” she griped.

Sweeney held the door open for you, his arm brushing your shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, “Stay close.”

You nodded and stepped inside.

(Rose frowned as the scene against her eyes shifted, showing you through the eyes of a goddess she’d never met.)

Bridget – lovely and strong – felt her heart lodge in her throat the moment you walked into the Black Cock. She knew the man you walked in with, knew the emotion that made him hold open the door for you, dip his head towards yours, brush your back as you passed him.

Mad Sweeney was in love with you, and you him, if your subtle lean into him was a clue, and he didn’t explain a damn thing about the Baron’s specialty if you have followed him and the woman there.

He was about to break your heart.

She knew all too well that not everyone enjoyed their partner stepping out, but even the ones that didn’t mind it never came with them to ask the favor.

He hadn’t fucking told you.

In the ten seconds it took for your trio to enter the bar, Maman Bridget’s opinion of Sweeney soured. Something must have shifted in her, too, as her husband’s fingers lightly prodded her back in question. She smiled, mirthless, and stepped out from behind the bar.

What a fucking coward.

(And then, there you were)

You watched the red-haired woman move around the end of the bar. She passed Sweeney, sharing a look with him, before she moved through a door you hadn’t noticed before.

(Imaged passed through your mind – piles of stones upon marked graves of women, women standing beneath weeping willows that shielded them from mist and shadow, drums beating against ears; but also, there were doctors in damp fields and poets writing by candlelight and rough handed blacksmiths and farms all framed by an ever-burning flame.)

You sat heavily at the bar. The weight of recognizing a two-faced goddess rested heavily on your shoulders and the back of your neck. You stared absently at a bottle in front of you, barely listening to the sound of Sweeney’s voice as he traded barbs with the man behind the bar. Your vision swam when you finally looked at him.

The man himself was tall, even lounging back against the back bar, with a top hat that made him even taller. He had deep, dark skin with the cool undertone of a clear night radiating from beneath. His bright eyes, while filled with humor, were scanning over your trio with a knowledge you couldn’t place.

The wall behind him melted away when he met your gaze. There was a history behind him, spanning centuries and countries, filled with celebrations and swearing and death and spirits and all framed by a heady smoke that filled your lungs and spilled over your lips on a shaky exhale. When you breathed in, there was life and sex and booze, singing and loud music and a sharp tang of spiced rum on your tongue.

You couched and squeezed your eyes shut to the man’s grin, bracing against the bar as you struggled to regain your composure. Beneath it all, you recognized a gap in your knowledge that ached in your chest and made your heart race. The lack of information made you anxious and it hurt. You refocused on the bar, scooping up a bottle near your fingers, and struggled to listen to the conversation.

“And when she is not around,” purred the Baron, his voice floating through the air, “I fuck a lot of other women.”

You were joining an already complicated conversation, you knew it, and maybe it was nerves clawing at your throat that forced your mouth open to say, “Doesn’t Maman Bridget help women with unfaithful lovers?” The air chilled for a moment, but nothing rang untrue in your skull. You glanced up from the bottle of pepper-infused rum in your hand. “What?” you asked, “I’m not wrong.” You were defensive, yes, your voice sharper than you intended.

The woman, who you knew had left through a door before, was standing next to the Baron behind the bar. She arched an eyebrow and smiled. “I like this one,” she murmured. She released the man and rounded the bar again, almost materializing by your side with her smooth movements. No wonder you hadn’t noticed her return. “I wouldn’t mind keeping you around,” she said, leaning against the bar, “The Baron might even warm up to you.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” you replied, “No offense.”

The Baron laughed – loud and full, a sound that echoed a little harshly in your ears – and leaned towards you. “She’s right,” he murmured, “I like you.”

You smiled. There was an air to him that was familiar, and you voice as much when you said, “You remind me of another friend who owns a bar a lot like this. I think you two would get along.”

He snorted as he leaned back, eyeing Bridget over your shoulder as she slipped behind you. “Maybe you could introduce us,” he replied.

Sweeney sat heavily on the stool next to you, grunting and leaning into your warmth. “How’s about we stop makin’ nice,” he grumbled, “I gotta favor.”

Bridget smiled. “From what I hear, it’s not like you to do favors, Sweeney,” she sighed and your smile grew tighter, “Hasn’t that been your friend’s job?”

You frowned at the way she said ‘friend’. Sweeney huffed, shifting in his seat and leaning away from you.

“The Dead Wife,” he sighed, waving a hand towards Laura on his other side, “Is dead.”

The Baron flicked the rim of his hat up and leaned close, spreading his hands along the bar. “Don’t look dead,” he said. He sniffed, long and loud. “Don’t smell dead, neither.”

“Smells Norse,” Bridget commented with a sigh. She leaned towards Laura and picked up her hair, sniffing it. “A bit Greek? A bit…” Her hand snapped out and slapped the side of Sweeney’s head. He started to protest when Bridget opened her mouth and let loose a violent rant of Gaeilge so fast it didn’t sound like words.

Laura leaned back to share a wide-eyed look with you.

The Baron laughed.

Sweeney hunched his shoulders around his ears as Bridget swore. Her voice dropped as she switched to English, “You lost the Sun’s treasure?!”

Your leprechaun swung a hand towards Laura. “It ain’t lost, it’s in there!”

“It’s not yours anymore, is it?!” Bridget snapped, “Not the Sun’s but some dead woman’s!”

“And she’ll only give it up if she ain’t dead!” Sweeney shouted.

The Baron stood straighter. Bridget’s mouth clicked shut and her eyes glanced past him to you.

“Why we’re here,” Sweeney finished.

“That’s powerful magic,” the Baron murmured, “With a steep cost.”

“We’ll pay,” Laura replied, unknowing.

Sweeney shoved his hands through his hair and leaned on the bar, ducking his head low.

It was quiet for a moment. The Baron and Bridget exchanged looks. Then, Bridget cleared her throat. “Come back at closing,” she answered, “We need time to prepare.”

Sweeney was up and out the door before she finished. You stood to follow, stopped only by the woman’s hand on your arm. Laura lingered at the door.

“You shouldn’t come back,” she said, “It’s not magic involving you.”

You frowned, feeling a calm warmth seep into your skin, but pulled away. “We’ll see,” you replied.

You left.

Laura waited outside, talking about places to stay, and started towards the main road like she knew the area. Sweeney shuffled behind her, and you after him. He didn’t look at you, didn’t slow to walk next to you. He just walked, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets.

The three of you eventually made your way to a small hotel not far from the French Quarter. They had one room left, and the cost left you lightheaded, but you dug the cash out of your bag and paid regardless. Once you were given the keys, you turned to see what Laura and Sweeney wanted to do until it was time to go back, but found Sweeney gone.

Laura shrugged when you asked her where he’d gone. “Dunno,” she said, “Didn’t even see him leave.”

You frowned. “Okay,” you sighed, leaning to see if you spotted him anywhere. “What do you wanna do until he gets back?”

A smile lit up Laura’s face. She led you back outside, and down the street, stopping at every shop between the hotel and the bar. You found ink for Mr. Ibis, an antique set of mortician’s tools for Mr. Jacquel, and a new toy in the shape of a bat for Bas. Laura found a cute dress, which she showed you only after you had left the store, and she changed in an alley. There were other stores, other things purchased or stolen, other smiles shared and memories made.

It was dark soon enough, and the two of you stumbled back to the bar in each other’s arms, laughing like schoolgirls.

Sweeney was already there, waiting, face drawn as he pushed the door open. He didn’t say anything as you walked past him, didn’t even look at you.

Bridget looked away from the Baron with a smile that fell the moment she saw you.

(Coward. What a fucking coward.)

“I told you not to come,” she said, leaning on the bar, “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you asked, confused, a bit incredulous, “They’re my friends.”

Even the Baron looked a bit lost as he watched Sweeney. “Sex magic only calls for two people,” he explained slowly, “That who requested, and that who benefits.” He tilted his head. “And those who cast it.”

“What?” His words rang in your ears. Laura’s hands disappeared from your arm as she said something, then the Baron, then silence. Three sets of eyes burned into your face as a fourth actively avoided looking at you. “What?” you asked again.

“It’s magic,” Bridget said at the confused look in your eye, “Just magic.” It was like she was trying to soothe a burn, but instead of aloe, it was lemon juice.

“Potent magic,” the Baron added. He slid his hand up over her ass. “Only kind that’ll work for this, too.”

Laura whispered your name.

You smiled. You had to – for her, who you’d come all that way for, and for Sweeney, who…

The smile hurt. You’d rather the platitudes from Bridget.

You nodded, glancing around the room. “Yeah, I know,” you said, voice cracking, “Why we’re here.” You cleared your throat. It burned. “I’ll be at the hotel then.” The door thumped against your back as you reached it. Laura had the grace to look away as you fumbled it open and left.

Once outside, the door slipped from your fingers and shut with a heavy thunk. The hot night warmed your clammy skin and sunk into your clothes until you started to sweat.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Just don’t wanna see ‘em.”

“You’re a liar!”

He knew.

(He really was a coward.)

You walked, shouldering through the thick evening crowd as your thoughts wandered away.

Why were you upset? He wasn’t yours, despite all your wants, and thoughts, and wishes. He never was, and, if you were honest, he never would be. You weren’t supposed to be there in the first place, weren’t supposed to be trailing after a man who worked for a god you shouldn’t have met. You were supposed to be home in Cairo. In your bed. Alone.

Fading.

Dying.

Dead.

Your feet shuffled to a stop. People milled past you, unseeing, like you were just something in their way and not a person on the brink of an abyss. You couldn’t tell what you were staring at – a swirl of blurring colors that spanned what must have been the road or the crowd or the buildings, it was all bright and it hurt. Heat spilled down your cheeks and your vision cleared.

A shoulder clipped yours. You stumbled, the rest of the tears rolling down your face, jolting back into your body when you weren’t even aware you’d left it.

“I’m sorry—oh,” a voice thick with a deep southern twang danced in your ears. Warm hands brushed your shoulders. “You alright, darlin’?” Your tears continued. They wouldn’t stop, even as you lifted your eyes from the ground, up past a white collar framed by metal filigree points, and met a warm, brown gaze set into a tanned and tired face. The Preacher’s brow furrowed as he muttered a soft, “Shit.”

You shrugged a shoulder away from him, mumbling something you knew was a lie, but that might’ve also been an apology.

He followed, standing close, staring past you, then turned you around towards a door. You barely heard his voice. You tried to take in more of his features, wondering why he bothered when no one else did – his hair was messy but stood in soft peaks around his head, while the sides were shaved close, and a splatter of dark freckles covered the bridge of his nose. He spoke again, meeting your gaze when he did.

The air trembled around you. Something traced his words out onto the air. You could’ve mistaken the anomaly for a heat wave if it hadn’t been at the end of your nose.

He guided you through the crowd and into a cold bar. You shivered at the sudden change, you sweat suddenly ice on your skin. His hands left you to remove his coat and drape it around you. You watched him roll up his sleeves. Hs pressed a hand between your shoulders and led you to a booth. Two other people were already sitting there, arm against arm.

“Padre?”

“Jesse?”

“Now,” the Preacher – Jesse – motioned you further into the booth, taking up the edge seat when you complied. “This here is Tulip, and Cassidy,” he quietly introduced.

You were pretty sure you gave them your name, but you couldn’t be sure.

“We ain’t here for—” Cassidy’s voice cut off with a yelp.

Tulip adjusted in her seat, shooting the man, Cassidy, next to her a glare. She smiled at you. She was lovely. “You alright, hun? You look down,” she asked. Jesse next to you suddenly jumped, swearing under his breath. “Why don’t you and Cass get us all some beers, yeah?” she politely demanded. She even moved for Cassidy to scramble out of the booth.

You took her in as she shuffled back across the booth seat – her tight brown coils kept the sunglasses sin her hair in place, and her brown eyes were bright as she stared at the men at the bar. She wore lip gloss, and her freckles were just a shade darker than her soft brown skin.

She flashed you another smile, this one not as awkward. “You okay?” she asked again. Her eyes darted over your face. “I mean, you don’t really look okay, but do you wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head. You mulled over her words, adjusting yourself in Jesse’s coat as you struggled to settle back into your skin, forcing yourself into the situation. Out of all the stupid things you could’ve done, you were led into a bar by a stranger, and stuck in the corner seat of a booth.

Though, there were worse things you’d done, too.

And it was a Priest that led you into the bar. Out of all the strangers, that was one that you could, maybe, trust more. And given the weird thing that happened when he spoke, it really reminded you of Anders, and you scrubbed your face with your hands with a groan. Fully covering your face, you dropped your elbows on the table and rambled out everything that had ever happened – from meeting Sweeny in Cairo, to sitting in the bar with her at that moment. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you barely registered Cassidy or Jesse returning sometime towards the early middle of your tale.

Tulip took your hand and wrapped it around a beer, the polite look on her face replaced with a familiar frustration.

“Now, I ain’t one for religion,” she started, quickly rolling her eyes as Jesse cleared his throat. “Wasn’t,” she corrected, “But someone wanted us to meet because I think we are uniquely qualified to help you out right now.”

Cassidy slapped his bottle on the table, leaning in curiously. “Yer man really a leprechaun?” he asked, “Flighty fuckers, ain’t they?”

“I’m sorry?” you laughed, clearing your throat.

“Nah, I’m old, yeah, been everywhere in my hundred years, and I ain’t ever come across a shrewder or fucked fae than a fuckin’ leprechaun,” he answered.

You properly grabbed the beer and had a long drink. “And how—”

“Oh.” Tulip slapped his arm. “Cassidy here is a vampire,” she said casually, then waved a hand at Jesse next to you, “And Jesse has the literal word of God in his chest.”

“Tulip,” he sighed, as though it was a long-worn topic of contention.

The edges of your world became a little more defined the longer you sat with them. “A vampire, a priest, and a woman,” you mumbled, “I’ve been in weirder situations.”

“Yeah, alright,” Cassidy said, waving his hand in a circle over the table as he adjusted in his seat, “Circle back – how the fuck did ya land an invitation to the Oester party?”

“Oester?” Jesse whispered to you.

“Easter,” you clarified.

He nodded slowly and sat back, draining his beer in one long gulp.

“Everyone’s always clamberin’ for that, fuck, even the Oester in fuckin’ Qatar has a hard time gettin’ invited some years!” Cassidy continued.

“There’s more than one?” asked Tulip.

“You also said there were multiple Jessues?” butt in Jesse over her.

“Jesi,” Tulip corrected.

“I think it’s just Jesus, ya know, both plural and singular,” Cassidy mumbled.

“We’re lookin’ for God,” Jesse continued, sighing, “Big G, God. Was he—”

You shook your head. “Sorry, Father. Just Jesus.”

“Jesse,” he insisted.

The conversation continued in a similar vein, you giving them more details, them sharing their story. The table collected a large amount of beer bottles as the hours passed.

Sweeney drank just as much as Bridget danced. It was a dance she’d done numerous times, one that he partook in at least once, one she’d done in front of others who owed favors, who needed magic so desperately that they’d toe the line between death and sex just to taste it. She twisted in time to music that formed on the air. Sweeney’s eyes slipped past her, past the figures that appeared around her, to someone she had yet to see. She threw her head back as old words slipped past her lips, and spotted the figure, the one who clouded the Irishman’s mind as the world grew hazy and the magic grew hot. Bridget was grinning when she turned to him, traced her slim fingers up his thighs, which parted for her.

“And, for a moment, I thought you were hung up on the dead girl,” she crooned against his clothed stomach.

Sweeney snorted.

“But it’s someone else,” she teased. Her lips grazed the skin of his neck. He twisted his head away from her. His knee started to bounce. “Bet you’d be more into it if the Informant were here, kneeling between your knees.” She pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his ear. “Just as eager to take your cock as you are to give it.”

He shrugged her off with a growled, “Shut up.”

She arched an eyebrow as she stood, though that Cheshire stretched further across her face. “C’mon, let’s play pretend, hm?” The room filled with an eerie glow. Sweeney rose from his eat. “You be the burly Irishman.”

“Shuddup.”

“I’ll grant your favor,” she purred, voice lilting as Sweeney stepped closer.

“Shut. Up.”

It wasn’t her voice that said, “Make me,” but she squealed when Sweeney scooped her up and pinned her to the wall, anger and frustration brewing hot in his veins. It wasn’t her he saw when he hiked her skirt up and pulled her legs high around his waist, nor when he tilted her hips up and pushed his cock into her with no preamble.

In the haze, he heard the Baron and Maman Bridget laugh.

As the red settled over his eyes, he slid a hand up the back of the figure on his hips, swinging them around, pinning them to the column behind him. They were tighter than hell on his cock and warmer than the sun against his chest and he felt himself swallow his own name as he kissed a mouth he’d become familiar with.

The fingers in his hair were yours.

The thighs he gripped tight were yours.

The voice that mewled and moaned in his ear as he touched and bit groped the right places was yours.

And while part of him knew it wasn’t you – wasn’t really you taking his cock like you were built for it – the rest of him desperately wished it was, and convinced him to enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

(Laura knew that Sweeney only touched her the way he did was because he imagined it was you, and she desperately wished her imagination was powerful enough to picture the man she kept telling herself she loved, rather than seeing the one she really did.)

Jesse fumbled with the lock to your hotel room for the third time, swearing beneath the din of a party going on down the hall. Cassidy stated that he was sober, that he could open the door, but Tulip hushed him and pointed out that he was carrying you on his back, so he was too occupied to do so. He didn’t argue with her, nor point out that she, too, was drunk.

You cheered when Jesse finally opened the door.

“’ey, I got it,” Cassidy said as he shuffled inside. You were vaguely aware of him ushering Tulip and Jesse away, of him telling them that they needed to get home, and to call a taxi or an Uber.

“You text me!” Tulip halfway shouted around him, waving at you as you were deposited onto the bed.

You flashed her a thumbs up before Jesse pulled the door shut.

Cassidy turned to you, rubbing his neck, and dug through the only bag in the room, mumbling something about getting you a change of clothes.

It gave you a chance to really look at him, really take in his features. He was tall, with hair long enough to stick out in difference directions, and soft brown eyes, and was freckled from his previous days in the sun. His voice was soft as he handed you the clothes and advised you to change. He steadied you, helped you tug off your stubborn shirt and put on your clean one, then sat you on the toilet and grabbed a washcloth.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, surprisingly sober, given how much you drank.

He knelt and started to wipe your face; his brow knitted together at your question. Then, he sat back on his heels, his arms draped on his knees.

“I’m a real right bastard, love—”

You swiftly corrected him with your name.

He lifted his hands, apologized, and continued, “But I ain’t gonna leave someone alone when they’re hurtin’.” He paused, then sighed. “Specially with somethin’ like this.” He gave you a small smile.

“I don’t deserve it,” you whispered, sniffling. You wiped your nose with your hand. Cassidy held out the damp cloth. You took it, chin trembling, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“You don’t,” Cassidy agreed. “Fact, from what y’ said, that Sweeney’s a fuckin’ arsehole and deserves an asskickin’, but that’s from the outside.”

You waved your hands, rolling your eyes. “No, I—” You sniffled against and dabbed your nose with the cloth. “No, I don’t deserve your kindness. I don’t deserve your company, I don’t…” Your voice cracked and dropped to a whisper as you continued, “I don’t deserve to be here. Someone else does. Someone stronger, someone kinder, someone smarter.” You hiccupped and covered your face with the cloth, leaning over your knees.

Cassidy sat on the floor at your feet, folding himself around your legs and the toilet as much as his long limbs would let him. He looped his arms around your back. “That’s the shitty booze talkin’, y’know…” he murmured, sighing gently, “An’ I dunno who you think is better. Yer plenty strong, from the sounds of yer story. Kind, too. Smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He frowned. “You deserve what ya put into the world, and y’ve put a lot of good out there.”

Your sob tore through his chest like a stake.

(Cassidy’s heart broke a bit and stitched back together with a bit of love he carried for you until the day he died.)

“Then why…” you trailed off.

He sighed. “Others just put shit out there, too, and that’s a bit bigger than the good sometimes.”

You scrubbed your eyes with the cloth until they burned, then sat up, wiping your cheeks. He took the washcloth, carefully wiping your nose with the corner.

“Know it ain’t much,” he whispered, “But ‘m glad someone like you’s here.”

“I wanna go home,” you whispered, and he felt it in his gut that you didn’t mean a place.

He sighed. “Me, too,” he said, and in that moment, you knew he didn’t mean a place either, and wondered if Tulip was right about the serendipitous meeting.

Your chin trembled. He helped you up, guided you to the bed, tucked you in, then sat next to you. He flipped the television on. You reached over and flipped it off.

“You’re a vampire,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder, “Tell me a story. Tell me your story. I’ll commit it to memory.”

He snorted. “Why you wanna do somethin’ so silly like that, huh?” he asked.

“Everyone deserves to be remembered,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “And everyone’s important enough to be remembered.”

Your phone buzzed on the blankets. Cassidy scooped it up. He tilted the screen towards you.

“He’s really enjoying fucking that dead flesh,” read a text from your sister, sent over one of the social media apps on your phone.

“That somethin’ she’d say?” Cassidy asked, glancing at the phone, “You said somethin’ about gods and the like, too, when y’ were tellin’ yer shit.”

“Never,” you whispered.

He turned the phone off. “None a that, then,” he mumbled, tossing it somewhere on the bed. He threw an arm around your back. “Get comfortable. It’s a long story.”

“Those are the best,” you yawned.

He spun you a tale of two kids playing at being Freedom Fighters in a land you’d grown familiar with, about how one died in battle, another in the streets.

You drifted off sometime during his re-telling of the 70’s.

Old stone homes crowded the darkness of your sleep, looming over you like specters of a past you didn’t know well. You padded barefoot down cobblestone roads and turned a corner to find your familiar library at the end of one.

“Hello, you,” you whispered as you made your way over, pulling open the clean doors. They creaked and slammed shut behind you. It was dark inside. Not dark enough that you couldn’t see, but the once warm candles were no longer lit, instead being scattered, and broken across the floor. You stepped over them with a frown as you walked in.

Thrown across the main room were books – the floor was covered in pages that were ripped and stained, and shelves were knocked against each other. You knelt to pick up a book and sighed. An ache bloomed behind your eye as sobriety quickly approached.

“Leave.” A voice in the sudden silence made you jump. You dropped the book, rising to your feet. A figure stood beside a tipped over shelf. Its eyes reflected what little light filled the room. You gulped, shifting back as it inched towards you. You scrambled for the door and the bright light beyond it, panic clawing at your throat as the thing ran after you. You pulled the door open.

Its hand smashed the door shut. “You don’t get to run away from this!” it snarled over your startled screech, “You don’t get to just decide it’s over!”

“Stop it!” you screamed. It roared against your back, then fell silent. Its heat surrounded you. You swallowed, turning to see whatever it was that haunted your library.

You stood toe to toe, its bright, knowing eyes watched you. Its chest heaved and its arms trembled. You shivered, backing up against the door. It stepped back.

“Who are you?” you whispered.

It opened its mouth and hundreds of names poured out. You covered your ears as the sound of them echoed in your head, pounding against your skull, everything building until it was undecipherable noise.

Fingers wrapped around yours, cold against your hot skin.

Rose opened her eyes, leaning away from her two lovers to pick up her phone. She’d sent a message hours ago, calling on an acquaintance she hadn’t met in decades, cashing in her one and only favor to him.

Her message was the address of the hotel and your room number, attached to the request, “Take them home. Cairo.”

He’d replied, “Done,” and dropped a pin showing that his phone was at the same location.

She sagged with relief and sat back against the couch.

The man saw the read notification beneath his pin, then slid his phone into his pocket. It was easy for him to pick the lock of your room – old doors, old locks, they were nothing for his deft fingers. Though, he swore when he dropped the lock pick, scooping it up into a wide palm as he checked the door. Satisfied, he swung the door open.

Cassidy looked up from gently prying your hands from your head.

The strange man looked around the room. The television had been unplugged at one point, as had the small clock radio. A cell phone sat on the blankets, turned off. And a vampire was tending to the one Rose had sent him for.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Cassidy grunted, standing tall, making sure he was between you and the stranger. The man laughed harder.

The sound was finally enough to wake you. You pushed yourself up, rubbing your sore eyes, and squinted at the man standing in your room. He tilted his head back, somehow larger than Cassidy was before you. “Rose sent me,” he said, waving a hand, “Here to take you home. To Cairo. Let’s go.”

Cassidy glanced over his shoulder at you. You swung your feet off the bed, shrugging, still half asleep and not quite sober as you groggily responded, “Take me home.”

“Y’sure?” whispered Cassidy.

You looked up at him, smiled, and nodded. “I’m sure.” Then, you pointed at your bag. “Give me your number. I’ll update you. And stay here, at least until nighttime. The room’s paid for.”

He hesitated, and gave the man another wary look, but did as he was told with a shrug. He eventually turned back to the man again. “Wait, who’re you?”

The strange man grinned, his laughter finally subsiding. “Call me Iartaithe,” he answered with a wink, “It’s a name.”

“Okay, but why’re you laughin’?” Cassidy asked as he grabbed your bag. He fished for the pen you pointed towards, glancing over when you saw you rubbing your eyes again.

“Just absurd,” Iartaithe replied, “Whole thing. Absolutely fucking absurd.”

“Yeah,” you muttered as you stretched your arms above your head, “Tell me about it.” You waited as Cassidy scribbled down his number, then stretched to grab your phone and turn it back on. You looked up at him. “Can you tell Sweeney where I’m going?”

“I can tell ‘im to fuck right off,” Cassidy replied. You smiled. “Guess I can,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” you said, “He’ll worry.” Then, you frowned, wondering if he’d show back up at all, and remembered that, despite what you wanted from him, he really was still your friend. He’d show up. And he’d worry. But you also knew that you couldn’t stay there anymore, especially alone. You appreciated Cassidy’s company, but you knew he couldn’t stay. You needed to go home. You needed to see Bast again. “Thank you,” you repeated, looking up at Cassidy, “Really.”

He flopped onto the bed with a loud sigh, tapping your phone with his finger. “You better fuckin’ message, or I’m comin’ to find you instead,” he threatened, “Fuck God. He can wait another fuckin’ day.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, yawning, and stood, scooping your bag off the floor. “Promise,” you swore.

Iarlaithe leaned back against the door, and stepped out into the hall when you followed. You gave Cassidy one last glance, waved when he did, and shut the door on him and everything that New Orleans had brought you.

~*~Thanks for Reading~*~ ~*~Tag List~*~

@hannon-say || @divadinag || @superflannel || @jinxy-toast || @the-bluest-hour || @karmabites2313 || @siedrkona1991 || @hstott || @lakeli || @massivecolorspygiant || @leximus98 || @weirdo125 || @fleeingdawn-blog1 || @madamecoyote || @postgradandstupid || @hopplessdreamer || @ceyruh || @animatenebrae || @ultrablackwidower || @callmemaeverick || @loisbaggings || @fictional-hooman || @babypink224221 || @quietwitchworld || @mags-writes || @sunshine-gumdrop || @theonlylolland

#the invasion series #american gods #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x reader #pablo schreiber

101 notes · View notes

danmainacc · 2 years

Text

FIRST SIGHT

Raph saves you from Meats Sweats and, quite literally, falls head over heels. ( header credit to qoeww )

Character: Raphael

Writing - type: One-shot

Warnings: fluff, kidnapping, a little bit of angst ( you know I can’t write without it ), meat sweats wants to eat you

Author’s note: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I really wanted to wait until tumblr released me from my shadow-ban prison, but alas, I am still here ( 10 support tickets later ). I hope you guys enjoy !! Lemme know what you think. And know that I see every comment, even if I can no longer reply 🥹

…

A soft sigh left your lips as you looked out into the sky, the moon’s pale face standing out in front of the navy blue night.

This area of New York was an anomaly. Despite it’s close proximity to NYC, it almost never saw the effects of light pollution, the stars just as visible as they would be in the country.

You found this place not too long ago, about maybe a year or so. You had first moved and you decided to explore, to take your mind off the sudden change.

One thing led to another, and now you’re here more than your own house.

Another sigh managed to slip as you rested your cheek in your palm, the moon’s expression almost mirroring your sadness.

‘This is so stupid.’

You scoffed at yourself, scolding the growing lump in your throat into nonexistence.

‘A year in this stupid town, and not a single friend.’

Some could say that when you tried to make friends, you came off...strong...and loud.

But that’s just how you were raised. That’s how you’ve been your whole life.

Back home...real home...you were a hit.

Your friends liked you, your family liked you, hell, even the people that didn’t like you, liked you.

You were funny, sarcastic, a little clumsy, out-going, happy.

But shit happens.

Jobs run thin, and next thing you know you’re on a one-way flight to the other side of the country, no friends in sight.

You shook yourself out of it as you felt something wet rolling down the apples of your cheeks, the feeling almost foreign.

You placed a hand on your face, pulling it back to see that, yes, you were crying.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disappointment as your cheek returned to your palm, the tears now flowing.

‘Pathetic.’

Sighing, you took out your phone, checking the time to see that it was way past your curfew.

Yet not a single text from Dad.

You groaned, standing up from your spot on the ledge and hooking your ankles onto the nearest gutter, clinging onto it and sliding down like a fire-pole.

When you landed, you came face to face with your usual alley.

Now, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to take a dark alley home every night, but it cut the normal walking time in half. And if you walked fast enough, you could surely be home before anyone noticed you were there.

Letting go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you started on your way, keeping your pace at a power walk.

Though for some reason, the alley seemed different. There was a eerie, almost non-human, feeling to it.

The lights were flickering more than usual, the air was filled with the smell of food, and at times, you could’ve sworn you heard a pig snort.

‘You’re goin’ crazy.’

Just then, you noticed a large shadow that sat not too far in front of you.

It was in the shape of a food truck.

A food truck that wasn’t there two seconds go.

‘Nope.’

Now breaking into a sprint, you tried your best to get past it, seeing as the vehicle was blocking the only exit.

But just as you made it past, something grabbed you by your backpack, harshly pulling you back and holding you up.

“Well, well, well. What ‘ave we got here?” the person creepily smirked, licking his lips.

You couldn’t make out his face in the darkness, but you could make was his overwhelming scent of dirty pig.

“A teenage girl. Nice and plump in all the right places.”

He creepily poked at your hips and stomach, the touch making you retreat into yourself, trying to get away.

“I’d say you’d make a good chili.”

Your heart came to a screeching halt at those words, all the air in the world seeming to disappear.

‘Did he just say...I’d make a good chili?!’

And just as you were about to scream, the man hit you upside the head with the butt of his meat tenderizer.

...

You woke up to see that you were tied up in butcher’s twine, resting on top of a surprisingly large cutting board.

Suddenly, you remembered the words of the man just before you blacked out.

‘I gotta get out of here!’

Lifting your head, you saw him standing next to a very large pot, bringing what looked to be stock to a nice boil.

And not only that, but he was apparently a pig-man-hybrid-thing.

‘Don’t even wanna know.’

Hearing something clink behind you, you realized that the pig man left his knife on the cutting board with you.

You grabbed it, shaving down your ropes until you came loose, and then tucking it into your bomber jacket for save keeping.

Quietly standing up, you tiptoed off the cutting board, taking a step onto the food truck floor, only for it to make the loudest creak the world has ever heard.

“For fuck’s sake!” you groaned, making a run for the door.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the pig man shouted, tossing a butcher’s knife at you.

It landed in the door and stopped you from reaching for the handle, letting him grab you and hoist you up once more, as if you were nothing.

“Whetha you lioke it or not, I’m turning you into chili. And there ain’t nobody around to save ya.”

The realization of your situation finally sunk in.

You were trapped in this pig-man’s food truck of horrors, and were about to be made into a chili for him to eat.

No one knew where you were, or where to find you. And there would probably be no evidence left, since you’d be halfway through his digestive track before morning.

You let out a blood-curdling wail of anguish, shocking the hybrid man.

The wail slowly turned into a sob, no doubt getting the attention of those in nearby apartments.

“Quiet, you!” he shouted, punching you in the face and letting you drop to the floor.

Your head throbbed so hard it was practically audible, and you wanted nothing more in this moment than to be absorbed into the ground and dropped into the safety of your room.

“Now, I gotta get to chopping before this stock boils over,” the pig man smirked.

And just as he was about to grab you, a large, green figure burst through the wall of the truck, knocking the pig-man out the door.

“You stay away from her--.” Raph’s breath hitched as his eyes landed on you, one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, sitting on the ground.

His heart banged aggressively against his plastron, and despite his cold blood, he felt warm all over.

He couldn’t place his finger on what it was about you. Your hair, your soft eyes, *cough* *cough* your shorts.

But what he knew for sure was that he had to save you.

Yet that rendered him unable to save himself when she tripped over his own feet.

He fell flat on his face, shaking the foundation of the truck.

Now for you....to say you were shocked, would be an understatement.

You just found out today that pig-hybrids and turtle men exist, and one was laying on the floor not too far in front of you.

But he saved you from the creepy guy, so the least you could do was check to see if he was alright.

“Hey,” you chimed, slowly approaching and giving him a soft poke on his shoulder.

“Are you okay? That was a really hard fall.”

Little did you know that the turtle next to you was as giddy as a schoolboy.

You touched him! And not only that, but you talked to him.

Your voice was so soft and silky, yet firm it its tone. God, he could listen to you talk for hours.

“Hello?” you asked, wondering if he fell unconscious.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, jumping back up and startling you. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m a little clumsy.”

He warmly smiled, making something in your stomach flutter.

“It’s alright,” you assured, standing up.

“This might sound cheesy, but I’m kinda here to save you,” he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled back at him, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “That’s great, cause I am in desperate need of saving.”

He chuckled as well, taking a step closer to you and holding out his arms.

“May I?” he asked politely.

You nodded, him scooping you up in his arms and jumping out the hole he first came in through.

And now that you had time to truly rest, you took the oppurtunity, resting your head on the man’s plastron as you fought to keep your eyes open.

You don’t know why you were trusting this man so easily. There was something about him that just made him so comforting.

As your eyes fluttered shut, Raph had to use all his self-control to keep himself from swooning.

Even asleep, with hair disheveled and a slightly bloody nose, you still looked goregous.

And the fact that he was able to be so infatuated, so enamored with you from first glance, was startng to scare him.

But scary or no, he had to face the facts:

He fell for you. And hard.

...

#rottmnt #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raph x reader

169 notes · View notes

notinthislife50 · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2 - The First Mission

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

At the start, every time soldiers came to take you on a mission you fought them. You would knock a few out or you leave broken bones. Sometimes other assets tried to intervene but ended up getting injured in the process, And the end result was always the same. You strapped to a chair and tortured. It was now at a point where when you were called on a mission, an alarm would sound in whatever room you were in and if there were people in that room they would have to line up against the wall. Leaving you in the middle of the room. The instructions were clear once the alarm was set you were to lie on your stomach with your hands behind your head. Once all the soldiers had entered and all weapons were on you. You were then forced to stand and escorted out of the room. When you finally managed to go on your first mission. Of course with Rumlow... sigh. You had to try and retrieve some case from some guy. You really couldn't care less. What you cared about was you and Rumlow had to act like a couple which of course for him meant he could touch you. As you both entered the ballroom you stopped in your tracks. "Not as beautiful as you "Rumlow whispered right in your ear. "It's not the room I'm in awe by " you scowled at him "I think I'm a bit overwhelmed by actually being outside for the first time in 2 years" you hissed storming over to the bar. "Follow her ' the voice from Rumlows hear piece commanded "Y/n stay with Rumlow " your earpiece commanded. You rolled your eyes as you got the barman’s attention. "Tequila double neat please " Rumlow approached you and slid his arm around your waist. "Darling you shouldn't walk off like that" and he kissed your temple. "Look jerk I told you I'm not interested, please leave me alone." You turned your back to him. " Hey," Rumlow shouted grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him. "What the fuck are you doing?" "Hey" a voice shouted from beside you both, "I think the lady said to leave her alone" "Look buddy this has nothing to do with you" Rumlow hissed not even looking at the man. "I think it has everything to do with me," the man said sternly grabbing Rumlow by the shoulder. As Rumlow turned round to knock the man out his face paled and he stopped. "Yes my friend, it has everything to do with me" the man smiled at Rumlow. "Well sir" Rumlow stuttered. "Step down Rumlow, step away from the target" the earpiece stated. Rumlow nodded at the man and walked off. "You better not fuck this up," your earpiece said. "I said are you okay Miss?" the target asked again. "I'm sorry just a bit shaken up. Thank you for coming to my rescue though" You smiled at Mr. Gaines. "Are you here with anyone? " Mr. Gaines asked. "I was meant to be " you sighed forcing yourself to tear up. Hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. "May I buy you a drink Miss?" Gaines said extending his hand. "Chloe" you smiled taking his hand "and that’s the best idea I've heard all night Mr.?" "Micky please " he insisted. "And tonight you are with me, any man would be crazy to stand you up. So no more tears" "No more tears' you promised. After an hour and a few more drinks your earpiece boomed making you jump, you had forgotten all about it. "We need the briefcase Y/l/n." Again you rolled your eyes and took the earpiece out throwing it in your bag. Even though the earpiece was gone you knew there were still eyes. You and Micky spent the next few hours drinking laughing and dancing. Even though it was a mission it was the most fun you had in years. "Well my dear would you like to take this party to a more private area. I have a room upstairs with the most amazing view of the city " he asked. "I would love to" you laughed. When you entered the room you couldn't help but gasp, the view over the city was amazing. As you stood on the balcony with the wind in your face you closed your eyes. It had been so long since you felt it. Your eyes shot open when you felt a kiss planted on your shoulder "Champagne" The target stated handing you a glass. "Thank you, it really is beautiful " you whispered looking out. "Not as much as you" he complimented. You laughed and said "You really are a charmer. I bet you say that to all the girls." "Only the most beautiful ones" he winked at you. You shyly smiled back but shivered. "Stay right there," he said handing you his glass let me get you a coat." He returned and placed his coat over your shoulders and took his glass back. You thanked him and you both started slipping on your champagne. When he came with two more glasses. You laughed "Trying to get me drunk Mr. Gaines. Your already my Knight in shining armor so I'm already planning on repaying you." You bit your lip and placed your hand on his chest and kissed him. As he deepened the kiss he took both your glasses and set them on the table. "No need in wasting time then" he took your hand and all but dragged you to the bedroom. As you kissed him again you pushed him onto the bed. "Feisty, I like it " he smirked. As you tried not to be sick you slowly slid your dress off leaving you in your underwear. The Target slid himself up the bed so he was resting on the pillows. You straddled him and started to kiss him again as you kissed his neck he moaned. When you nibbled on his ear no sound came from him. You did it again, nothing. As you sat up you stared at the sleeping man in front of you "Some men just can't hold their sleeping pills." You laughed to yourself. You then put your earpiece back in and turned it on. When you spoke a lot of different voices started to curse you out. "Okay relax the target is asleep. I slipped him the pill when he was away. Now I'm looking for the briefcase." you barked back. When someone was in the middle of ripping you a new one you found the briefcase in a hidden drawer. "Got it' you confirmed cutting off the voice. "Two men outside the door," the voice said again. You made sure your makeup was smudged you lowered one of the straps on your dress and didn't even bother putting your shoes on. You hid the briefcase under the jacket Gaines had given you and stumbled out the door. "Oops" you giggled and straightened yourself and swayed a bit. When you looked at the two bodyguards you cocked your head and pointed. "Have you two been here the whole time?" But they didn't answer "Shame would have loved to be the filling in that triple-decker. Your boss has my number maybe next time we could all partake. " You winked and stumbled into the elevator. When in the elevator you straightened up but you didn't put the jacket or your shoes on. When you got off Rumlow, He and a few others were waiting for you. "That was a dangerous stunt Y/l/n you pull that shit again ill make sure your under for every mission" "Alright relax here's your stupid case" you sighed shoving it into his chest. "Where the fuck is the toilet?" When someone pointed it out you marched over throwing the coat and shoes also into Rumlows chest. "Hold these" you ordered. "You’re not the boss around here" he called after you. "Yea and you remind us all of it" you shouted back. While in the bathroom you noticed the window. You shimmied out of it. Could you finally make your escape? After 15 mins Rumlow commanded someone go in and when they’d realised you weren't there, full panic mood was activated. There was one person though who didn't panic and that was Pierce. "It's okay Rumlow consider this part of her training it will help with her stealth.” You managed two days. Then when you were out trying to find food you heard the beginning of those 9 words. "Ready to comply" you stated standing still. "Welcome back little mouse " Pierce grinned.

And so began you your cat-and-mouse chase with Hydra.

#Winter Soldier #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soilder smut #bucky barnes smut #hydra x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel y/n

84 notes · View notes

lonesome-witching · 1 year

Text

The World May Be Ending

@allnewtpir asked for season 4 with established ronance and I tried to deliver. This might be a bit shorter than I wanted it to be but this is just something to tide you guys over until I have time to write longer stuff.

You can still send me prompts even if it's taking longer to finish them. Or you can read previous prompts.

Robin hated herself for not being with Nancy when Fred died. Of course she couldn’t have known, but she should have been there. After everything that had happened last summer they promised each other to never part ways. But then peace returned and real life picked up again and stuff got in the way.

Despite Robin’s interest in the school’s newspaper and especially the new editor, she couldn’t focus on the dreadful Hawkins news for long enough. And Nancy might have loved watching movies with Robin every Saturday night, it didn’t mean she wanted a job in Family Video. So, they had their time apart and it had been fine. Until Nancy found Fred Benson laying on the pavement, broken bones and all.

The second Robin had seen Nancy’s grief stricken face, she had felt her heart break. And she had hated herself for not being there. So, she was not about to let Nancy wander off alone.

“Nance, where are you going?” Robin shouted, walking over to her girlfriend. Steve was frowning behind her.

“There is just something I want to check on first.” She pointed at her car. “I don’t want to waste your time, it’s a real shot in the dark.”

“You want to leave? Alone?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Nancy sighed, her eyes looking anywhere but at her girlfriend.

“Okay, no. Steve’s got the kids, right? I’ll go with you.” Robin was already closing the distance between them.

“Hey, we’re not kids,” Dustin protested.

Robin just grinned before turning around and walking towards Nancy’s car.

—-

“Elvis cloned by aliens,” Nancy sighed.

“You never know,” Robin replied softly. She noticed the way Nancy’s muscles were tensed up, the way there was a permanent frown on her face, the way she paced the room. “You know I’m taking this seriously, right?”

Nancy turned around, walking away.

“And you know you can talk to me, right?” Robin added, the article in front of her forgotten. She got up from her seat, following her girlfriend’s previous movements and walking towards the girl’s back. “The world may be ending or some shit but I’m still here to hold your hand. I’ll always be here, Nance.” Hesitantly she placed her hands on Nancy’s shoulders, instantly feeling the girl lean into the touch.

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

Robin’s hand slid down Nancy’s arms, softly touching the girl’s fingers before snaking her arms around Nancy’s waist and pulling her closer.

“You don’t have to say anything at all. Just know that I’m here if you do want to talk. I might be excellent at rambling but I’m also a decent listener.”

Nancy’s hands went to cover her own. “Thank you for being here.”

“I’m always going to be here, Nance. You’re not going to get rid of me anymore.”

—-

“Nancy, please tell me you were kidding.” Robin grimaced at the outfit that now lay on Nancy’s comforter.

“I’m sorry, Robin. You’re gonna have to put my clothes on.” Nancy was smiling as she dove back into her closet to pick out something for herself.

Robin groaned as she hesitantly picked up the pink blouse. She allowed her fingers to feel the fabric and groaned again. It wasn’t that she disliked the blouse, she was sure Nancy would look adorable in it, but she didn’t want to wear it herself.

She turned around to complain once again just to see Nancy pull her shirt off. Robin’s eyes took in Nancy’s pale skin. The black straps of her bra created a stark contrast.

“I’m not wearing a bra.” The realization dawned on her as she stared at the clasp of Nancy’s underwear.

Nancy turned around, her shirt still in hand, her chest barely covered, and Robin briefly wished Nancy hadn’t been wearing a bra. Even with the garment on Robin could recollect what Nancy’s breasts looked like but right now it was barely enough.

“What?” Nancy asked, a distant expression on her face.

“I’m not wearing a bra and the blouse you gave me… well, I don’t think it’ll leave much to the imagination.”

Nancy hummed, taking a step toward Robin. “You’re not wearing a bra?” She shook her head as if ridding herself of a troubling thought.

“No.”

Nancy straddled Robin’s lap. “You’ll have to wear one of mine then.”

Robin simply hummed, not fully registering the words as Nancy leaned in to peck her lips. Robin sighed softly as their lips connected. The blouse slipped through her fingers as her hands found something much better to hold.

She was already reaching for the clasp of Nancy’s bra when the girl pulled back. “I have a white one that might just fit.”

#prompts #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my work #stranger things #fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronance fic #ficlet

25 notes · View notes

shadowphatom22 · 2 years

Text

Walker and his adopted half son Chapter 1

Again I am sorry that the first chapter got delated :(

Hello everyone, I hope you are having a fantastic day today I am super happy to say that the first chapter of my story that I have written is done and it is my first one I am super excited yet nervous!

*IMPORTANT TO READ DO NOT SKIP IF YOU DO THEN SHAME ON YOU*

Naturally I do not own Danny Phantom which belongs to Butch Hartman. (Note if you have not seen the show I Highly recommend you see it before reading this if you are a newbie or you will not fully understand).

I was given the OK from @five-rivers to use this AU and turned it into the story that I am posting and I hope you all like it.

Lastly, I have been using different stores as my teacher, and I do not know all of them, I want to give a big shot out to you guys because without this story might not even happen. one of the authors is @halfghostwriter, and there are so many more on here, fanfation.net, AO3, in other words, thank you.

I would love feedback however, I will not be happy if there is rude comments, I believe in you guys!

Rate T - M (Have not fully decided on the rate yet)

Now let’s start this story, shall we?

Walker and his adopted halfa son

Chapter 1) Danny having ghost problem again?

No point of View

When ghosts are born there are different types, true ghosts are born in the ghost zone, then there is the undead ghost, which is after the life of a human is done and come to the ghost zone they are called an undead ghost. During this time both types of ghosts take months to stabilize and start forming, and they start as blobs with different lengths of tails and different shades of green depending on how evil or good they are dark being evil and cruel light green being good, and kind however the action of an infant ghost can affect the color of their skin, in other words, if they did something bad, then their skin slowly turns darker green and it works both ways too and for their eyes are the color of their core, and when they start growing into whatever form they see fit or who they look up to.

Unfortunately, that can be slightly hard for Danny however he does not know about this and it is a bit of a learning moment when it happens, luckily his not going through it alone, he has Sam, and tucker who have been there right from the start and helping him physically, and his sister Jazz who found out due to help of the psych bitch and her henchman, since then she has been helping him mentally, which is a good thing because his human has physically grown normally however mentally it some time goes on the same level as his ghost form, and it has slowly been happening more and more often, which of course is showing a red flag between Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, unfortunately, they don’t know what to do and they just think it is a ghost thing given that Danny is half ghost and half-human, so ghost habits and behaviors is a whole new thing for the four them, not to mention trying to make sure Danny, and Jazz’s parents do not find out, along with keeping the crazy fruiteloop away from them, and along with going to school so it can be really packed when redom ghost pop up out of the blue and like to give them hell and destore places, ever sense he got his powers.

One day Danny is in the ghost zone exploring the zone and trying to make a map because getting lost is not fun he looks at the time on his watch, reads the time of 8:00 pm, and decided to head home so he does not miss his 10:00 pm curfew. On his way to the portal to home, he spots Walker’s goons, and the best course of action is to void them because he is tried and he needs food, along with doing his homework for school Danny went in a different way, that leads to the portal while voiding walker’s goons naturally it falls and they spotted him, and start attacking him to bring him in while Danny keeps putting up shield after shield, something happens to Danny that both of Walker’s goons paled and become speechless.

See what happens next!

???? Goon 1: YOU’RE A BABY????

???? Goon 2: ……….. ( still in shock)

Danny: …… (looks confused while trying to look mad)

#danny phantom

45 notes · View notes

amostfoolishgold · 1 year

Text

Lazuli doesn't carry weapons. Any time she's asked, she has an excuse ready to go. Fighting isn't allowed on the faction isles, she can't aim to save her life, a sword would ruin this outfit, isn't that what I keep you around for darling? But this is the truth of the matter:

The man says something. Lazuli barely even hears the actual words. Something about the points of her ears and her mother maybe. What she hears is the derision lacing it. She doesn't even really register what she's doing until he's pinned to the wall by her hand at his neck. She flexes her hand, makes sure he feels the press of claws. He goes gratifyingly pale when he tries to push away from the wall and finds her grip unyielding.

"I am going to give you one chance to reconsider that statement or, well, it has been a while since I last ate properly."

She could lure him. Coat her words in siren magic and force him to agree, but that's hardly effective long term and (more importantly) she doesn't want this to be easy for him. He nods quite frantically.

"I didn't mean- it was stupid, a stupid joke it won't- it won't happen again I swear!"

Lazuli smiles, a shark's smile with all those sharp teeth on display.

"Good lad. See that it doesn't."

She loosens the grip on his neck. Before he can really move, she slashes her other hand across his stomach. Not deep, he'll be fine as long as the doctors here are half decent, but he still screams and there's still a satisfying spray of blood. There's a handful of startled sounds around the tavern and the distinct sound of many hands reaching for various weapons. Lazuli pokes the man with her foot where he's crumpled over to clutch at his stomach.

"Call that a reminder."

She peers at the embroidery on his coat and the emblem pinned to it.

"Any Kestrels want to make sure your guy here doesn't bleed out?"

There's a moment of absolute stillness before a pair of Kestrels begrudgingly abandon their drinks and drag the guy to his feet. Lazuli gives them her most charming smile and layers just the tiniest bit of magic into her voice. Just enough to smooth some feathers.

"Thanks, he should be fine, just get him to a doctor."

She turns back to the table she had been perfectly happy sitting at and gives her companions an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that, what were we talking about?"

She licks the blood off her hand while being openly stared at, and she really might have to reconsider the whole not killing humans anymore thing because wow she'd forgotten how they taste.

"...can't you get kicked out for fighting on the faction isles?"

Finneas looks a little green as he speaks. Lazuli shrugs.

"I'd hardly call that a fight." That earns her a little chirp of a laugh from Neb, but a Look from Joanna. "Besides, I'd like to see them try and get rid of me. I've got some bad news for them if they try and make me walk the plank." She pauses. "And if I can't talk myself out from in front of a gun then frankly I deserve to get shot. Anyway! Jo, you said something about meteors?"

Joanna's face does something complicated, but eventually settles into a flush and she sighs.

"Alright, so-"

---

Blatantly yoinking ocs for this one lmao. Joanna belongs to @pacificwaternymph, Neb to @solsearchingnights, and Finneas to @finnified (unnamed bastard also belongs to finn because I was picturing Dante, I just couldn't really figure out a way to. State that that's who he is lmao)

I do have uh. Nicer snippets partially written but I realised I hadn't given Lazuli a weapon and then the image of her ripping some guys throat out with her teeth wouldn't leave me alone but I figured that was a bit much for a chill night out y'know?

#my writing #lazuli the heron #joanna the nightingale #finneas the kite #drake the kestrel #piratesona #pirates smp #scurvyblr

11 notes · View notes

llycaons · 11 months

Text

ep49 (1/3): a shocking numbers of fans watched this scene where jgy cried a lot and fully swallowed his excuses. guys. guys.

oh wwx is annoyed as hell that jgy is dodging responsibility for everything he's done when he, wwx, never once denied his actions and bore the full weight of them and then some

more evidence for my 'jgy actively encourages lxc's crush even though he has no intention of ever reciprocating because it grants him power over him' hc!!!!!

oh jeex lxc looks like shit. I mean I guess he's had a rough couple of days. look at those eyes bags

lxc: I'm not your sworn brother anymore. jgy (realizing he's losing his grip on lxc): NOOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭

okay to be fair I'm sure there is some genuine grief for losing the friendship and camaraderie of the one person who has always vouched for him, saved his life, supported him, etc. lxc was a wonderful friend and a powerful, steadfast ally. wasted on jgy!

you can practically see the forehead vein popping here. I don't think an lxc who fully understands jgy would ever love him. if xiyao is happening in some fic, either jgy is lying or someone's being mischaracterized. not that social factors didn't play a role in the things jgy did, but if you ignore his sadistic and vengeful nature, his willingness to murder innocent people, his unrepentant manipulation and deceptive nature, you're losing a lot of his character. for him to be someone who doesn't hurt others, he'd have to be someone guaranteed safety and respect and a position from birth. but that's so antithetical to his role in canon it wouldn't be the same person anyway

huh. why hasn't jgy tried to harras lwj more? I guess he got what he wanted and beyond lwj sealing himself, there's not much a reaction jgy can provoke

WELL. pretty clear choices here. jgy you could have packed up and fled the country before trying to kill a bunch of people and kidnapping children

lxc: why were you so cruel and murderous??? dude?? jgy: I HAD NO CHOICE BRO 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you believe me right??? would it help if I did this 😭😭😭😭

compared to wwx's impassioned, rational, fair defenses of himself and the people he was trying to protect, this is so pathetic. wwx never denied what he did, never dodged responsibility. when he said he had no other choices, it was in defense of innocent people at risk of political persecution and mass murder, not in defense of killing people to maintain his own position, he apologized for the death of jxz and suffered his own death in retribution for even the best things he did

YOU COULD HAVE LEFT!!!! or idk, face up to the consequences of your actions

I am so so sorry to bring the marvel 'cinematic' universe into our beautiful liveblog today but this shot just screamed "Tony, you CHOSE to do that' to me

of course he ~nobly~ doesn't deny it ONCE IT'S ALREADY COME TO LIGHT. but he denied up until the breaking point because he's a slippery eel and it's impossible to get him to face any consequences for his actions!!! if I was lxc I would be exasperated to death too

NEAT FRAMING

ohhh this flashback is so skin-crawling. I really love how deathly pale the robes and jgy's face are. the red of the wedding robes and the decorations are so ominous and omnipresent, like something horrifying about to happen, like something inescapable. the music really adds to the eeriness of the scene

it always hurt so bad that qs was so excited for her wedding night. she was happy! she liked jgy a lot and always respected him and his mother! she was a good and kind and innocent person and she had no IDEA god I feel sick I hate him so much

jgy really never spared a single thought to qs's well-being. it was all about him, and his horror, and his choices, and his position, and the injustices enacted on him. self-centered to the very end. of course he didn't think he had a choice. he would never choose against his own self-interest no matter how many people he hurt. god, qin su should have lived. her suicide was such bullshit

oh my god SUCH bullshit. 'uwu but I worked so hard!' okay yeah I get it's a precarious political situation and the issue isn't even your fault but DUDE. you're placing your own power and ambition higher in importance than this woman's entire life. and you MUST have known you would have murdered any child you two had.

pretty sucky situation all around. shocking idea though. YOU COULD HAVE TOLD QIN SU

jgy truly goes through life as if it was a me-or-them battle for survival in every single situation. in his mind, whoever bore the burden here would be the one destroyed, and he never would choose his own destruction. and it does make sense based on his environment and upbringing. god, he's such a good villain. none of this at all excuses his actions ofc, but it's an extremely compelling and powerful motivator for a villain hell-bent on surviving, viewing every situation as battle to the death, and fully buying into being viewed as the victim of every scenario

another contrast to wwx! wwx hates being seen as someone who was hurt. he dislikes being viewed as weak or vulnerable in any way by his enemies (and often his allies), and the way he wins battle and arguments is though either his power or his own honesty. for someone who omits key information and lowkey manipulates many of his loved ones, his straightforward arguments are more often than not the complete truth

in case we needed a reminder of his active sadism at work. who gaf about his dad but those poor women were treated as murder weapons and then mass murdered themselves

oh I do not like this slap scene, and I'm glad lxc is horrified by it as well. the exposure of jgy's crimes has never retroactively justified the classism and oppression he fought against, nor does it grant permission to his social superiors to treat him like they're inherently better than him, such as with this slap

#cql re-rewatch #not to brag but this one is juicy

4 notes · View notes

theoriginaltortuga · 2 years

Text

Things Unsaid at 2 am

A/N: My first It Lives fic. What happened when Devon woke up the morning of ch. 18, or one version anyway

Pairings: Lucas x Male!MC (Devon) but barely mentioned

The dark surrounded him. It wanted him back. It wanted to trap him in the woods forever. Devon tried to run but he couldn’t move. He tried to scream but he couldn’t get any air. He could feel it envelop him, unraveling him back into shadow.

He launched himself forward out of heavy blankets. He needed to get away, needed to run–

Warm hands wrapped around his arms, keeping him still.

“No!” Devon tried to thrash away, but his energy was gone.

“Devon, it’s okay! You’re safe, I promise.” Noah’s voice broke the remnants of the dream, leaving Devon gasping and crashing down from a terror high.

Noah was the only real thing in the pitch black room. His pale features were the only evidence Devon was out of the dream. His breath and his touch were grounding. It made his skin crawl.

“Let…go.”

Noah snatched his hands back as though Devon had burned him. “Sorry.”

They sat silently in the dark. Regret tried to fill Devon’s chest, but he didn’t let it. Noah had murdered him. He could deal with some hurt feelings. Devon looked away from him, twisting and untwisting his hands in the itchy flannel sheets.

Devon had been fidgety before he’d died. Always fiddling with his jewelry at school, then his guitar picks or anything else he could get his hands on at home. He wondered if his parents had kept any of his things. His dad had hated his guitar and his posters and his jewelry. Maybe they’d thrown everything out.

Devon glanced back up at Noah, who was sat in the chair beside the bed, watching the windows, his jaw clenched. Ok, maybe he did feel bad about hurting Noah’s feelings. Murderer or no, Noah was still the guy who’d dedicated weeks, months, or longer trying to bring him back. Didn’t that count for something?

“Could–can you help me up?”

Noah almost shot to his feet. “Sure, yeah. Where do you want to go?”

Devon flailed a hand at the chair. “Switch?”

Noah transferred him over easily, which was odd. He couldn’t have grown that much muscle in…however long Devon had been gone. Maybe being resurrected had shaved off a few pounds. That had to be it.

Noah sat perched on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not fucking really. “No.”

Noah nodded. “I can get Lucas for you, if you want.”

Lucas had been gently banished to the couch after almost falling asleep while carrying a bowl of oatmeal the night before. Telling Lucas it wouldn’t help anybody if he crashed on the drive to Dan’s had been the winning argument. Devon didn’t want to undo all his persuasion for nothing. He was fine with Noah there. Really.

“It’s fine.”

Noah nodded again and they lapsed into silence.

It wasn’t fine. All the tension and awkwardness and shoved down feelings were like torture, actually, but Devon couldn’t wrap his head around his feelings about Noah.

On one hand, Noah had murdered him. He’d looked Devon in the face and stabbed him. Blood loss plus organ failure made for a quick death, but not a pleasant one and he could remember every second. On the other hand, it was Noah. His dork of a friend who critiqued cooking shows like a judge, wouldn’t take off his stupid beanie for the end of the world, and brought him back from the dead.

He almost wished Noah was an evil asshole, it’d make hating him easier.

Devon sighed. He was so tired, but sleep would only bring more nightmares. “Can you tell me about Rowan?”

“What about her?”

Devon shrugged. “Anything. I know her name but not much else.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Noah didn’t need to know that.

Noah relaxed into the bed. “Well, she showed up about a month ago, her and her friend, Amalia…”

Devon let himself get swept away by Noah’s voice. If he could focus on Noah’s life instead of what he’d done, focus on the present instead of the past, maybe he’d be able to ignore the little voices in the back of his mind saying ‘Did you really hate me enough to kill me?’ and ‘Am I back for me? Or am I back for you?’

#ilw #ilitw mc #ilw fic #it lives within #noah marshall #turtle writes

6 notes · View notes

thatdammchickennugget · 8 months

Text

White Lie

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x fem!reader

summary - After accidentally telling your mom you have a new boyfriend, you have to resort to your last option and ask your old friend turned enemy for help.

warnings - fake dating trope, cursing, mention of cheating, some bullying, Enzo being a little mean, grumpy x sunshine vibes, university au set in the states, not proof read (sorry)

wordcount - 3.3k

a/n - I have so many other things I should be working on but instead I'm writing this. This might have slow updates, it might now. Depends on what else 2024 decides to throw at me lol

series masterlist

“I give them two months at most.”

Closing your eyes as the familiar voice behind you got even louder, you took another deep breath in, your hand clenching around your pen.

“Really? I say maybe two more weeks,” another voice added with a laugh.

“Nah, I think it’s going be a little longer than that. How long was he with his last girlfriend? I think they dated for a while, right?” the deepest voice out of the bunch cut in, and you had to stifle a groan.

Turning around in your seat, you faced the group of guys sitting at the table behind you. “A year and three months, actually. Now, can you please shut up or go somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to study here,” you hissed at them, glaring at the one with the fluffy brown hair in particular.

The three boys stared at you for a moment, only one of them having the tact to at least look apologetic.

“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see you there,” the one you were glaring at said with a cheery smile. “Thanks for the input, but I still say two months. What do you say, Mattheo? How much are you betting?”

“Betting on other people’s love lives now, Berkshire? You really don’t have anything better to do?” you asked, eyes narrowing in his direction.

“Why, you want in as well? You should have a good shot at winning, you know. Being closest to the source,” Enzo said still smiling, not even blinking at the murderous look you were sending his way. And he knew damn well he was hitting a nerve.

“Wow, way to be sensitive,” his friend mumbled, slouching back in his chair.

“Yeah, what Zabini said,” you nodded, rolling your eyes. “You shouldn’t bet on people breaking up.”

“Why not? It’s just some harmless fun,” Enzo continued with a shrug of his shoulders, looking back over at the couple in question currently making out in the middle of the library. Your gaze followed his without thinking, heart sinking at the sight. “If any of us should hope for them to break up it’s you. You should hate her guts, right?”

With a sigh, you averted your eyes from your ex-boyfriend shoving his tongue down the blonde girl’s throat. The girl you had found him in bed with weeks ago.

“Why should I hate her? He cheated on me, he’s probably going to cheat on her. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for her,” you huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling the urge to bolt out of the building.

“I see you’re pretty confident that he was the problem and not you,” Enzo turned back to face you with a grin, his words hitting you like a brick to the face.

Mattheo’s face paled and he quickly pretended to be scribbling down notes while Blaise’s hand shot out to punch the taller boy’s arm. “Not cool, man.”

Pushing your books into your bag, the chair scraped across the floor as you jumped up. “Fuck you,” you spat back at him, ignoring the way some of the other students scattered around the room looked up at you now.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” you heard Enzo call after you as you rushed through the doors, flipping him the middle finger as you went.

Outside, you refrained yourself from kicking over a trashcan as you tried to stop your eyes from watering. You had not been the problem. That’s what you had been telling yourself over and over these last couple of weeks since your breakup.

Brad hadn’t fallen into bed with this girl because you pushed him into it. No, he decided to jump in all by himself. Of course, he had a whole list of reasons why he did it and somehow, he was convinced that all of it was your fault.

You couldn’t let yourself think about it again, not now when Pansy had finally managed to convince you that it was his actions and not yours that ended your relationship. Pansy. That’s who you needed right now. She would set your mind straight before it could shrivel up and blame you again.

Pulling out your phone, you sunk down onto a bench. Unlocking it and going straight to your contacts, your thumb was hovering over her name when your phone started vibrating and the word ‘mom’ popped up on the screen.

This time, you didn’t hold back the groan pushing itself out of your throat. Taking another deep breath before releasing it, you swiped to answer your mother’s call. “Hey, mom. Listen, this is kind of a bad time. Can I call you back later?”

“Hey, sweetie! I’m sorry, this won’t take long I promise,” your mom’s bright voice rung out from the other side and you would bet any amount of money on the fact that this probably would not be a quick conversation, no matter what she was promising.

“Alright,” you told her with a grimace. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to know if you have a new date for the wedding yet?”

You had to bite down on your cheek to keep from screaming. “No, mom. I don’t know who I’m bringing yet.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! You know, my coworker was telling me this morning that her son is also recently single!” your mom went on, each of her honey-sweet sounding words worsening the throbbing pain spreading through your temples. “I’ll ask him, yeah? And we’ll set up a meeting for the two of you the next time you're home!”

“No, mom!” you cut her off, feeling a little bad about the rudeness of your tone but also not really caring at the moment. “I don’t need a date, okay? And I definitely don’t need you to set me up with someone. I’m completely fine managing my dating life on my own.”

“Ah, I was worried you would say that,” she mumbled and you could almost feel her pout through the phone.

Something about her tone had alarm bells ringing in your head. “What’s going on?”

“Sweetie don’t freak out. Bradley will be attending the wedding.”

You waited for a moment, assuming she was just taking a pause before telling you the bad news. “That’s it?” you asked when the line stayed silent. “He’s the cousin of the groom. I was expecting him to be there. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“He’s also bringing his new girlfriend. And your sister agreed to let her be in the wedding party,” your mom explained and then went on, her voice full of pity. “I think it would be better if you had someone with you. Don’t you want them to know you’ve moved on? I think it would really help make the day more bearable for all of you.”

“It’s fine. I swear you don’t have to worry about me,” you told her through gritted teeth. This had been news to you. But you would deal with it.

“Please, just let me do this for you. I swear he’s a nice boy! You can meet him on mother’s day, I’ll invite him over for dinner!”

“No-,” you tried to interject again but she kept talking over you.

“I don’t know why you have to be so difficult about this. I’ll invite him over and you’ll be nice to him and give him a chance!” she huffed, shutting you up. “This is what’s best for you and you’ll have to trust me with this.”

Trying not to anger her any further, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, cringing as the words left your mouth. “I do have a date, actually.”

This had your mother fall silent for a second and you felt your heartrate picking up. You just lied to your own mother, maybe there was a reason why you weren’t her favourite after all.

“What?” she stuttered out. “But you just told me you don’t?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you kept lying through your teeth, crossing your fingers behind your back. “It’s still pretty new, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up just yet.”

“Oh, honey! That’s wonderful!” she chirped and you could hear her tell your father, knowing that she was probably bouncing around the house with excitement. “You should bring him over next week! We’d love to meet him and there’s always room for one more.”

“Maybe. I’ll see if he’s up for it.” Rubbing your temples, you were already running through possible options. Who did you know who’d be up for coming to your sister’s wedding with you? That would be something to tackle another time. At least you still had a couple months before the wedding and until then, you’d just have to come up with excuses why your new boyfriend couldn’t meet your family.

Your mother was already back to spewing out questions. “What’s his name? Where did you meet him? Anything he can’t eat?”

“Mom, I’m sorry but I’ll have to call you back another time. He actually just got here and we’re about to go for some food.” The lies just kept tumbling out of your mouth today. “I’ll see you next week, yeah? Love you!”

As soon as the call ended, you dropped your phone onto the bench beside you, letting your head fall into your hands. Calling Pansy wouldn’t be enough. This was an emergency. You would need about twenty blankets and a bucket full of ice cream to get through the rest of the day.

“So, who’s the new boy toy?” a voice called out from behind you, a sharp pain flaring up behind your eyes in response.

“Enzo, please just go away,” you grumbled, not even bothering to look up at him. “I really don’t feel like dealing with your shit right now. Be an asshole somewhere else.”

“Calm down, I’m not here to be an ass,” he told you as he walked closer, dropping onto the seat next to you. “I actually came to apologize.”

“Let me guess, Zabini made you?” you asked with a small, humourless laugh. “No thanks. I don’t want an apology from you.”

“He might have helped persuade me, but I’m actually sorry. You know I didn’t mean it, right? I was trying to be funny and thought you would maybe even laugh for once.”

“I'll laugh if you actually manage to be funny for once,” you huffed, finally sitting back up, rubbing your eyes as you slouched back.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ll try to be less insensitive from now on,” he said and nudged your arm with his. “I didn’t think you’d actually be hung up on that dickhead.”

“I’m not. I don’t care what he does or who he does it with.” You weren’t even sure who you were trying to convince, Enzo or yourself.

You kept staring out at the street, watching the passing cars even as you felt him staring at you. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Hm?” You glanced over at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Who’s your new guy?” Enzo asked again, lips quirking up into a smirk.

With another roll of your eyes, you pushed yourself off the bench. “Yeah, it’s time for me to go.”

“Wait,” Enzo called, jumping up himself to fall into step with you. “I know there’s no new guy. And I also just heard you lie to your mom about that. So, I have a proposition for you.”

You came to a halt when his hand gently grabbed your wrist, instantly pulling your arm out of his grasp. “What proposition?”

Enzo offered you another one of his signature smiles. “I’ll be your date.”

You let out an actual laugh at that. He had to be joking right now. “Sure you will,” you started walking again, shaking your head.

“I’m serious. I think I owe you a favour for what I said earlier and my mom’s been on my ass about not having a girlfriend yet too lately, so this would actually help me out as well,” Enzo told you, his long legs having no problem keeping up with you. “And I’ll be at the wedding anyways.”

That fact was something you liked to ignore. Seeing him at basically every family function was not something you looked forward to, at least you haven’t in years. But seeing as his mom was your mom’s best friend, his presence in your life was unfortunately, much like a chronic illness, depressingly permanent.

“Thanks for the offer but no,” you told him, not even considering the option. The only thing worse than showing up to that wedding without a date had to be spending time with Enzo Berkshire the whole night. “No one would believe the two of us were dating anyways.”

“And why do you think that?” the boy chuckled beside you, nudging you again and only backing a step away when you sent him another glare.

“Because we can’t stand each other? Our families have been watching us fight for years. No one would believe I liked you.”

“I think you’re forgetting that our mom’s have been praying for us to get married ever since you were born,” he said grinning down at you. “They’ll believe it because they want to believe it.”

Coming to a stop in front of your apartment building, you turned to face him again, taking a step back in surprise at how close he was standing to you. “It’s still a no. I’ll figure something else out.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” With another cheeky grin he held his fingers to his forehead in a goofy looking salute, backing away as you went to fish your keys out of your bag. Pansy was not ready for the things she was about to hear.

ੈ♡˳

You were out of options. Your mother had already informed everyone that your new boyfriend would be attending mother’s day dinner and after your sister had called you, trying to call you out on your lie, you had stupidly doubled down, insisting that he was indeed real and that he would definitely be there.

And now, after asking pretty much every single guy you knew on campus and all of them telling you no, you were leaned against the wall outside the soccer team’s locker room with your tail between your legs.

It pained you to admit it, but Enzo had a point. He would be there on mother’s day, on the wedding, and pretty much every other holiday your families insisted on celebrating together. And with your mom’s basically having your own wedding planned out already – Pinterest boards and all – it shouldn’t be hard to pull this off for a couple of months. You only saw your families every couple of weeks anyways, and while at school, you could still avoid Enzo the same way you always had.

After both Pansy and Ginny had told you to just suck it up and go along with his idea, you had managed to swallow your pride and sent him a text. Enzo had agreed to meet you after his practice to go over the plan, so you found yourself waiting, trying to blend out the smell of sweat and axe body spray wafting out into the hallway whenever someone came through the door.

When Enzo finally appeared, eying the notebook pressed to your chest with a grin, you turned on your heels. He followed you outside, taking a seat on the bench you had claimed while shaking out his still wet hair.

“So, you wanted to talk?” he turned to face you, resting his arm on the wood behind him.

“I want to set some rules,” you told him matter of factly, opening up a new page in your notebook and fishing a pen out of your bag.

“Rules?” Enzo’s face pulled into a grimace, watching you write the word in big neat letters at the top of the page. “You really know how to take the fun out of everything, huh?”

“Of course we need rules,” you said with a glare. You should have known he wouldn’t make any of this easy. “For example: No kissing. Actually, no touching either. Unless we absolutely need to.”

“What?” Enzo reached over to take the pen out of your hand as you started to write your first bullet point. “How do you expect this to work if I’m not allowed to touch you? They’re supposed to think we are dating. I’d say we’re way past the cooties phase, they’re going to realize something is up if we’re not all over each other.”

Yanking your pen back from his grasp, you scribbled down the words, almost pressing the tip right through the paper. “I said it’s okay if the situation calls for it. But we’ll keep it to hand holding. Maybe you can put your arm around me at some point. But that’s going to be it.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Enzo questioned with a laugh. “They’ve seen you basically attached to your boyfriend before and I’m sure they know I’m not the type to keep my hands of my girl.”

“Okay, then we’ll just agree to keep the physical contact to a minimum,” you gave in, aware that he was probably right and especially your mom might suspect something through her rose-coloured lenses if the two of you didn’t touch each other at all. “We only do whatever the situation calls for, and even then we try to keep it lowkey.”

“I’m fine with that,” Enzo nodded along. “What else?”

“Nicknames. What are we going to call each other?” you prompted, continuing to write what you were saying down. “I think we should keep it at ‘love’ and ‘babe’.”

Enzo took the notebook and pen from you, placing it on his legs as he started writing. You leaned closer to him, taking a peek at what he was doing, immediately shaking your head when you found ‘hot stuff’ was now on the list.

“Absolutely not,” you told him, taking the paper back and crossing it out. “’Princess’ is also a no. And ‘darling’? What are you – British?”

Enzo had the nerve to look slightly offended at that. “Excuse you, I quite literally am. Did you forget about that?”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t forget but I still don’t like it.”

Of course you didn’t actually forget about it, that accent had managed to charm you into trouble more times than you can count when the two of you were younger. Back when you were still friends and you thought you might even become more than that.

“Come on. Usually all the girls go crazy when I call them that,” he said, the smirk back on his face.

Relenting, only to make this go by faster, you shook your head in annoyance. “Okay, you get one ‘darling’ a day. Happy now?” The stupid triumphant look on his face told you he was. “Now, what do you want me to call you?”

He just shrugged as he pushed a hand through his still damp hair and you got the feeling he wasn’t taking this nearly as seriously as you. “I’m fine with whatever.”

“Next: We keep this a secret.” You added another bullet point, happy when he didn’t start complaining about this rule too. “No one can know about it. Not even your friends.”

Technically, your friends already knew about it. But you trusted them to keep their mouths shut and stay out of it. That much couldn’t be said about Enzo’s friends.

“I have something else to add,” Enzo smiled and you hesitantly gave him the notebook. Regret washed over you right away when he chuckled and wrote down ‘sex’ along with a dopey looking smiley face.

“God, can you stop acting like a child for one moment please,” you hissed at him, snatching the book back to scribble the word out and adding ‘NO HOOKING UP’ in big letters.

“Dude, it’s a joke,” he was laughing again, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You need to loosen up a little or no one will believe I’m into you.”

“I think we’re done here now. I’ll see you Sunday,” you ignored his jab, packing up your things.

“Alright. I’ll pick you up, babe,” Enzo called after you with a grin.

Enzo Taglist -

@slytherinboysappreciation @urmomsgirlfriend1 @starsval @gillyweeds @sir-elian @harryslittlebitch @gayforyelena @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ravenclawprincess33 @sbrn0905 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @moonlightreader649 @ihatemyexs @chgrch @nat1221

[bolded names couldn't be tagged, I'm sorry :/ ]

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

Get Added To The Taglist

#enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #harry potter #slytherin boys #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mari writes

629 notes · View notes

traumamade · 1 year

Note

Todd nodded his head stiffly, still looking down at the ground. "Yeah, I was. And I... I wasn't... Great? When I first staggered away from there. I was around Arklay Mountain Range for a while, lost honestly after the bomb dropped and wrecked my place of employment." He rubbed the back of his head with the free hand, almost like a nervous tick. Well, that gave away where he had gotten infected, and just how many years ago it was. "But as I said, time went on, and my head cleared more and more. So like I told you before. I've just been traveling. Not a lot else to do." Not safely at least. Keeping his head down in the homeless way of life was smarter, at least for a simple civvie.

But the nervousness was slowly leaving him, as if telling someone, anyone, what he could remember had lifted a weight. Or maybe it was just because Leon hadn't shot him yet.

He tugged on his arm gently. "Here, hang on a sec-" Todd spoke, while getting his limb free from the agent. Now gently undoing his old jacket, zippe yanked down as he carefully wiggled free of it. Showing that he wore an old T-Shirt, with some old stains. Inside the coat was that old nametag, hooked onto the lining and fade. 'RC. SIG.COFFEE, Todd'. But that was not what he wanted to show. Nor the sudden sight of the fact he sure as hell did have muscles, more than could be seen under the ratty coat.

The man reached up and yanked his collar aside, nice and far. Showing a gnarly and ugly scar on top of his shoulder joint, in the shape of nasty human teeth. Dug deep. And the veins around it were blackened. The skin it's self grey there, but faded out into that unnatural pale tone over him. "See? I don't know what happened, if it's from the random shit I tried to eat, or if it was from the really big guy that took my depth perception, but... I'm still me. Mostly dead but not entirely."

"Everything make sense now?"

It dawns on him fast and all at once. The mention of Raccoon City always sets him on edge and causes anxiety to flare up. The name tag as well as the mention of a bomb tells Leon everything he needs to know.

This man is a survivor of raccoon city. How and why, he doesn't know, because anyone who got bit there shouldn't have made it out alive. At all. So what makes Todd any different?

"I'm....sorry about your job." It's an odd thing to focus on, isn't it? That is long past and a job isn't something to focus on like that but it's more than that. If Todd can read behind the lines, perhaps he can see the guilt in Leon's blue gaze.

"You were infected there, then. I don't know how the hell you're....you....but you were infected and the virus reacted to you in an entirely different way. Do you have any symptoms other than what you've told me already? Like, uh, hunger for flesh?"

#todd!anon

0 notes

abbatoirablaze · 2 years

Text

TM Tragedy, Season 2, Chapter 19

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds/medical situation/being stitched up, mentions of character death, aggression, threats of violence, mentions of guns.

Mikey’s POV

It was late when I heard the sound of bikes pulling up. Mom and grandma had told me I should be going to bed hours ago, but I didn't care. I had to wait up. I had to make sure everyone was okay.

Grandpa pulled in first, then with dad and the guys behind him. The old ladies rushed out to greet the boys. Lyla practically sprang into uncle Ope's arms. That was soon followed by Aunt Mandy and Juice getting all gross. Dad met up with mom, and Jax slowly made his way to Tara. Grandpa was the last one to close in on his old lady.

Neither one of them looked happy.

That's when I felt the bench next to me give, slightly. I saw Half Sack out of my peripherals.

"You guys good?"

He nodded, "yeah."

"You don't look to happy about it." I said slowly, "hell, Tiggy and Happy look downright pissed off...what happened?"

"Hale showed up," he said, keeping his eyes straight forward, "arrested Weston and shit before we could really get anything going."

I looked him up and down. He looked pale as all hell.

"Ranking members, to church," Clay called through TM. Most of the guys went in, “NOW!”

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "it's nothing."

"Bullshit," I replied. He looked at me and lifted his shirt a little. I could see a fresh cut, "I thought there was no weapons."

"Not supposed to be," he sighed, “But shit happens. You know that.”

"Jesus Kip," I said, putting a hand right below the cut, "go to the office. I'm gonna clean you up."

"I'll be fine," he said, pushing his shirt back down. When it went over the cut he winced, "shit."

"Either you let me clean you up, or I'm telling Tara and Mandy. You know they'll make a big deal out of it."

He seemed to consider calling my bluff, before heading towards the office of the shop.

Inside, most of the old ladies and kids had gone to sleep, but there were still some crow eaters keeping the party alive. Pouring shots for some of the prospects from other charters. Mandy was staring at me from the bar, with Tara.

I tried to get to the kitchen as quick as possible. When a sweetbutt grabbed their attention, I slid into the kitchen. I made quick work of grabbing some first aid stuff from the kit.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Jesus," I gasped, dropping the supplied I'd grabbed. I turned around to see my aunt and Tara staring at me, "It's nothing."

"Really?" Mandy asked. She gave Tara a knowing glance.

Tara raised a brow, "that looks like stuff you might need to stitch someone up."

"Just mind your business.” I growled, picking the stuff up and shoving past them. I ran through the clubhouse and back outside. It was quiet. The only noise was the wavering music from behind the clubhouse doors, and the sounds of a sleepy town called Charming. I smiled, forgetting for a second that Half Sack was waiting for me.

Then my phone buzzed.

'you coming? Or am I gonna bleed out?'

I smiled to myself, putting my phone back in my pocket.

"Alright you big baby," I laughed, opening the door to the office, "take your shirt off."

When I closed the door and turned around, I dropped everything I'd grabbed. He'd already taken his shirt off and was sitting on top of the desk. All at once I felt myself get very hot, and also extremely cold. It felt like a fire was going off in my jeans.

"I....uh"

"You told me to take my shirt off," he laughed, “should I put it back on?”

"I..." i stuttered again. I dropped to my knees and began to grab everything that I'd gathered from the kitchen.

"You okay, Mikey?"

I nodded, setting it on the chair in front of me, "I just...didn't umm.."

"You didn't expect what?"

"You're just really cute," I admitted, standing so that I was face to face with him. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as he gave me a smile, “I’m sorry, I-“

"You're just saying that," he laughed, not believing a word I'd said, “don’t gotta lie to the prospect, sweetheart.”

"I'm not," I admitted, "Kip, you know I don't bullshit people."

He laughed, and my cheeks felt like they were on fire again. I tried to preoccupy myself with getting a rag covered in hydrogen peroxide.

"Hey, uh..." I said, turning to him again, "this is gonna burn."

"Can't be any worse than Afghanistan," he laughed. I tried to give him a reassuring smile and placed it over his cut. His hand grabbed mine, as he tried to force the rag away from his skin, "SHIT!"

"I'm sorry."

"Jesus," he whispered, trying to get air on it. I grabbed some gauze, “shit that hurts.”

"We need to clean it, or it'll get infected," I warned, "then I'll need to stitch it up too."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"What?" I said, trying to make a joke, "I thought it couldn't be any worse than Afghanistan."

"I lied," he admitted, "that shit really fucking hurts."

"Come on you big baby," I said, holding the needle out to him, "either you do it or I do."

"Or you can have a real doctor do it." a voice said from the door. I turned around to see Tara. She gasped at his gash, "oh my god."

"I'm fine," he said, trying to stand up. I pushed him back into his seated position, “really, I-“

"Can you stitch him up?"

She huffed, then nodded, "yeah."

I handed off the needle to her and she kneeled before his side. I stood off to his other side. I tried to not look at him, because every time I did, my cheeks felt hotter, and hotter.

"This might hurt," Tara warned. She started stitching him up, and he began to wince and whimper. I stood closer next to him, brushing our hands together. After the second time, I gave up, but he grabbed it and forced a cough.

I smiled, looking over at him. Through his wincing I could see the faintest of smiles paint itself on his face.

Clay’s POV

"What's the news?" I asked as Unser came up to us. He didn't look happy.

"Stahl's been locked in a room with the FBI for two hours now," he groaned, "No idea what's going on."

"What about Weston?"

"Still waiting to hear from the DA," he sighed, heading back in, "Sorry."

The guys started heading down to the bottom of the steps near his cop car. I looked at Gemma, "you should go on back to the clubhouse. They're gonna need you and the girls there."

"All right," she said, with a sigh. She kissed me, "you don't forget to come home to me."

I walked her down the steps, hand in hand until she reached Tara and Mandy. Jax pointed at half sack, "sack, you stay with them."

"Absolutely."

"Thanks brother."

The girls headed out and I stood next to Juice, who was watching Mandy. She looked pissed at him, "Everything alright between you two?"

He nodded, "she's upset that we came back so late...Rizario saw me covered in blood...wouldn't come near me."

"That shit's rough," I sighed, putting an arm around the little Rican, "he'll get over it though. He's still young."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I know that she's just upset...it'll simmer down."

I nodded, rubbing the patch of hair the kid had, "you two will figure it out.

Unser came back out about ten minutes later, "you fellas comfortable?"

"What?"

"Bad news for law enforcement," Unser admitted. We all began to stand up, "Weston and Zobelle are both walking."

"How?" Jax asked.

I looked at Unser. This was impossible.

"Chucky's testimony won't hold up," he sighed, "And Zobelle has been working for the FBI all along!"

"A rat?"

He nodded, "been trading senators and AB shot callers."

"Thanks," I sighed. Unser nodded. I turned to Jax, "get to Otto. Have him send word up the ranks. It'll have him protected inside again. Stops any Aryan backlash once we drop Weston."

Jax nodded, "Weston's mine."

"I know," Tig said. He grabbed Jax's shoulder and turned him towards the doors. "Jax!"

Zobelle was coming down the steps of the police station, his daughter and handler with them. I could hear Hale asking if they needed an escort anywhere. He declined it, and after I heard the hum of a new set of engines I knew why.

Alvarez and the rest of the Mayans came around the corner.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I growled. Tig and Jax looked at me.

"Holy shit."

"Alvarez?" Tig asked.

"Brown's protecting their investment, huh?"

Zobelle pulled out, giving us a sly look, and I watched as Alvarez and the rest of the Mayans followed him out. We all pulled out, following them to the Cigar shop. Jax made his way to the jail to get word to Otto so he had some cover.

It wasn't long until the cops showed up. While we had each claimed a side of the street, Hale had two cars parked in the middle of main street. Two armed cops on each side gave the illusion that they had the power.

It wasn't much later that Alvarez began staring me down.

I felt the rage deep inside me.

And it wasn't over Zobelle. It was over Melissa. Over his son. Over our shared grandson, that my daughter was now raising.

He lit his cigar and began to step towards the officers. They raised their shotguns and told him to back up.

"I just want a discussion, man." he said simply.

I mirrored his actions and stepped towards the center of the street. The cops patted him down, and I handed my gun off to Tig. Hale motioned both of us forward.

"Don't know what the drama's all about, ese," he said, ignoring he obvious, "Just buying a few cigars."

"You're not supposed to be here, ese."

"Why's that, huh? Afraid I'll corrupt another member of your family?"

"Well, you're all out of children to barter for your life...so the next time you misstep it doesn't look good."

He cursed at me in Spanish and spat at my feet.

"Our truce?" I said, "null and void. You need to buy cigars someplace else."

"I won't be staying long," he growled, "showing a new friend out of town."

"Your new friend," I said, trying to level with him, "he hurt my club. My town. And my family. You got no idea who you crawled into bed with, Marcus."

"Send your crew home, Clay," he said simply, "Let me do what I gotta do."

I lit up my cigar and blew the smoke over his head, "that ain't gonna happen, brother."

"You do it," he growled, "or I'll call in another charter...and we can turn main street into Dia De Los Muertos."

He walked away as Tig came up to me, "why didn't you tell him Zobelle is a rat?"

"Cause he'd kill him," I said simply, "and he's mine."

I turned back to the guys. I needed to figure out our next steps. After a few I turned back to Juice, "it's time. Let's make the Mexicans feel welcome. You and the nomads stay here. Rest of us, clubhouse."

"I'll call you when they get restless," Juice said with a nod. I smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

"You're a good kid, son."

Chapter 20

Tag List: @lohnes16 @evyiione

#teller morrow tragedy #soa #teller morrow #clay morrow #gemma teller #soa gemma #charming #mc #motorcycle clubs #motorcycle

1 note · View note