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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 4 years

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Songs About Me: Chapter Five

Thanks for your continued support for these sweet artsy bairns! Here’s the next installment! I read all of your kind comments and they mean the absolute world to me.

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Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

Claire was just walking up to the picturesque green of Louisburg Square, where her townhouse sat facing the gardens, when her phone began an incessant buzzing. She had her hands full after stopping at the market for dinner staples (otherwise known as a box of Velveeta Shells & Cheese). She was fumbling with her purse and muttering a not-so-quiet “Shit,” when she dropped her keys on the porch. When she stooped lower to get the keys, more toiletries from the market spilled onto the ground and rolled down the steps while her phone continued to buzz. “Oh fuck it all to hell… Oh hello, Mr. Grant!” Claire’s next door neighbor was a kind man, but always appeared perplexed -- whether by her uncontrollable hair, clothes splattered with dirt from the shop, or simply by wondering how she came to be the owner of one of the most coveted real estate properties in New England, Claire would never know.

“Hello dear. Are you alright over there?” His brow was knit as Claire shoved her scattered belongings back into their various bags all while muttering under her breath as to not offend the old man’s sensibilities. She stood, and realized he had most definitely already heard her vocabulary choices.

“Oh, I’m fine, just one of those days!” One of those days where you fall head over heels for the strange guy you met last night and then all your shit falls on the sidewalk because your brain is short-circuiting.

“Well as always, if you need anything, I’m just here and happy to help.”

“Thank you! One day I’ll absolutely take you up on it -- I’m usually less of a mess!” She tried to joke it off, but it sounded a little too much like she was trying to justify herself to neighbor, and herself.

Mr. Grant smiled. “Of course, dear. Ah, you seem to be very popular today!”

Claire’s phone went off for at least the fifth time. She tried to reign in her annoyance, said her goodbyes to the man, and using her foot to kick a back of groceries inside the doorway finally made it inside. She dug around her bag for the phone ready to lash out at whatever telemarketer couldn’t take a hint, but stopped.

Two missed phone calls, four missed texts. The caller left a voicemail for each call. She pressed play on the earlier one.

“Hi Sassenach, uh, Claire, I guess I should call ye Claire since that’s yer name, huh? Shit. Hold on… Okay, let me start over. Hello Claire, this is Jamie. James. James Fraser? From the bookshop and the karaoke, ye ken? Of course she kens, ye damn eedjit… Me! Not you! Oh god this is literally the worst call I’ve ever made in my life. Fuck it, I’m just going to try again.” The voicemail abruptly ended. Claire was in stitches at his earnest attempt to just talk to her. At least he wasn’t lying when she heard him say she wouldn’t have to wait long at all for message from him. She pressed play on the second voicemail.

“Hello Claire, I hope this message finds ye well. It was verra nice to see ye today at my shop. It may be the cool, relaxed thing tae do would be to not call ye right away, but ye make me feel anything but cool and relaxed and under control. Ye make me feel… like there’s something different between us, mo nighean donn. As I told ye in the shop, I dinna think I can wait another week to see ye. If you would do me the honor of saying yes, I would verra much like to take ye out for dinner and drinks. Or anything ye wanted to do, really. Dinner and drinks was just my idea… okay I think I’m getting flustered again so I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Okay thanks, talk to you soon hopefully, bye. Oh, and this is Jamie Fraser.”

Her laughter had died out the moment he said how she made him feel. Is that really how he felt about her? Did he mean it? Claire had a feeling that Jamie Fraser from the bookshop and the karaoke, ye ken didn’t ever say things he didn’t mean. She fell into the couch facing the big bay window, and breathed. Her breath came in heavy, her heartbeats fast. Her thoughts were swirling and her mind racing and everything felt light around here. A little breathlessly, she opened her text app to a number she didn’t recognize.

[+16178256192]: Hello Claire, this is James Fraser from Fraser Literature and from karaoke last night at The 21st Amendment.

Claire actually laughed out loud now. As if she could forget who he was! He had turned her world upside down at the bar, she sang in his shop, she gave him her phone number less than an hour ago! She added his number to her contacts before reading his following texts.

[Jamie]: Okay that was weirdly formal, sorry

[Jamie]: Could ye do me a favor and just delete the first voicemail?

[Jamie]: I was hoping we could maybe set up a time for the date I mentioned earlier at the shop? I would really like to see ye again before next week.

[Jamie]: And maybe before we have to hang out with the Spanish Inquisition. ;)

Claire laughed through her nose at that last one; apparently, Jamie had been grilled about their relationship? Interaction? by Rupert and Angus like Claire had been by Joe and Geillis. She reread all the messages he’d sent her before responding.

[Claire]: Hello James Fraser, owner of Fraser Literature and karaoke. I do indeed remember and even if I didn’t, you’ve reminded me several times in your many incessant texts/voicemails. ;)

Three dots immediately popped up, disappeared, popped up, and a next text appeared.

[Jamie]: I told ye to delete the first voicemail! You weren’t supposed to hear my rambling!

[Claire]: Uh huh, seems likely. ;) Maybe I have a super power that renders you useless around me?

[Jamie]: Well lass you're not far off.

[Jamie]: How’s about that date? What are you doing tonight?

[Claire]: Lol, you’re not tired of seeing my face yet?

[Jamie]: Not yet, not ever.

[Jamie]: Sooooooooo, dinner? ;)

Eventually, they decided on a little Italian place close to Claire’s place. Claire paced around the upstairs bedroom, trying out an outfit only to rip it off and throw it in a pile on the floor. She’d walk to the bathroom, evaluate her look, give a deep breath out her nose, and was now at the point of yelling about how she had no clothes. But, she remembered. In a garment bag at the back of her closet hung a blood-orange dress. A square neckline gave way to a triangle dip in the middle, the hem came just to the middle of her thigh with a cinched waistline.. She smiled, sadly. The last time she wore the dress, she was still in med school. Frank had asked her out to “a dinner with a few medical friends” and promised she could make a few connections to help her down the road. Claire ended up discarded at the door until Frank needed to show her off to a classmate or professor or colleague. She learned he hadn’t told anyone she was also studying medicine, telling her he “wanted to let you stand on your own, darling.” The last time she had worn that dress, she realized she wouldn’t resign herself to a life of being second-best to her partner, to a group of strangers, or to anyone. Tonight was the perfect time to remind herself she was taking things into her own hands yet again -- with Jamie at her side. Her smile turned genuine, and she pulled it off the hanger.

-- -- --

Jamie knew this was unusual. Claire wasn’t the first girl he’d ever been interested in, but if he had any choice in the matter, she would be the last one. Rationally, he should’ve been talking himself out of planning a future with the girl from the bar, but he couldn’t help himself. When he was in high school in Scotland, he kissed a girl who smelled like hairspray and spun sugar and he didn’t like that at all. He kissed a few lasses before rugby games and they’d tell him it was all for good luck. He enjoyed them (didn’t every red-blooded teenage boy enjoy kisses before sports games?), but enjoyment was the extent of it. In college, he had met Annalise. She was smart and kind and lovely, and so bonny. She’d loved his family, loved him. And he had loved her, too. Their relationship started after their first year at school when they became close friends and confidants. She was truly one of the best friends he’d ever had, outside of the lads. When he said he was leaving Scotland to pursue his dreams in the states, she said she was being “abandoned”. Jamie considered asking her to come with him to build a life, but reconsidered. After many long conversations, many tears, many honest words… they had decided their relationship was based in comfort. They loved each other, there was no doubt about that. They loved each other because of their close friendship, their proximity to each other at school, their families’ friendship that developed because of their own. When Jamie confronted Annalise about his realization that he would forever be grateful for her, but didn’t see a romantic future together, she had cried and told him she was so happy -- she felt the same. They split amicably and continued to call and text when they could. Friendships like theirs didn’t just dissipate.

With Claire, things felt… different. Emotional, raw, honest, profound. It felt like something he couldn’t quite place. Something he didn’t have words for. The mere thought of her made his pulse quicken, made his breath catch in his chest. Their connection last night at the bar, their physical connection at the bookshop (god, how it felt to be touched by her…) , their easy banter over text, and then when she gave him her address… he had to sit down. He knew her address exactly. He’d passed it every time he went home, or went to work, or went anywhere at all. She lived in Louisburg Square, across the garden and just to the right of a place he knew intimately. She lived across the garden and just to the right, of his place. They were neighbors. He never knew. He thought back to telling her how they must have just been missing each other for years, but god, he never knew how close they really were.

Jamie finished tying up his leather boots and took a look in the mirror. Hair brushed back, curls falling at his neck, a light blue button-up, a leather jacket. Not too bad. Still not good enough for her, though. He tugged at the neck of his shirt, and left his townhouse. He made his way up his side of the square, and stopped not ten feet up the sidewalk. He saw her. From the second floor, Claire was illuminated by soft light in the window, gauzy curtains framing her. He could only watch in awe as her head tilted to the side to fit an earring to her ear. She reached for a brush and started to comb out a curl. Jamie sighed contentedly when he noticed her hair was still down, curled around her face, wild as ever. Claire gave up with the brush and settled herself to smoothing down creases in her wee dress with delicate hands. Hands that had touched him, healed him, had literally written her name over his heart. She was... ethereal. Tearing his eyes away from the window, he managed to send her a message:

[Jamie]: On my way there Sassenach

[Claire]: No worries, take your time. See you soon!

Jamie rounded the center garden and up to her steps. The light from the window was still glowing, but he could no longer see her. One more text:

[Jamie]: Just outside

He walked up the steps, raised his knuckles to the brass knocker, and paused. First step to forever… His phone buzzed.

[Claire]: I thought I said to take your time? ;) seriously, how’d you get here so fast? Just a sec and I’ll be down!

He did knock then, answered her text to say there was no rush, he wasn’t going anywhere. Behind the door he heard a literal run down the stairs and he stifled a chuckle. There was a jingle of keys, a fairly loud, “Shit!” as the keys hit the floor, a scuttle of shoes around the entry, and the door opened.

Here we go, lad.

#songs about me fic #in which tessaactually tries fan fic #outlander fan fic #outlander fan fiction #jamie x claire #the frasers #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

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The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone.

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami.

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again.

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out.

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere.

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her.

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled.

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.”

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?”

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep.

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained.

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing.

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control.

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know.

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?”

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

#Rafael Barba x Carmen #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

The House on Aspen Street

Switch AU

Hehehehehehe >:3 That’s the sound I made while writing this part. I want to get right to the action so I’m gonna keep this author’s note short. To summarize it, Anti goes to meet Distorter, gets a ride on the way and learns some interesting things about the house he’s going to, and at the end of this meeting, he meets someone new :) Hope you enjoy :)

More of this AU found here

Emergency meeting. Soon as possible.

Jackie read over the message one more time, despite already reading it at least once every hour since Anti sent it to the group chat. When he’d sent it, Schneep had been at work, so it was impossible for all of them to meet immediately. So after some discussion, they’d decided to meet later that night, around eight o’clock. Schneep had volunteered his apartment as the meeting place once he’d actually seen the message, and everyone had agreed.

Now it was approaching meeting time, and Jackie kept rereading the conversation, legs jiggling nervously while he sat on the sofa. Schneep looked over towards him from where he was standing in the kitchenette. “You are just making yourself more nervous the more you stare at that,” he said bluntly.

“I have a right to be nervous,” Jackie muttered. “I mean, you read the whole conversation, right? About what happened with Marvin and everything?”

“Yes, but you should not wallow in it. Like a pig.”

“I’m not a pig,” Jackie said absentmindedly. “If I was an animal, I’d be a...I don’t know, I want to be a kind of dog. Dogs are cool. And you can be one of those big cats, like a cheetah or something. Or should Marvin be the only cat? Cause, you know, he’s definitely one of those. But I think he’s a housecat so maybe it’s different enough. JJ knows a magical animal spell, right? Maybe we could find out.”

Schneep raises an eyebrow. “I see the train of thought is speeding down your tracks.” He leans back, taking a long sip of coffee from the mug in his hand. “But fine. What animal do you think Jamie and Anti would be, then?”

“Well JJ says that when he’s tried the spell he starts to turn into a bird of some sort before actually failing to, uh...do it, or whatever. Can’t get all the way through the spell yet. Anti...I don’t know, I think he’d be a reptile. Like a snake. Or a turtle.”

“He is about as defensive as a turtle sometimes,” Schneep said under his breath.

Jackie laughed.

Before they could continue the conversation, there was a heavy knocking at the door. They glanced at each other, all previous levity disappearing, then Schneep set down the coffee cup and walked over to open the door.

“Hey!” Anti immediately shoved past him and into the room. Marvin followed shortly after, half-leaning on him. “Who’s here? Everyone here?”

“No, JJ isn’t here yet,” Jackie explained. “Uh...Marvin, are you okay?”

“‘m just grand,” Marvin mumbled. “Fuckin’ swanky.”

“He’s been sleeping on and off ever since he showed up at my place this morning,” Anti explained. He walked over to the nearest chair, letting Marvin collapse on the seat. A small green light poked out from Anti’s jacket pocket and flew into the air. Sam. They landed on Marvin’s shoulder and nuzzled against his neck as he rubbed his eyes. “Honestly I don’t blame him.”

“So...it’s all...really happened, then?” Jackie asked fretfully.

“Just like I said in the chat.” Anti sounded irritable. “You think I’d make something like that up?”

“Well...no, I just...” Jackie looked back down at the text conversation on his phone. He shivered. Distorter had been in all their houses by now. Was nowhere safe?

“Do you two need anything?” Schneep asked. “I just made coffee.”

“Yeah, sure,” Anti shrugged.

“No t’anks,” Marvin said. “I prefer tea.”

“You and Jamie and your leaf juice,” Schneep muttered. “It’s because of you I have some in my cupboard. You like mint, yes?”

“Wh—y-yes. T’anks.”

The apartment was silent for a few minutes, except for the sound of Schneep making the drinks. He finished just in time for someone else to start knocking frantically on the door. Anti went to get it this time, pulling it open slowly at first. But the moment the door opened a little it was shoved open the rest of the way as JJ rushed in.

“Mar—!” He gasped, then coughed the moment the first sound left his throat.

“Jems?” Marvin twisted in his seat to look at him. “Ye shouldn’ strain your voice like that.”

JJ hurried over to his side, and gave him a quick, tight hug. He then reached into his shoulder bag to take out a notebook and pen. Are you alright? Hurt? Tired?

“‘m a bit tired, yes, but fine other t’an t’at,” Marvin reassured him. “Bit...bit shaken.”

Nodding, JJ reached into his bag again and pulled out a small box, handing it to Marvin. Thought you might want these. I also brought a pair of headphones, just in case.

“Oh. Oh!” Marvin opened the box from the side, sliding out a deck of cards. “Oh, t’ank you, Jems. You were right, I missed these.” He fanned out the cards, then separated them into two decks and started shuffling them, already looking a bit better.

“Okay, super-ultra-best-friends,” Anti said, closing the apartment door. “Glad to see you’re immediately attached to each other, like always.” He paused. “Sorry for, uh...keeping him at my apartment all day, Jackson.”

It’s fine, couldn’t be helped, JJ wrote. But now I must ask. Why’d you call the meeting? What is this more serious business you were referring to? Because this is already quite serious.

“Right.” Anti walked over, standing closer to the others but still on the outskirts of the circle they’d subconsciously formed. “So. We all know the background of Marvin showing up at my place this morning?”

“Yes. It was him,” Jackie whispered.

Anti paused a moment. “Well, to put it bluntly, yeah. He wanted to deliver a message.”

“Said Anti would listen t’me, not t’him,” Marvin muttered.

“Well that is some faulty logic if I have ever heard any,” Schneep said angrily. “Is still coming from him, either way.”

What was the message? JJ asked.

“An address and a time,” Anti said. “He wanted to see me there, noon in three days. 68 Aspen Street.”

Jackie and Jameson stiffened in unison. “Wait, that’s the—isn’t that—” Jackie stammered. “That’s the ghost family house.”

“Ghost family house?” Marvin repeated, confused.

“Ah, right, you still don’t know,” Anti said. “I told Schneep the story, I think—” Schneep nodded in confirmation. “—but haven’t gotten around to telling you.” Anti folded his arms. Normally he’d relish the chance for a scary story, but right now, he was ready to get to the point. “A whole family of four were killed in that house. Years ago, now, but anyone who tried to live there since then died as well. So it’s basically abandoned. I think someone owns it, but it’s just for like, real estate or some shit like that. No one lives there.”

“Family of four...” Marvin repeated, looking lost in thought. “I t’ink I heard somet’ing about somet’ing like that. Recently.”

“Only a matter of time ‘til you found out,” Anti said dismissively. “It’s a local legend.”

“But you’re not actually going to go to that meeting, are you, Anti?” Jackie asked.

“Uh, well.” Anti hesitated. “That’s sort of why I asked everyone to meet. To discuss this in person.”

Jackie blinked. “You...you can’t be considering it, Anti!” His voice slowly rose higher. “You can’t be trusting anything from him! It’s clearly a trap!”

“Well, yeah, probably,” Anti admitted. “But—”

“But nothing! You can’t listen to him!” Jackie gripped the front of his hoodie tightly. “Doesn’t he want you dead, anyway? He’ll kill you, or worse!”

JJ whistled for attention. Jackie, calm down. We have to think this through. Distorter has a bargaining chip: the kids. We don’t know what will happen to Will and Michelle if Anti doesn’t show up.

Jackie’s face drained of any remaining color.

“What does he even want?” Schneep cried. “Except for some of us dead and others of us worse?”

“Not sure,” Marvin admitted. “I t’ink...he just does t’is. To anyone he can find.”

“So I’m definitely going to the meeting,” Anti said, bringing the subject back around. “But the question is, do any of you want to come too? As backup?”

Silence for a moment. “Well...will something happen if we do?” Schneep asked.

“The message didn’t say anything about other people,” Anti recalled. “It was just the time and address. Um...Marvin?”

“I don’ remember any instructions about t’at,” Marvin replied. “But then again, he might have been plannin’ t’relay instructions of the sort, but then I got snapped out of it before he could. He didn’...really give me orders beforehand. It was like...his voice. In my head.” His eyes go distant. JJ squeezed his shoulder, bringing him back to the present, where he started vigorously shuffling the cards again.

“But he probably won’t be happy about it, if someone does show up,” Jackie said. “And he might...the kids...i-it’s not worth it.”

“But we could lose Anti, too,” Schneep argued. “In a much more permanent way.”

“If I have to die to get my son and my goddaughter back, I will,” Anti said, fully determined.

“We might not even get them back,” Schneep said quietly. “We might lose everyone.”

“No. Nope. I’m not going to let that happen.” Anti folded his arms, physically standing his ground. “I say it’s much more risky to have someone else come. He could get angry and do something to the kids if he finds out, and given his freaky thought-sensing powers, I bet he would. I’m gonna go to this ghost house, I’m going to get the kids back, and I’m going to step out alive. Any objections?”

Another moment as silence fell. Everyone else looked at each other, then JJ picked up his pen and wrote, Well, you’ve clearly made up your mind.

“I, uh...well, I didn’t realize I did until now,” Anti said.

“Sometimes you just need someone to bounce your ideas off of,” Schneep said. “So you can figure it out yourself.”

If you’re determined to do this, we won’t stop you, JJ said. We’ll help you with anything you need. The others made various sounds of agreement.

“Thanks,” Anti muttered. Sam hopped from Marvin’s shoulder over to his, stubbornly wriggling into the fabric.

“I t’ink Sam wants to come wit’ you either way,” Marvin chuckled.

“Is that okay?” Jackie worried.

“I think so. They’re not exactly another person.” Anti patted them.

“Well, in that case.” Schneep sighed. “I suppose all there is to do now...is wait.”

———————

The three-day wait was absolute agony, anticipation mounting into a tense anxiety for all of them involved. But the wait passed, far too quickly it seemed like, and around eleven o’clock Anti texted the others to tell them he was leaving to go to the house on Aspen Street. A bit early, but he’d rather not risk missing the deadline.

Unfortunately, he almost did. While on the bus, he was so nervous that he got off at the wrong stop. He found himself on the edge of the neighborhood where Aspen Street was, and walked for about two blocks before realizing something was wrong. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself, reaching into his pocket to get his phone. When he pulled it out, Sam came as well. It felt like they were looking at him with a concerned expression as he double-checked the maps app. “Fuck,” he repeated. “It’s 11:45, the next bus won’t be coming for fifteen minutes. And it’s a fifteen minute walk anyway. Fuck, I fucked up. We’re fucked.”

Sam nudged his arm. He looked down at them. “It’s not excessive, not in this situation.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. “But if I run I might just barely make it in time.” Sam bobbed, almost like a nod, then hopped onto his shoulder, hanging on tight as he broke into a run.

Anti was a pretty fast runner, but he wasn’t sure he was fast enough. And it had been a while since he’d ran, at least in a dedicated manner. About five minutes later, he had to slow down, ragged breaths tearing at his lungs. “I guess...there’s something to say...about spending most of my time at a computer,” he said under his breath. He took out his phone and double-checked he was going in the right direction.

A car turned onto the street. Anti didn’t look up at it as it passed him. But then it stopped. And reversed. And the window rolled down, accompanied by a voice saying, “Oh my god, Anti?”

“Wh...?” Anti looked over at the car as Sam ducked back into his pocket. His expression soured as he saw who was driving. “Oh hey. Stacy lady.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Heading somewhere,” Anti said vaguely. “Need to be there by noon.”

“It’s 11:51.”

“And it’s nine minutes away. It’s fine.”

Stacy frowned. “Do you...want a ride? I could probably get you there in half the time.”

Anti glared at her. As much as he didn’t like this strange woman who’d inserted herself into their lives, he had to admit time was of the essence. “Sure,” he said reluctantly, walking over to the car. Stacy unlocked the doors and he climbed inside.

“Right.” Stacy started driving again. “Where are you heading?”

“Uh...68 Aspen Street.”

Stacy immediately hit the breaks. She turned to look at him. “Is this a joke?”

“What? No.” Anti blinked, confused. “What the fuck kind of joke would that be? ‘Oh, let’s drive by the ghost house, just for shits and gigg—’”

“Ghost house?” Stacy repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, the ghost house. Well, I guess you wouldn’t know the story, being American and not local and everything.”

“What story?” Stacy prompted.

Anti rolled his eyes and huffed. “Some family died there and now it’s haunted and other people who live there get into accidents and sometimes die. Pretty typical urban legend.” Stacy said nothing for a moment, looking Anti over. It was actually sort of uncomfortable. “Can you stop fucking analyzing me?” He snapped. “Do you think you’re Sherlock Holmes or something?”

“Why are you going to a haunted house, then?” Stacy ignored his comments and pressed on. “Not for ‘shits and giggles,’ if the way you talked about it was any indication.”

“Look, it’s not important. Someone asked to meet me there at noon, and it’s now 11:53, so if you’re not going to drive me just let me know so I can get out and run.”

Stacy sighed, then started driving again. She was going a little over the speed limit, but Anti was fine with that. He took out his phone once again and checked the maps. After a moment, he frowned. “Hey, uh...do you know where you’re going?”

“Yes,” Stacy said shortly.

“Funny, because if you’re not from around here, why would you know how to get to this very specific address?”

Stacy tensed. “Well, I...take a vacation here every year. It’s usually just a week or so, but I extended it this year purely due to you guys’s shenanigans.”

“‘You guys’s shenanigans’,” Anti muttered in an exaggerated American accent. “Why do you even come here every year, anyway? Oh yeah, Mirygale, that one random British city that’s just like every other urban area ever with absolutely nothing notable, I’ll vacation there.”

Stacy gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I have my reasons.”

“They must be damn good reasons. What is it? Sentimental value?”

“Why do you live here?” Stacy snapped. “You’re Irish, shouldn’t you be back in Ireland?”

“I would be, except for living there sucked ass for me personally,” Anti said vaguely. “But I didn’t mean to choose this city when running away, I just ended up here. You choose it, repeatedly, every year.”

“I come here to visit my sister and her kids, okay?!” Stacy finally said, looking over at him.

“Oh. Well, you should’ve just said that from the start.” But something still felt off to Anti. “Where do they live?”

“This place called Spring Oak Park,” Stacy said flatly.

Anti blinked. “Oh. That’s a...oh.” Spring Oak Memorial Park was a cemetery near this part of town. “I’m...sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Stacy inhaled deeply through her nose, letting it out through her mouth. “I guess it was a bit suspicious.”

“Sorry,” Anti mumbled.

A few moments of silence passed. Stacy turned onto another street. “I didn’t know their deaths had become a local ghost story,” she said quietly.

“Wait. They were the ones who—oh my god. I am so fucking sorry.” Anti’s face turned white as he realized why Stacy had reacted the way she had to hearing the address he was going. She must have thought he’d figured out her connection to the house and was mocking her.

“It’s fine,” Stacy said again. “I...don’t really get to talk about it that much. Actually, I met your friend Marvin at the bookstore the other day and just...poured it all out. It was probably a bit awkward for him, he was just working.” She looked a bit guilty about that. “But...nobody really asks. Did they really become a ghost story?”

“Yeah,” Anti said softly. “Pretty famous local one. Cause the story made the news big.”

“It would,” Stacy nodded.

Another few moments of silence. Then Anti couldn’t help but ask, “So...if you’re American, that would mean your sister was, too, right? How’d she get here?”

“College. The local university likes to attract out-of-country students, she and I both got offered a scholarship but only she went. Then she met her boyfriend. They were like...the only two Americans in the whole place, so they got along. Then they got married when they were both barely twenty.” Stacy paused. “Never liked him, honestly. Even before...everything.”

“I could see why,” Anti commented.

“No no no, he wasn’t an asshole or anything, he was actually pretty nice,” Stacy hurried to say. “He just...wasn’t right for Roxy. Really good with kids, but...not in other aspects of being married. One of those types who just didn’t have his life together, you know?” She shook her head. “None of us were expecting...that.”

“Huh.” Anti went quiet, thinking over the information he’d just received.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and at 11:58, Stacy pulled to the side of the road in front of 68 Aspen Street. Anti pushed open the door and hopped out, pausing for a moment before turning around and saying a quiet, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Stacy said. “Want me to stick around for a ride back?”

“No, I don’t know how long this’ll take.” Anti hesitated. “Did you really just stick around this year ‘cause of me and my friends? That just...that’s a bit weird.”

“It is,” Stacy agreed. “But I don’t know...For some reason, you guys seem a bit...familiar. Like you remind me of someone. I just can’t figure out who.”

“Huh.” Anti stepped back. “Well...bye.”

“Bye. Have fun with whatever this is.” Stacy reached over and pulled the door shut, then drove away, soon vanishing from sight.

“‘Have fun’,” Anti repeated. He giggled. “‘Have fun’...I’ll only have fun if I get to put my knife through Distorter’s fucking smile.” Sam popped out of his pocket again and looked at him. “Oh c’mon, Sam, it’s an exaggeration.” Mostly. “Now...we’re here.”

The house at 68 Aspen Street didn’t fit in with its well-kept neighbors. The yard was overrun with plants; plants that had quickly died and were now clumps of yellow in between patches of dirt. The roof was missing shingles and the paint on the walls was grayed and peeling. Dirty windows were blocked up by nailed wooden planks, and the white front door was speckled with spots of brown. Anti slowly walked up the path to the threshold, avoiding the cracks in the paved squares. Once at the front door, he checked his phone, watching the time change from 11:59 to 12:00 exactly. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the rusted knob and opened the door, stepping inside.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. But somehow, it wasn’t a normal living room. Well, mostly normal. It had a sofa and chairs, a coffee table and a couple end tables. Even an old TV, one of the boxy ones. The room was lit up by one of those round ceiling lights, dim and leaving some shadows. There was an attached hallway leading into darkness and an archway leading into another, more lit up room. Mostly normal. Except for the boards over the windows. And the fact that everything was shades of gray. Furniture, carpet, wallpaper, ceiling. All gray. But not like they’d been made that way. Rather, like the color had been drained out of everything.

Anti shivered, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pocket knife and flicking it open. The familiar weight was comforting, made this all feel a bit safer. Taking a deep breath, he walked fully into the living room.

Of course, the moment he was far enough in, the door shut behind him.

Spinning around, he tried to open again, but naturally found it wouldn’t budge. “Fucking...fuck,” he muttered. He glanced into his pocket. “You okay?” Sam wriggled around inside, showing that they were fine. “Great. Well, guess we’re going deeper.”

Not quite wanting to brave the dark hallway yet, Anti walked into the other room through the open archway. This looked like a combination kitchen/dining room. There was a sliding glass door on one wall that had been boarded up similarly to the windows. Once again, it looked pretty normal, except for the lack of color. Oh, and the rope wrapped around the backs of the dining room chairs, the knife gouges in the wooden table, the kitchen knives lined up on the counter, and the bottles of what looked like cleaning supplies dotting the tiled kitchen floor. “What the hell?” Anti whispered.

Unfortunately, this room was a dead end, and nobody was in here, so Anti backed out. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to the dark hallway. Guess there was no other option.

He reached over to the wall, tapping it. Sam peeked out, their green glow—was it just him, or was it a bit more faint than it usually was?—helping him look around. Anti patted them, then let out a small gasp as he found a light switch. Flicking it on turned the suspicious hallway into a mostly-normal one. A bit more reassured, Anti set off to explore it.

The hallway turned out to be an L-shape, with doors for five rooms all ajar. Anti checked them as he passed. A gray bedroom, empty except for a single bed in the center with a nightstand next to it. A gray bathroom, the medicine cabinet overflowing with way too many bottles. Another gray bedroom, this time regularly furnished and mostly-normal except for childish drawings of stick figures scrawled on the wall in a dried red-brown liquid. A gray closet, with regular scratches on the inside clustered in groups of five. And one closed, gray door that refused to open.

“Well, shit. That’s all, isn’t it?” Anti looked around. This whole house was...creepy, yes, but also empty. “Hello?” He called out. “I thought you wanted to see me.”

No response. The air felt heavy, like the pressure of many miles of water bearing down on a person stuck deep underneath the surface. It was chilly. Not cold. Just chilly.

With nothing else to explore, Anti decides to turn around and look a second time, see if he missed anything. But nothing in the other rooms had changed at all. And there was still no one else in the house except for him.

By the time Anti returned to the living room, he was very, very confused, and starting to feel the edge of panic creeping up behind him. What would happen if he couldn’t find Distorter? Would he count that as not showing up? “Hey! Give me a clue or something!” He shouted, turning on his heel and running back down the hallway.

When he reached the spot where the hallway turned, the toe of his boot hit something, and he tripped.

“Aack—!” Anti reached out to catch himself, sending a jolt through his hands and up his forearms. “Fuck,” he said, gritting his teeth. Standing up again, he looked at what his boot had been caught on.

In the middle of the hallway, there was a square of the carpet lined in a metal frame. A handle was embedded in it, perfectly fitted so it would be smooth unless you pulled on it. A trapdoor. Had...that been there before? Anti was sure he would’ve noticed it. “What d’you think, Sam?” Anti said, looking down at his pocket.

Sam peeked out, wiggling out a bit so they could look down at the trapdoor. Then they looked up at him. They wiggled again, a bit more slowly this time.

“You don’t know what to make of it, huh? Me neither. I mean, not a lot of houses in cities have cellars. Or basements, whatever. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house with a basement.” Anti hesitated, then bent over to grab the handle. It took more effort than expected, but he managed to pull it open, revealing a wooden ladder leading down into pitch black darkness. “Ohhh fuck that. I’ve consumed enough horror to know that’s where shit goes down.” He took a few steps back. Then punched the nearest wall. “Fuuuuck, that means I probably have to go down there. Shit. Ass. Dicks.”

Sam looked up at him, clearly concerned.

“Alright, fine, Distorter, I’ll play this game,” Anti muttered, reaching into his pocket. Unfortunately, he had to trade his knife for his phone, as he’d only be able to hold one thing while going down that ladder. “Not happy about it. But I’ll do it.” He switched on the flashlight, shining it into the trapdoor. It looked like there was a concrete floor at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the edge of the trapdoor, then once he’d settled his feet on the ladder rungs, he stood up on it. Quickly, he pulled off one of his bracelets and set it down on the trapdoor edge, near the part where it swung. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all he had to make sure the trapdoor didn’t close like the front door did. Then, carefully, reluctantly, he started descending.

Landing on the floor, Anti shined his phone flashlight around. Light reflected off a pair of concrete walls to either side, and complete darkness in front and back. Another hallway. Anti crept up to the wall, reaching out and looking for a light switch of some kind. Nothing. Just cold cement. “Hey Sam? You mind helping out?”

Sam wriggled out of his pocket, flew into the air, and hovered for a few seconds. Then their light flickered and they fell to the ground, dropping like a brick.

“Sam!” Anti knelt down and scooped them up again. Their light was still there, but much dimmer, barely bright enough to see. They looked up at him and weakly wagged their tail.

“Shit,” Anti muttered. “Okay, nevermind. You don’t have to help. Just rest up.” He placed them back in his jacket pocket. “Guess this place does something to you.” Honestly? He could see why. The atmosphere had suddenly thickened the moment he climbed down the ladder, bearing down oppressively. But he shook it off for now, and headed forward down the hallway, shining the light from his phone flashlight ahead of him.

And he just walked.

And walked.

And after what felt like five minutes, he had to stop. “This is impossible,” he said to himself. If the hallway was this long, it would extend into the street, and that would interfere with piping and other underground municipal matters. He couldn’t have really been walking this long. Was he just going in a circle or something? And why hadn’t there been any rooms or branching halls? There had to be an answer...there had to be an answer...

Anti shook his head. He’d spaced out for a moment there, and had to struggle to come back to reality. Like...like some sort of brain fog. Edging its way into his mind against and clouding it up. Dragging him down. No, he had to keep walking. Eventually, the hallway had to end.

It felt like ten minutes passed before he finally did reach that end of the hall. Another concrete wall blocked his way forward, and despite shining his light all over it, he couldn’t see any sort of hidden doorway or window or anything. Stepping backwards, he sighed. Guess he went the wrong way of the two directions.

Someone laughed.

No, not just someone. Anti stiffened and spun around. He’d recognize that laughter anywhere. “Will?” He called. “Where are you, bud?” No response. Anti hesitated. This was surely a trap. But he couldn’t turn away. That was his kid. “Will?!” He started walking again, a bit faster than before but not as fast as he would have liked.

More laughter, children giggling. It sounded like more than one. “Will?! Michelle?! Are you here?!” He tried to pick up the pace, but in doing so, his toe hit something and caused him to fall. Unable to catch himself this time, he hit the ground hard enough to make his bones ache. The phone went flying out of his hand, somehow turning off, as if the darkness snuffed out its light.

“Shit,” Anti groaned. He got to his hands and knees and started patting the ground to look for the phone. But he couldn’t find it anywhere.

His hand ran into something else, though. Immediately snatching it up, he turned it over a couple times, fiddling with it, until suddenly a tiny flame appeared. A lighter. What was that doing here? He hadn’t seen it on the way here. And now, using this new source of light, he still couldn’t see his phone anywhere. Swearing under his breath, he stood up. He patted his jacket pocket to make sure Sam was still alright—they were there, but not moving, which was worrying—and then pulled his knife out of his pants pocket, holding it in front of him defensively as he slowly started walking again.

This felt...familiar. Had he had a dream like this once? Or was it just because his head was slowly spinning?

The sound of the children’s laughter echoed through the hall, getting louder, getting closer. “Will?! Michelle?!” He shouted, voice cracking. Nothing. Just more laughter. He blinked back sudden tears in his eyes—wait, he was crying? He never cried.

There was a turn in the hallway. A turn that appeared before the trapdoor to the house did. But...he hadn’t turned on the way down here. Cautiously, he peered around the corner.

This was not a dark endless hallway. Rather, it ended in a doorway. Beyond which came a crimson glow. And there was someone standing there. A dark silhouette. Anti’s vision blurred and wavered as he felt the floor tilt beneath his feet. “Who’s there?”

The silhouette turned around, the head tilting unnaturally far to the side. A white grin reflected the red light. It felt like his ears were ringing. His eyes were leaking.

“Where are they?!” He cried. “What do you want from me?!”

The sight before him smeared. The silhouette moved closer, then farther, then closer again in an unnatural way. He couldn’t tell how far away it was until a hand reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, nails easily tearing at the cloth. “What do you think?” A voice hissed, completely unrememberable.

Anti swallowed nervously, leaning backwards. “It’s you,” he said quietly.

“Of course it’s me!” Distorter giggled. “What were you expecting? You knew why you came here, right?”

He tried to shine the light from the lighter at Distorter’s face, but somehow, it never lit up any details. “Yes. I do. You wanted to see me. Why? Where are the kids, you fucking nightmare?!”

“They’re fine. Nice kids.” Distorter let go of Anti’s shirt, but stayed just as close to him. “You know what I think? I think they should stay here forever. Their parents should come, too. That includes you! What do you think? Instead of killing you, I could let you be my friend.”

“I’d rather you kill me,” Anti muttered.

“Because death is a more familiar concept to you?” Distorter slid his finger across his throat. “You hide the scar well, but I’ve seen that memory. Does anyone think it’s weird how your neck is always covered?”

Anti froze for a moment, starting to reach upward before stopping, remembering how he was still holding his knife. “Shut the fuck up!” He suddenly roared, and lunged forward with the blade. To his surprise, Distorter didn’t dodge at all, and the hit landed squarely on his shoulder with a surprising and sickening crack!

“Oh.” Distorter looked down, disinterested in the way the blade was lodged in his shoulder. “What a reaction. Anger’s always how to respond, isn’t it? How lucky is your kid, that he’s never seen a response like that?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Anti repeated, though his voice now shook. “You dare—stupid—I’m not an asshole. I know how to control myself.”

“Now.” Distorter emphasized.

“I would never—never—if you can see into my head, you know this. You’re trying to fuck with me.” Anti staggered backwards, pressing a hand to the side of his head as it spun. “Stop it.”

“But it’s so much fun. And it’s all a worthless piece of trash like you is good for, anyway.” Distorter laughed again in pure delight. “But you’re right, we have to move on to business, don’t we? Why do you think you’re here?”

Anti couldn’t hold back a hysterical laugh. “What is this, a job interview?”

“You don’t know, do you?” Distorter put a hand on the side of his head, grabbing his hair and pulling his head to the side until his neck cracked. “Well, that’s fine. I’ll tell you. You see, even though these kids are wonderful to have around, I’m starting to realize that I’m not equipped to keep them yet. So I’ve decided to give them back. In exchange for something else.”

“Something else?” Anti repeated. His mouth felt suddenly dry, but he pressed on. “What, do you want...me? I-if that’s the case, fine, you can have me, just leave the kids alone.”

“Oh, so selfless! Or maybe it’s just that you know you’ll just die alone anyway, so you think it’s best to give yourself up for a worthwhile cause.”

“I—”

“But that’s not what I want.” Though Distorter’s smile never faded, his tone was cold.

Anti blinked. “Then...what?”

Distorter didn’t answer, just continued to stare and smile. Laughter echoed through the hallway. More children’s laughter, too much to come from just two children. It grew louder, closer, until it was a shrieking cacophony. Anti looked around frantically but there was nothing to make this sound. Tears and blood flowed from his eyes. In an effort to make it stop, he pressed both hands to his ears, dropping the lighter in the process.

It clattered against the floor. In the couple seconds before the flame winked out, he saw Distorter’s blackened hand reach out, his grinning, dripping face coming closer.

———————

Sunlight was seeping through his closed eyelids. Something was tickling his face and hands. A couple hard, small things pressed uncomfortably into his stomach where he was lying down. In short, he figured out he was outside, on the ground, somewhere with grass and rocks. His head...hurt. Not just a little ache, but a piercing pain attacking from all angles. Squeezing his eyes, he rolled onto his back and covered his face with an arm, hoping that blocking the light would help. It did not.

Something nudged his shoulder. Sam, probably. He paid them no mind. Right now, he didn’t want to get up like they were undoubtedly urging him to. “Mmm..no’ now,” he said, the simple two words coming out slurred. He was too tired from...from...why was he tired?

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice shouted. “Are you okay?”

Anti groaned. “Fucking marvelous.”

“Yeah, you really look it.” The voice belonged to a man. And Anti was surprised to recognize an Irish accent. “Want me to call someone?”

Gritting his teeth, Anti pulled his arm away from his face and opened one eye, squinting in the direction the voice was coming from. For a moment, the bright sunlight blinded him, before he picked out the slightly darker silhouette of a man a few feet away, getting closer. “No, I want you to fuck off.”

“Wow. Okay. Just trying to help.” The man stopped approaching, holding up his hands in the international gesture of ‘I mean no harm.’ “Thought you might—Sam?”

“Sam?” Anti lifted his head up a bit, glancing down to notice Sam joyfully bouncing on the ground next to him. They leaped into the air and flew over to the man, circling him a couple times before landing in his outstretched hand.

“Sam!” The man repeated happily. “There you are!” He brought Sam up to his face, where they nuzzled his cheek. “I was so fucking worried! Next time, don’t wander off on your own, okay? No matter how important it is.”

“Wait...what’s going on?” Anti finally managed to sit up and open both eyes, blinking a bit to get used to the sunlight. It looked like he was in the park, lying in an open patch of grass quite a ways away from any of the park’s paths. The man who Sam had flown up to was standing nearby. He was wearing a red shirt, black jacket, and jeans, and his hair was dyed a highlighter-bright shade of green. Blue eyes glanced over towards Anti, looking him over from behind a pair of glasses. The man also looked a lot like him, but not in the way that all his friends who looked like him did. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Jack,” the man introduced himself. “Jack McLoughlin. Sam says you’ve been taking care of them. Thank you so much!”

“Wh...Sam ‘says’? But...they’re an eye.” Was he hallucinating? Was that it? Did he eat or drink something laced with drugs without him knowing? Did Distorter decide to send him off with a confusing illusion?

“Well, yeah, but we share a connection, see? I can understand them.” Jack patted Sam, who flicked their tail happily at the contact. “For example, they say your name is Anti.”

“Hey!” Anti glared at Sam. “Don’t just tell people that!”

“Oh, they say sorry. They thought it was alright.” Jack tilted his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “You know...you kinda look like me. Except for the eyes. Are we related?”

“Definitely not.” Anti tried to stand up, then cried out as the movement caused his headache to intensify. His hands shot up to press against the sides of his head in a vain effort to make it stop.

“Dude, you’re clearly not alright,” Jack said, clearly concerned. He almost reached out, but then Sam swatted his arm and he stopped. “Can I call you a ride or something? Like an Uber?”

“We don’t have Uber here,” Anti said through clenched teeth. “Not Lyft, either. Just public transport.”

“Ah. Shit. Well I can walk you to the bus stop, then?”

Anti really didn’t want to accept help from some random stranger, but his head really, really hurt. And this person was apparently Sam’s original...owner? No, that sounded weird. Friend. Sam’s friend. And Sam was alright, so he probably was, too. “Fine,” Anti muttered. “Give me a second.” He slowly climbed to his feet, keeping his vision low to the ground so the light wouldn’t make his headache worse.

“Alright. Take your time.” Jack waited patiently. “You, uh...want to lean on me or something?”

No, he didn’t want to, but he probably had to. Silently, Anti walked the few steps closer to Jack and ended up half-falling on him.

“Whoa, careful.” Jack smiled encouragingly. “What happened, anyway? Sam won’t tell me.”

“Uh...I don’t...remember.” That was probably a bad sign. He remembered walking into the house on Aspen Street, finding that basement, walking down a long, dark hallway, and confronting Distorter, who said he would let the kids go. But after that? Nothing.

“Ah, one of those things. Well, it’s alright, we’ll just take it slow.” Jack looked around. “I think the bus stop is...this way. C’mon.”

The two of them ended up walking to the stop and waiting in silence. Once the bus came, Anti let Jack come with him to the stop closest to his apartment building, as well as help him walk the few blocks to the building itself, but refused to let him come inside. Jack backed down, then wrote his phone number on a spare napkin and gave it to Anti, telling him to call if he needed anything else. Then he left, Sam flying along with him.

Anti managed to take the elevator up to his apartment and get inside on his own. He then headed straight to the sleeper sofa, still in bed mode, and collapsed, curling up into a ball and holding his head.

What had happened in that visit? Why couldn’t he remember? He’d lost his phone, so he couldn’t call anyone to see if Will was really back with the others. All he could do was lie there and hope the strange headache subsided.

Eventually, he fell asleep, suffering strange, feverish dreams of a red-lit hallway and a smiling figure reaching out to grab him.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #programmer anti #chase brody #distorter #all the boys show up but those two are the most important so im sticking to them #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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boomjohnny · 4 years

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🅼🅸🅽🆃🆈 // NJM

pairing: slytherin!jaemin x slytherinprefect!reader

word count: 1.5k

*this is a series (which will likely be very irregular lol)

**this is part one and idk how many parts i’ll make yet

warnings: none (maybe it’ll get a bit spicy later but most of it is just mc being stubborn and boo boo the fool)

genre: fluffffyyyyy like jaehyun’s hair and a byproduct from me rereading hp in quarantine

Love. Unconsciously, at some point you decided it was something you didn’t need. Something you didn’t want. Love is for the weak. To love is to be weak.

Love is weak. And you aren’t weak.

You can’t afford to be anyway. With nobody but yourself to depend on practically since birth, you were accustomed to being alone. In fact, you were comfortable being alone. You didn’t need friends - or anyone for that matter. They would just weigh you down.

However, your life seems to enjoy making misery for itself. A new bane inserted itself excitedly into your seemingly perfect(or so you thought) life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the form of a transfer student with a rather shocking blue head of hair.

Na Jaemin, from Ilvermorny was enthusiastic, to say the least. It was that kind of enthusiastic you might see with a dog at the park after a long stay indoors, or with a child who just got their favourite candy. From the moment his gaze lingered on you for more than the usual millisecond, you knew he was different from the other transfers you’d introduced the school to.

He was curious about you; and it was annoying.

“And over there is the Grand Staircase. Do be careful as they move around and there are vanishing steps halfway - I’ll mark where the last one was but I expect they’ll change again. And over here-”

“Have you fallen through the vanishing steps yourself, Miss Prefect?” He says, brightly.

You frown at the interruption(it was his third time) but answer anyway. “Well erm… yes. Once.” You turn back and continue to march down the hall, the blue-haired boy trailing closely behind you. “As I was saying, over here is-”

“When did you fall?” He pokes his head next to you, wearing a brilliant smile that no doubt the girls in your Charms class cooing at his arrival would be more than happy to pay a Galleon for. “Did it hurt? You were probably really small then. I mean, you’re still small now-” His hand lays on your head for a moment before you shove it off. It was only then that you realise, as he hovers over you with a grin you would quite like to rip off, that you were indeed, about a head and a half shorter than Jaemin.

You turn sharply and continue walking, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. “First year. Not really. And I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you measure yourself? One would usually like to know these things-”

“And I’d like you to be quiet now, thanks.” You snap, earning a pout from him. “I do need to get to my classes too, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t waste my time.”

After that, to your delight he stayed quiet for the rest of the tour, with only the sounds of hums in agreement or enlightened “oh”s or “ah”s leaving his lips. As the hour reached noon, you stopped in front of his next class, Divination, from which your nose already wrinkled due to the heavy patchouli that seemed to waft about within a ten metre radius from the room.

“That marks the end of the tour. As a Prefect, I do hope you enjoy your time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you have any further inquiries, feel free to refer to your student guidebook or Head of House.” You said, the words from the “Student Tour” section of the Prefect guidebook flashing through your mind as a sort of script. “Well then…”

As you begin to turn around, Jaemin’s amused voice stops you in your tracks. “Why do you talk like that?”

“What?”

“Why do you speak like a robot?” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the doorframe. “It’s like you’re reading off a script.”

“...a robot?” You feel like you’ve heard the word before. In a textbook somewhere…maybe…

“It’s a Muggle thing. Hunk of metal that can do Muggle things for Muggles,” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “It’s rather interesting. Almost like magic for Muggles, since they can’t cast spells like Accio. Although I suppose nowadays it seems like some are starting to have a mind of their own…”

“So you’re saying I’m like a hunk of metal made by Muggles with the purpose of doing Muggle things for Muggles?” You narrow your eyes, already annoyed that he still isn’t in the classroom. “Is that your form of an insult?”

“No no no. I was just saying you’ve been a bit cold to me, that’s all.”

“Well it isn’t in my duties to do anything other than take you around the school grounds,” You say, shrugging. “Besides, I only met you two hours ago and I have no intention of talking to you more than I have so…”

“Wow. Your words sting,” He clutches his chest, patting it a few times. “Can you really say that as a Prefect of-” He clears his throat, and mimics your tone. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“I just finished the tour. I’m not speaking to you as a Prefect anymore,” You sniff, getting another infuriatingly strong whiff of patchouli. “-or as anything else. Goodbye.”

As you trudge down the spiral staircase of the North Tower, murmurs of excitement and delight pass you, a rare sound to hear from students going to Divination. One three-way conversation between two Ravenclaws and a Slytherin caught your ears in particular.

“Hey, hey, I heard that the new guy from Ilvermorny is joining our class.”

“Huh? The blue hair? What was his name again?”

“Oh! I saw him earlier with that snooty Prefect from Slytherin.”

“His name is Na Jaemin…and he’s soooo good-looking. I heard that he was top of his class no - year in Ilvermorny too, but he had to transfer because his father moved jobs from MACUSA to our Ministry of Magic - to be the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement, at that!”

“Oh shit, really? He must be loaded.”

“Damn. I better get close to him, if he’s such a big shot…”

“Yeah, and his mum is that famous part-Veela author, you know that book about…”

You don’t realise you’ve basically been walking a step per minute until the circular trap door closes with a booming thud that echoes through the tower. It makes you jump, your polished Mary-Janes getting dangerously near the edge of a step. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

Gossip wasn’t your thing, really. You thought it was rather useless to speculate someone’s life story behind their back - and it wasn’t like you wanted to know that much about Na Jaemin anyway. He was annoying and you’ll never speak to him again - that’s all you needed to know. That’s all you WANTED to know.

But still it bothered you. Not the fact that his father was now the head of the largest department in the Ministry, not the fact that his mother was a famous author who happens to be part-Veela, not even the fact that his hair is cobalt blue even though he’s a Slytherin.

The fact that it’s been two hours since he’s stepped into this school and people already talking about him like that just felt so…

Your eyes fall to the student information sheet bound tightly under a clip in the binder, only now noticing the “Na Jaemin” wiggling hyperactively around the page like they ingested too much caffeine. You roll your eyes. Did he enchant this when you left to get his timetable? What an idiot.

Your attention shifts to the picture next to it, where a pair of dark eyes stare intently up at you. His grin is the same goofy, toothy one he showed you earlier. Just below it: his family history, achievements, address… Just as you let temptation wash over, your eyes dart back up to his picture, a mischievous glint now in his eyes, as if he was daring you to look further. You scoff, even his picture was irritating. You whisper a “Colloportus” and hear it click before shoving the binder into your bag.

The April breeze feels cool on your skin, and as you walk away from the North Tower you feel something else on your skin. You turn swiftly, noticing something perching on the window on the tower. It can’t be… Professor Suh, the Divination teacher HATED the windows being open, something about the strings of the future being broken…or something… Your eyes twitch at the flash of cobalt against the blue against the sky proving your suspicions to be true.

Jaemin’s eyes were on you again, and it felt warm against the wind. His hand waves and his lips curl back into that stupid smile. You sigh, flicking a disapproving hand at his lack of attention to class and turning away before he can gesture to you that Professor Suh had asked him to feel the strings of the future in front of the class because he was the only one who interpreted his tea leaves properly…

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bluebrine · 4 years

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it’s still... odd to me that other people had such different experiences growing up with this series than i did. i had such a personal relationship with it... seeing others talk about the sequels, what they liked and disliked for the series- and it’s like, really? we had very different childhoods (...story of my life, ha).

in my elementary school, our library only had one of the books- Dealing With Dragons (the one with this delightfully cheesy cover by Tim Hildebrandt lol).

(also, please note, there is no indication here that this is the first book of a series. just..... keep that in mind.)

haha, what if 🤭 ..... i was beautiful princess, and you were a dangerously charming dragon 😜 ..... and we were both girls? 😳💦

good god, little me LIVED for this book. i checked it out & reread it over and over again- the librarian must have got sick of me at some point but i didn’t care lol. i stayed up too late reading it with a flashlight under the covers, i read it during class beneath the desk (i was not... particularly stealthy. they kinda just let me think i was getting away with it lmao).

i know every young kid likes books with fantasy and magic to make their boring lives less lame, but the way i buried myself in this one was... 100% pure escapism. (pour one out for all the weird kids who had no friends outside of books, am i right ladies?)

the story has a theme of just..... running away from it all, cause everyone else apparently knows so much more about what’s Right for you- what interests are Right for you, what clothes are Right for you, what boys are Right for you, everything! everything was chosen for you, no dystopian YA lit required!

(CAN YOU POSSIBLY GUESS WHERE THIS IS GOING?)

i didn’t know what the concept of a lesbian was or why no one else thought it was weird that you couldn’t have interests that were Not Like Other People (the Right People), but that’s what this book meant to me. the entire core of the story was showing kids that you could pick your own hobbies, your own home, your own family & friends and it wasn’t up to the Right People to decide that for you.

fuck ‘em!!! run off to the mountains! live in exciting domestic bliss with a giant, well-read, protective dragon lady who can breathe fire and loves to eat your cherries jubilee every night (ABSOLUTELY NO METAPHORS HERE NO SIR)! back home your family is freaking out (but kinda relieved)- cause this is crazy, dragons are dangerous and ruin the women they steal away (where have i heard this before?), but also your family doesn’t... really miss you. they don’t actually want you back- as you were, anyway. once the prince sweeps you off your feet and away from the dragon’s evil clutches and properly marries you, oh sure, then you’re welcome back with open arms! (but that will never happen.)

fuck ‘em!!!!! make cool friends with other misfits and live a life full of adventure with the family you found along the way! there’s witches who live in eccentric homes with 50 cats, there’s neighborly old dragon grandpas who love chocolate pudding, there’s other girls who don’t think you’re weird and like to hang out and read magic books in the library too! you can make friends and be happy! it IS possible!

and that meant so much to me as a kid. i never fit in (i wonder why), i never seemed to like the Right stuff (I WONDER WHY), and for the things i did care about, i went about it wrong- according to the Right People, who didn’t much care about what i thought at all.

...anyway Dealing With Dragons is an allegory about the power of lesbian escapism & independence and i love it very much. i still love it, over a decade later. it’s a fun, captivating, whimsical little tale that means more than childhood nostalgia to me. i spent hours daydreaming about the story in elementary school, content with the characters and setting in a way that just... settled something in me.

but then i read the other books.

because there were... OTHER BOOKS!? WHAT??? (again, i never knew it wasn’t a stand-alone story lol).

when i got to middle school and had a whole new library to consume, i naturally looked for my fav type of books- those with cool fantasy ladies with swords and dragons on the front (that’s a genre, right?). and, lo and behold, there were more parts to my favorite story!!! lads, i lost my goddamn mind. there were THREE MORE? WHAT??? utter batshittery. how had they kept this from me? i had to read them immediately.

what would the stories be about? i saw Cimorene on the covers, sword-wielding and pants-wearing (’fuck yes’, said little me). what adventures would she get up to with Kazul, now that she was king of dragons? what would life in their new home be like? the new libraries and treasuries and kitchens would be massive- what secrets would they discover? what was living in dragon society like, now that they sat at the top together? what new recipes would Cimorene cook with her friend??? (that one was very important to me lol).

i checked out all of ‘em at once, and channeled deep into the obsessive focus that only a truly lonely middle school girl can attain. I was SO EXCITED for this.

-- and got my heart ground to dust under Patricia C. Wrede’s heel.

...because, see, i hadn’t known there was an Enchanted Forest Chronicles. i hadn’t thought about what that actually meant. it, as inevitably as the tides, meant the incoming of the one thing that made me truly hate reading sometimes- romance. cause these books weren’t about Cimorene and her friends or Kazul at all. they were about a sudden love interest and the child Cimorene had with him cause of course that’s what fucking happened. what else was i expecting? what else could stories possibly be about? i read through all of the books, feeling a little more like somebody shot my dog with each chapter, and could only feel sick when she got married & pregnant at the end. i was 11 years old and i knew something was wrong but not why.

(aaand looking back now, was that baby’s first taste of queerbaiting? does it count if you do it to yourself?? ah, youth. i don’t let myself get my hopes up anymore.)

for a very long time, i hated the idea of love (...quite the oxymoron, that one). cause it always, always meant that the people i cared about changed in ways that i didn’t understand at all. what, some boy you’ve never met before shows up, and suddenly your important quest and friends and family are... an after thought? why? don’t you care about them? don’t you love them too? why does this always happen? why is there always a boy and love and babies and nothing else? (why, why, why indeed? and yes, i was one of those kids who got fucking mean when their friends started only looking at boys, how’d you know?)

anyways. i hated it. i couldn’t possibly have articulated why back then, but it always made me so mad, despite the fact that the words on the page were telling me that this was the best thing that could ever happen in life. that just made it worse, cause why am i getting so upset over this? it’s a good thing, objectively- they’re in love. they’re happy. why is it making me feel so fucking angry instead?

this series doesn’t really... deserve any of the repressed vitriol it made me feel, though. Cimorene’s love interest that appeared in book two, Mendanbar, is actually a pretty cool guy! he has an innate, natural connection to his magic forest kingdom. he’s sick of fairy-tale tropes, he has a sweet anti-wizard sword, he’s very kind and brave- and i fucking hated his guts (...lmao, sorry dude).

there’s nothing actually wrong with this series’s romances. the couples care about each other and support each other well. i’m glad for all the kids who got to see some happy romances, i truly am. but god, that wasn’t for me, and it probably wasn’t for the other lonely kids who picked up a book about running away from what the Right People wanted for them either.

for a series about rejecting what society tells you is the Right thing to want, the characters just... end up wanting that exact same thing anyway. oh, the thought of marrying a man and spending your life with him, baring him heirs until you die, sounds unappealing? so distressing, in fact, you’d literally rather get eaten by dragons? WELL DON’T WORRY, this one particular guy is actually good! of course you’ll fall in love with him! you’ll want to be pregnant forever with his horrible frogspawn! you’ll be happy!

...what do you mean this is what you were running away from?

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

i spent... an inordinate amount of time as a child reading Dealing With Dragons. while i cannot possibly blame the author for my individual experience with their work, which WAS written as a series (the finale was written first, actually! way back in 1985), the fact remains that my interactions with them were... soured.

in a way that was out of the author’s hands, really, but i just don’t know how to think about this series without that bittersweet hurt in my chest. i cried like, twice, writing this stupid, rambling essay thing, and i don’t actually know how to look past that. i suppose the tried-and-true method of just... rereading the first book and pretending everything’s fine always works lol.

i own a few different versions of these books. there’s a full set i was gifted later in middle school -the nice glossy ones, with Peter De Seve’s lovely cover art! -which i have never once reread. they’re in immaculate shape, really.

i also own an absolutely, completely beat-to-shit paperback copy of the same version i must have read a hundred times as a kid. its cover is creased and peeling, there’s a bunch of weird stains and rips and dogears, and i adore it. i picked it up this year at a used book place, and every time i look at it i can see some small, desperate kid who doesn’t even know they’re lonely but still curls up around that book again and again.

#personal #long post #dealing with dragons #the enchanted forest chronicles #(which. apparently WASN'T an allegory for lesbian escapism #anyway i was robbed but its fine <3)#ok to reblog

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anari3l · 4 years

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Far Away pt. 2

Pairing: Cullen Bohannon x Reader

Words: 1360

Warnings: Smut ... or an attempt at it

Note: I wrote most of this at the same time I wrote part 1, but never posted it because i didn’t feel like it was good enough. I reread it today, polished off an ending, and decided to post it anyway.

[PART ONE]

You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched Mister Bohannon greet Durant, the Board, and General Grant dressed in his long johns and covered, head to toe, in mud and God knows what else. “What happened?” you asked one of the workers as Cullen’s conversation continued.

“Mule broke its leg,” the man answered, spitting in the dirt, “Bohannon tried to calm it.”

Cullen stared down Durant, the injunction paper held in his hands. “You’re shutting down my railroad?”

The crowd had grown quiet as they watched their boss speak to the ex-owner of the railroad. For a moment, all stood with bated breath.

Durant nodded, a smug smile starting to light his features. “For starters, yes.”

Cullen smirked with a nod, glancing over to the men standing behind Durant and Grant. “Can we at least move the mule first?”

You chuckled as Cullen spoke, the tone of his voice no longer strained from the previous conversation upon Durant’s arrival. As Durant started away with the board and General following behind, you stepped up, taking the paper from Cullen as he met your gaze.

“This is going to be interesting,” you mumbled, looking down to the paper.

Cullen nodded. “All right! Let’s move this,” he started, kneeling back down in the dirt as he started to instruct the men around him.

You stood back, waiting until the mule had been moved off the tracks and a horse had been brought up to replace it. The workers dispersed, heading for the cut, as Cullen trudged up to you.

“You will take a bath, won’t you?” you asked, watching as he tried to wipe mud off his hands and only transferring more from his clothes. “And a good laundering.”

Cullen smirked, removing his hat to run his hand through his hair. “I don’t like this.”

“What? The fact that Durant has shown up out of the blue with the council.”

Cullen nodded, looking over the camp. You followed as he started towards his lodgings, slapping his hat against his thigh to knock off some of the drying mud. “The entire board … General Grant …”

“You’ll figure it out,” you said simply, walking past him to the bucket beside the door, filled with cool rain water. “Come on, then. You can’t meet with the great General Ulysses Grant covered in mud and … possibly shit.”

Cullen’s gaze landed on you. “You are not goin’ to dump that bucket on my head.” He grabbed a jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll wash later,” he added, unclasping his gun belt.

You watched as he removed his belt and boots, nodding your agreement to his words. You waited until he was sitting, turning for his chest and clean clothes, back to you, before dumping the bucket over him.

He stopped, hair hanging over his face, water dripping over the wooden floorboards. You chuckled, stepping around him and setting the bucket down. “I will see you later, then,” you smiled, starting for the door.

“Ah,” Cullen’s voice reached you at the same time his hand grabbed your arm, turning you back to him. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Mister Bohannon, I am afraid I did what any sane woman would do,” you smiled. “You were covered in dirt, in your underwear. That is no way for the head of the Railroad to meet a General.” You lifted onto your tip toes and kissed him. “Behave. Durant knows he needs you for this road.”

***

You lifted your head as a small knock sounded on the outside of your tent. Standing from your bed and placing aside your book, you stepped to the door to find Cullen standing there. “Well, good evening, Mister Bohannon.”

“Stop it,” he scoffed.

“Stop what?”

“The Mister Bohannon thing,” he said, motioning vaguely at your form with his hat. His smile gave him away. He didn’t care. It was something he had found he liked. The sound of his name on your lips.

You smiled, stepping aside to let Cullen enter. “Everything alright? It’s late,” you started, glancing outside as the tent flap closed behind him.

“Perfect time to sneak away from responsibilities,” he groaned as he sank into the wooden chair beside your small table, the movement knocking the candle flickering.

“What would the town say, if they knew their beloved boss snuck into a poor woman’s tent at night?” you smiled, stepping forward to stand between his knees. “They’d think you were up to something.”

“Maybe I am,” he smirked, head tilting back to look up to you.

You leant down, fingers tangling into his shaggy hair as you kissed him. It wasn’t the first time, yet you couldn’t get over the softness, and gentleness, the man possessed when he kissed you. He was rugged, jaded, a stony wall around his heart.

You settled on his knee, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer as the chair beneath him creaked. Your lips mapped a route over his jaw, fingers running over the beard on his cheeks. He shuddered a breath, fingers tightening on your hip, as your lips carried on down his neck.

“You should relax more, Cullen,” you smirked, hot breath ghosting across the skin of his neck as he leaned his head back, giving you more space to move as you laved more kisses across his skin.

He chuckled deep in his throat, and although you didn’t look up to see it, you knew he had a bright smile on his face as he did. “Fine time to relax,” he mumbled. After a few more moments, he tapped his hand against your thigh as he shifted beneath you. “Come on. Up,” he grumbled, reluctantly pushing your weight off his lap so he could stand.

The moment he was up, you were back on him. Fingers found his belt, unfastening the clasp and removing the weapons he always carried on his hips, tenderly placing them aside on the table. Next came the suspenders, which he helped shrug out of only so he could keep his hands on your waist as his own lust had kicked in, his lips finding the bare skin of your neck and chest.

You landed back on the bed as Cullen continued to kiss down your neck. This wasn’t the first time, yet it always felt that way with him. You had known him to be hard around the edges, ruthless in his work, yet in bed, able to kiss away the creases in his brow and make him relax, he was a different person.

He worshipped you, held you as if he would wake in the morning and find you gone. His kisses were passionate, saying words he couldn’t come to express verbally.

Legs around his waist, you sighed into more kisses, his hips moving against yours. The small bed creaked with every hitch of his hips.

He finished with a shaky breath into the crook of your neck, your own end matching his, sending a wave of calmness through your limbs as Cullen’s form rested over you. You relaxed under his weight, fingers trailing through his long hair. “It is okay for you to rest,” you hummed, relishing in the deep exhale Cullen released at your words, as if he was exhaling the weight of the entire week.

He sighed, pushing up on his elbows and rolling to the side, pulling the thin blanket over the two of you. Fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose, he lay there for a moment.

You sighed, rolling into his side. “The men are fed, we’ve got water, and work has continued on without a hitch since the Credit Mobilier Board came to town,” you started, brushing your hand through his hair as you laid beside him. “It is okay for you to rest. You don’t have to work yourself into a grave.”

Dropping his hand, he looked up to you, letting a smile grow on his features slowly. Outside of your tent, the nighttime sounds of camp drifted on the cool air. “I can’t let this fail.”

“You won’t,” you smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

#cullen bohannon x reader #reader insert #hell on wheels fanfic

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luthien-t · 4 years

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The Sun Will Shine. (Chapter:2)

Summery: Thanos invaded the asgardians ship & Thor called for back up. Being a liable paramedic, you gather your tools and went to space. You end up being injured during battle but Thanos was defeated, what will you do when you find out your lover, Loki suffered more than just a few battle scars? But then again, no one is ever really gone.

Chapter Summery: You left the hospital with the news of Lokis death. The first night in the Tower seems quite until you found a book between Lokis other favorite books.

warnings: Im not entirely sure, but this is one is kinda sad. small panic attack? and swear words i think.

wordcount: 2.4K+

Getting out of the car, you breathe in and walk towards the elevator in the tower to get to your compound floor. You pressed the button on the elevator and sighed. Tony tapped his fingers against his thigh with his eyes glued on the number going up towards the floor. “We made it, safe and sound” He smiled and looked at you before walking out of the elevator. You nodded lightly and gave him a smile back, even though you felt like complete utter shit, Tony has helped you the past two days ever since Thor walked out from that hospital room, he has been kind to you and it didn’t feel as lonely as you expected it to be.

“Tony, Thank-“

“ah ah ah, no need to thank me, we’re a family, we will always look after each other!” He gave your shoulder a soft pat and angled his head towards the kitchen. “They’ve made food, join us?” He said with hope in eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say yes. Ever since you received the news, you wanted nothing but to be alone. So, you shook your head. He frowned and then nodded his head. “We’ll leave your food in the microwave for later, get some rest, y/n” And with that he walked towards the kitchen.

You sighed and slowly walked towards your shared bedroom with Loki. Once you’ve reached the door, your hands began to tremble and your breathing was getting heavier. The closer your hand got to the knob, the more it trembled and with a deep breath you open the door and scan the room quickly before covering your mouth and closing the door behind you.

You shut your eyes, maybe if you keep them closed you won’t cry, you lean against the door. It was getting harder to calm down when every time you breathe in you also inhale his scent.

“Why did you have to fucking leave me?” You curse at the empty room.

Silence.

Silence was all you have now in this room. No more morning kisses, no more late night cuddles, no more arguing, no more Loki.

You sniff as you walk around, trying to adjust with this wide space. The chambers were always fit for one person, it was just a bed, a couch for two, a walk in closet, a desk & a bathroom. But now it felt like it was too big, too empty.

Looking around at the mini library you installed and smile through the tears, not being able to see; you caressed the books softly and then sat down on the desk, looking out the window.

When Loki first came to the compound, it was difficult for both him and the rest of the team.

Your first encounter with the God of Mischief was during a meeting before a small mission about a random Hydra base.

“What is he doing here?” You said, venom dripping from your words.

“Darling, I’m asking the same question myself. What am I doing here?” He smirked at you, scanning your reaction. It always felt like he could see through you. “Lady y/n! I see you met my brother Loki!” He smiled wide. “Adopted.” Loki budged in, with a finger pointed up. You nodded slowly and looked between the two brothers before going to your seat next to Nat. Loki however, kept his eyes on you almost the entire meeting, every time you look back at him, he pretends to be looking at something else.

You stare at the buildings and the glowing lights in each one as you replay your memories in your head. The tears never stopped, it was hard to believe that the man you love is no longer here to hold you. A knock made you turn your body towards the door. “Can I come in?” It was Wanda. You sniff and shrug.

“I don’t have the energy for anything, so do what you want.” And with that you turn your back to her and stare out the window. She sat down next to you and rested her hand on your knee, looking at you. “When I lost Pietro, I felt the same. Like a piece of me died” She looked out the window, giving you privacy when she noticed how your brows furrowed and your eyes swelling with tears again.

“I’m not saying that you are going to move on, but-“ you shook your head and rested your head on her shoulder. “I don’t need words, Wanda. I need him back.”

“In Romania, we believe that death is just the second step, wherever he is, y/n. I believe that he is okay” she whispered softly.

You replied with a sniff as your body shook. She wrapped her arm around you as she slowly swayed you both. “Sleep in my room tonight?” You look up at her, unable to process that the bed is going to be empty without Loki, you saw her stare at the view, maybe she was thinking about how to turn down your offer or tell you that you have to do this on your own, but she then responded with a soft smile and a nod. “Okay, I’ll go change quickly and get you something to eat” She unwrapped her arms and got up to leave the room.

You get off the desk and roam around the room, grabbing a random book from Lokis side, it was dusty; Which is odd, considering Loki cared for his books too much to allow a single spec of dust. You scanned the book then looked at the others, this was the only one dusty, as if it wasn’t touched for ages. You open the book and realize that it is actually a journal. Lokis had a journal? The words were written in his handwriting. You start reading the first three words and your heart beats faster.

If I die, my love.

You look around the room, biting your lips. Closing the book and reopening it to the same words, maybe you were imagining things, you told yourself. Maybe it’s just a poem, but as you read a few more words.

If I die, do not believe them. I am here, near.

Waiting for you.

You know me like no other, my love. I always have my plans and tricks against the titan.

Your throat feels dry and you sit on the bed, looking at the door as Wanda walked in with her pillow & a tray of food, her smile dropping when she noticed your face was drained of color and your mouth open.

“What is it?” She approached you slowly.

“He’s not dead.” You look up at her.

“Loki? Did you see him?” You shook your head and pointed at the book.

She eyed you and then looked at the book. “y/n…” She sat down on the bed in front of you. “No, Wanda listen to me” You read her the words and she nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry but, but this doesn’t mean anything.” She said as she twirled a finger around a strand of her, a habit she tends to do when she’s nervous, you notice and nod.

“You’re right, I’m making a big deal, it’s probably just a poem.” You say, sarcastically. “A poem that somehow talks about him dying and mentions of Thanos!”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Y/n, please don’t overwork yourself now, you need to rest. If Loki is planning on messing with you now, at least allow it when you’re healthy” She frowned and put a hand on the book, you look down at her hand and then back up at her, nodding “You’re right, I’m sorry” You close the book and put it on your night stand then pull the tray towards you. “Thank you, Wanda” She smiles at you and moves to sit next to you on the bed before turning on Netflix. “Anything for my sister” Now it was your turn to smile.

You spent the rest of the night watching Netflix, Nat came by to check up on you and decided to join you two, the night was filled with binge-watching & jokes about dumb scenes in the movies. You ended up falling asleep halfway through the fourth movie.

Your sleep was interrupted by a soft thud next to you, slowly opening your eyes and turn your head towards the sound, raising an eyebrow when you find it to be the journal. Looking back at Wanda & Nat then back at the book, you slowly sat up and grabbed it, not wanting to wake them up. You then got out of bed and walked out of your room towards the balcony in the living room, it was dark & quiet, not a single soul was awake. 3:43AM. You noticed the time and sat down on the chair, staring at the buildings again, your heart beating faster when you opened the book, too scared to read the words again, as if it’ll disappear and the small grain of hope you have will extinguish.

You push yourself to look down at the page & reread the same words again, sighing in relief as you continued to read, leaning back down on the chair with your legs up on the table.

If I die, my love.

If I die, do not believe them. I am here, near.

Waiting for you.

You know me like no other, my love. I always have other plans and tricks against the titan.

I always knew that he would be defeated, the titan was driven by his own imagination that he lost his grip on reality.

Now tell me, my love. Do you remember the list we had about the places I have promised to take you to? It’s where I wait.

You flip the page, furrowing your eyebrows. Of course you remember that list, he made you write down every place you wanted to visit so that he can take you there himself. You bite your lips, you don't know where he put that paper, you wrote it almost a year ago. That list had over 50 places written on it, he could be anywhere. “What are you doing to me, Loki?” You whisper to yourself. This was starting to feel like it’s some stupid treasure hunt and you were growing frustrated the more you read. It was filled with numbers and codes.

You sigh and close the journal, your feet leading you to Thors room. Hesitant, you knock on the door softly. You give it a few more seconds. There was no response so you walk away, and as you took a sharp turn towards your room, you bump into someone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there” You say.

“y/n.” It was Thor. You look up at him and smile slightly, “Can’t sleep?” You say and notice the drink in his hand, frowning slightly, he just shuffled in his place and gave you a stiff nod.

“I want to apologize for my behaviour back in the hos-“

“Thor, it’s okay. But we need to talk- it's about your brother” You hand him the book and he raises an eyebrow slightly before walking towards the living room. “What is this about?” He said as he sat down, knowing that you followed him to the living room.

“He’s not… you know” You sit down next to him and point at the book. He chuckled and looked at you only to stop when he noticed the serious look on your face and cleared his throat. He set the book down on the table, staring at it, waiting for something to happen to it. “This is his journal Thor.” You say with an annoyed tone before you could stop yourself. You know Loki always loved to mess around with Thor when they were kids, so you knew he was probably expecting Loki to jump out of the book or something.

“Yeah of course, why- why would the journal be Loki? That’s not what I thought” He said with his voice slightly a pitch higher & laughed softly. “How do you know he is not dead?” His tone changed to serious and he set the drink on the table next to it. You ran a hand through your hair and shrug. “It’s as if he’s telling me where he is hiding, but it’s just filled with riddles and numbers and I need help translating some words.” You look at him, hoping that he would understand what you’re asking from him without having to say what it is that you want. He shook his head softly and leaned back on the couch, opening the book and reading it.

“Those letters and runes are in Juton, I cant speak Jotun…” He looks at you quickly before looking back and flipped the pages quickly, scanning some words with his eyes before shutting the book. “Look, Loki is… Well, if he really wanted you to find him, he wouldn’-“ Your groan stops him. “Thor, please, even if I’m wrong in this, I just want to know” You shrug “What do I have to lose?” He stares at the drink ahead of him and nods gently. “I’m sorry but I can’t help you with this, it seems as if he is making this harder for the both of us, since I cant understand a single word he wrote. Both Juton and english, he is asking you to find him, not me” You can hear the hurt in his words and nod, apologising for this conversation.

Thor is mourning his brothers loss and you’re over here trying to force him to do something he can’t do. But you are determined on understanding every word Loki wrote in this journal, with or without anyones help. You excused yourself and went to your room, slowly walking in and looked around, you looked at the girls and smiled softly and then walked towards your closet, grabbing as many clothes as you can and quietly put them in a bag and then went to the desk, you took half of Lokis books and put them in the bag and then softly laid on the bed, scrolling through your phone for apartments for rent.

Tomorrow, you were planning on leaving this Tower to understand whatever is going on around you. You love everyone in this Tower and they all mean so much to you but you want to be alone and it feels like this is the only way to achieve it.

#loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odison x reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinsdottir #loki fic #loki imagine

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otterlydeerlightful · 4 years

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Loki/Tony for 14 and 70 from the AU list!!!

Bodyguard AU + Locked in a Room

Forgive any awful typos...this one ended up having a mind of its own and I’m too lazy to reread it atm lol! Sorry it takes me forever to write stuff

Loki had never liked the idea of having a bodyguard on their trips to visit the dignitaries of the other Realms. As far as he was concerned, it was a sign of weakness that implied he was unable to defend himself. It was offensive, and the mischief-maker wouldn’t stand for it…which is why the second prince’s bodyguards never lasted very long. None of them could endure Loki’s tricks and frustratingly frequent escapes of their guard. None of his father’s pathetic appointments had been able to handle him. That was, not until his latest barnacle was assigned to him before his latest trip to Alfheim.

Loki was used to mentally hollow suits of armor hovering over his every action with a disapproving scowl. But Anthony was not like his previous bodyguards. Against all odds, in spite of all of Loki’s attempts to ditch the guard and slip away into the alien city, Anthony’s eyes never lost their sparkle. He, in fact, complimented many of Loki’s rouses upon the prince’s return. He had even found Loki in the streets no less than three times in the past week. No one had done that before, either. Nor would they have acted like nothing was wrong and chat Loki’s ear off like an old friend. And, in spite of the fact that Anthony’s mouth rarely seemed to stop, the continuous stream of consciousness at least informed Loki that the guard at least had a decent brain beneath all the usual armor.

Upon his latest return from sight-seeing, his fourth successful escape from under Anthony’s nose since their arrival, Loki was greeted by the sound of shouting. He clung to the shadows and listened to the Allfather rip into what turned out to be his poor bodyguard for Loki’s latest disappearance. Anthony said little in his defense as he stood at attention, even when his king threatened to strip him not only of his position, but his status as an Asgardian noble and all the advantages of being such, if he didn’t rein in his troublesome son.

Loki’s bodyguard was harshly dismissed and Anthony quietly made his way down the hall toward the prince’s room, presumably to await his return.

“For a man whose tongue hardly knows the meaning of rest, you seem to be lacking in the ability to defend yourself.”

Anthony spun around at the sound of Loki’s voice and, much to the mage’s surprise, smiled brightly when he laid eyes on his charge.

“Prince Loki! You’re back.”

“I am,” he replied with a narrowed gaze. ��I don’t usually hear those words in such an upbeat tone, particularly after the person in question has just been threatened by the Allfather himself due to my involvement…or in this case, lack thereof.”

Anthony didn’t seem bothered by the situation in the slightest.

“Then I am glad that I could offer a change of pace,” his bodyguard laughed with a cheery grin. “I trust that you had a good afternoon? Any fires I should know about?”

Loki didn’t answer. The man’s reaction made no sense, and he couldn’t figure out what the guard’s ulterior motive could possibly be.

As it turned out, the second prince had little time to consider the conundrum. The familiar clomping of Odin’s footfalls echoed down the hall and Anthony immediately sprung into action. He lunged forward and grabbed Loki’s arm with a desperate look on his eyes that darted about the room.

“In here, quick!” The man pulled the prince toward the nearest door, yanking it open and thrusting him inside. Anthony spun around and closed it quickly behind him. “I don’t want to think about what he might do if he finds you right now. It’s best to let him simmer for a while before you make an appearance.”

Loki stared at the back of Anthony’s head. The guard must have felt it, because he slowly turned to look up at him.

“Why are you so concerned with my wellbeing over your own?” Loki pried in a quiet voice.

“I’m…your bodyguard, your, uh, your highness.”

“Yes, but I don’t believe your duties extend to protecting me from our own king,” the mage pointed out.

Instead of answering, Anthony shushed him—his prince—and went still as the sound of the Allfather and his escorts passed them outside. The man didn’t move again until the hallway fell silent again. Loki just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well?”

Anthony swallowed, somehow looking more nervous now than he had while facing down the threat of Odin’s punishment. Loki frowned while he studied the nervousness in his guard’s eyes. It was strange to see Anthony without a smile on his face. Anthony always smiled…at least, he always seemed to do so in Loki’s presence.

Ah…

“It’s just, that, well…your, uh…” He was clearly struggling. “My…my job is to protect you. As far as I’m concerned, protecting your image falls within that realm. And….shit.”

Loki offered only a noncommittal hum, curious to see what the man would so next. Apparently, the answer was panic. Anthony pushed on the door. Then, he pushed on it again. With a few more bangs and jiggling of the handle, the man began to look a little sick.

“Uh….hang on.”

He tried the door again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. And Anthony was beginning to tremble.

“Sorry! Sorry, we’ll…we’ll get….oh, Norns, we need to get out…”

“Anthony?”

The man didn’t seem to hear him. “Ned to get out. Norns, let us….” His guard’s breathing was quickly growing erratic. “Can’t….can’t be trapped, not again….not again…”

That was enough. Loki laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and promptly Stepped them to his quarters. Anthony looked around in shock at their change of scenery for a moment before looking up at Loki in astonishment.

“Better?”

He ran a hand down his goatee and glanced around again. His breathing was already better.

“Y-yeah. I…what did you just do?”

“I brought us to my room, Anthony,” Loki answered with a cheeky grin. “I had thought you were clever enough to figure out at least that much.”

“But we were just…the door was locked and now we’re…” He tuned to look at Loki again. “Thank you. I…have a problem with being trapped in…close quarters.”

“I noticed.”

His bodyguard quickly recovered from his admission. Hands on his hips, he again considered their new surroundings. Anthony eventually chucked and shook his head. “Norns, no wonder you keep disappearing from right under my nose!” Much to Loki’s surprise, Anthony barked out a laugh. “How could I compete with this? Incredible…”

That was his reaction? Loki shook his head and sat himself on a chaise lounge to observe his companion and ask “You never did answer my question.”

“Huh?”

Ah, yes, there was the Anthony he knew: always ready to move onto the next topic when presented with shiny new information.

“Why were you more concerned with Odin’s reaction to my presence than you were to your own punishment for failing in your assigned duties?”

“Oh, uh…well…I just…didn’t want your father to find you when he was already upset.”

“But you were fine standing before the Allfather and enduring his rage, it seems.”

Anthony swallowed.

“And he was only angry due to your inability to properly babysit his troublesome son,” he pointed out. “Yet you were happy to see me upon my return. Happy. Not angry, nor even relieved for your own sake, but happy.”

The room was silent for a few moments before Loki decided it might be fun to fill it with his own observations that he had not pieced together until that moment.

“You are never cross with my actions. You seek me out for conversation. You compliment my seiðr. You pay attention when I speak, and, perhaps the most impossible, you do all of this while clearly not wanting to be a guard of any capacity. So I ask you again, Anthony: why?”

The man shifted his weight and looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I…know it isn’t proper for a guard to be, well, friendly with his charge. Not…professional, as my father would say. But…but just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean either of us had to be…miserable with our partnership…right?”

“…Friends.”

Anthony looked away, suddenly looking much smaller than Loki had ever seen him. In spite of his every rebuff and escape, Anthony was always happy to see him, to be with him. Given the intensity of Odin’s earlier anger, he had no doubt endured multiple verbal lashings before today to earn such threats. Yet, Anthony never gave any outward sign that they had occurred. He had even covered for Loki multiple times, if those who would ask if the price’s stomach upset had subsided after a skipped event would have him believe. Anthony was saying that he would like friendship, but his actions seemed to be yearning for something more.

Loki got up and approached the guard. Anthony looked nervous.

“Odin is…no doubt still angry that you had let me out of your sights once again…yes?”

Anthony stared at him. “Yeah.”

“Then it stands to reason that you could easily improve your standing in the Allfather’s eyes by…making sure that I no longer escape your watch.”

The guard was eyeing him now, clearly beginning to read the meaning between Loki’s words.

“I found a lovely garden earlier today,” Loki said with a smile. “I suspect it is spectacular during a sunset…but it may be unsafe for a foreign royal to walk the grounds alone at such a late hour.”

Anthony’s brown eyes were wide with unbelieving astonishment. “It…sounds like you might benefit from having a bodyguard.”

“I believe you might be right.” A strange warmth spread through the mage’s chest as the other man’s signature smile quickly returned with fervor. “Shall we?”

“Do we get to do that...magic traveling thing again?”

Loki let out a light chuckle at that. “Oh course,” he said as he offered his hand.

Moments later, the room was again empty.

#prompts #fanfiction #Frostiron

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angelic-holland · 5 years

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Alice’s 4k Fic Rec List

Wow! I wanted to thank each and every one of my followers for putting up with me! As a little thank you I wanted to put together this fic rec list of some of my favorite fics. Feel free to send in your own fics and I’ll read as many as I can in my spare time. This is by no means a comprehensive list of fic recs but some of my absolute favorites! My little feedback paragraphs include some spoilers so feel free to skip over them when checking out the fics!

Peter Parker x Reader

Three Words by @screamholland

Yeah this tore me to pieces! I remember reading it and crying and being like “why must angst hurt me this way” and now I’m addicted to writing angst. The way he looked at you made you feel like a masterpiece displayed in a museum. Yeah! Need Peter Parker to look at me like that. The innocence and beauty of someone’s first love is precious, so fucking precious.

Band Ten Heart by @robbinholland

This fic is just SO cute. Peter being a fumbling dork is what I live for. The reader describing the cliches of band kid dating tropes hysterical! “Peter Parker, I’m really glad you didn’t quit.” Oh my GOD I squealed when I read that. Clarinet players have talented tongues??? I fucking lost it. Total cute feel good story even though I have no idea how band works, it’s still fucking adorable.

Quantum Heartbreak by @farfromhaz

The title is very very accurate. This fic tore my soul to pieces as I read it. Peter realizing he was gone for three years instead of hours, Peter realizing he has a daughter, the reader having to raise her alone for the first few years, wow that HURTED. But!!! The reader telling Peter she’s pregnant and Peter being so excited about raising his second kid. So bittersweet, absolutely amazing.

When Peter’s Not Such a Good Boy by @marvelouspeterparker

Oh my god! I have never wanted to dom someone so much. Like the idea of teasing peter is sending me to an astral plane of existence. There are no words to describe how super hot this is. I read this at least once a week. No fucking joke.

Tom Holland x Reader

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves by @wazzupmrstark

Wow I’ve been reading this series for a LONG time and I’m so in awe of it. It’s so precious, seeing the reader and Tom fall in love. I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers/being forced to work with someone who is a pain in the ass and then finding out they’re secretly a softie. Tom and the reader having those little room service dates? God I lived for it. When they went to the pool at the roof of the hotel oof I lost my MIND. This series is god tier and if you only read one Tom series in your life let it be this one.

Win-Win by @hillsnholland

Making Tom jealous? Oh god I would thrive in that environment. I want that so bad it’s ridiculous. The jealous sex that ensues, hot as fuck! Spanking??? Toms hands were absolutely made for that, there is not enough time to discuss how nice his hands are. Him calling you princess and making you beg for it? Yeah sign me the fuck up! Is there a wait list? I will wait all day.

Instagram Live by @xoluvx

Tom!!!! Is a grandpa when it comes to technology. This is totally something that idiot would do. Harrison and Zendaya being the cheeky little shits that they are! Hysterical. Plus the smut is hot as fuck. Like i don’t care if the whole world can hear me I just want Tom to dick me down

Kiss Currency by @madmadmilk

Wow wow wow. First off, Jacky always writes something so incredibly special, like her ability to write inner monologues/thoughts that feel so real and raw? Amazing. I was on the edge of my seat every second while reading this fic. i see “ah clueless idiots in love” and I’m like my kind of story. “I don’t want to see you kissing other people, Babe” duh!!! Reader!!! Ma’am! He likes you!!! anyways this was really cute story and I loved every single little detail from the themed parties to the awkwardness of trying to get a read of a person before admitting to them how you feel. It’s beautiful.

You Again by @strangertingle

Oof this series has me fucking anxious! Every time I get the notif that it’s updated I’m like “eek!” I love the idea that Tom went to California to see about transferring to be with the reader and then through a series of unfortunate events, that didn’t happen. And now here they are! And the reader is like woah maybe I do love Tom imma tell him then BAM! Just kidding! He’s getting married and his fiancée is a schemer! This was the cutest series ever ahhhh

Weekend Getaway by @naturallytom / @hauntedtom

Oof when Ally asked someone to read it I jumped at the chance because I’ve always loved her work. Anyways I adore spooky stuff. I was so fucking terrified the entire time and I loved the fluff to tension to absolute terror to relief Ally built in this story. Just downright amazing.

Up To Your Mouth by @gyllenwh0re

Wow Alex just knows how to hit every single kink that she could possibly think of in this fic. My jaw was dropped the entire time reading it. Honestly she writes the best most filthy smut on this goddamn website and I always feel so blessed when she posts things because they fuel my wellbeing

Camera Work by @screamsbytom

Shit I’ve never wanted to make a sex tape so bad. Also Tom being a dumbass and uploading it to the cloud where everyone can see it? Peak chaotic dumbass Tom and it’s 100% something he would do. Tom wanting you hear you moan for him and beg him? Yeah sir I will gladly do just that

You Up? By @thirsttrapholland

Christ! Fuckboy!tom gets me every time. When he goes and just helps himself to beer I’m like !!! I wanna suck his dick !!! Idk why but Tom being a little asshole but a total softie at heart is such a turn on. Anyways!!!! Lying about missing him even when you really really did? To protect your feelings? Felt that! Nobody likes getting their feelings hurt!

I Only Feel You by @stuckonspidey

Whew! This fic was absolutely beautifully amazing and devastating. It was so well written, I adore soulmate AUs and this was something else in the best way possible. Like the way the reader was hesitant to join the Holland mob at first, then slowly became okay with it. The push and pull of knowing Tom is her soulmate but being like “I don’t want to put myself in danger” and then deciding she’d ultimately do anything for the person she has grown to love. Wowza! I cant get enough of this fic I try to reread it often.

Goodnight n go by @honeymoonparker

Eek! Looking at the stars with Tom? Biggest goal in life for me tbh. I love the sky and the stars and kissing him underneath the stars? Sign me up for that good shit! Both of them being like aha yeah we’re totally friends aha unless? 👀 too funny I love clueless idiots who have a thing for each other. It’s great. It’s cute, sweet adorable heartwarming I legit read it and go “awwww” every single time.

It’s Official by @dahliaspidey

Fake dating with Tom? Yes! Clueless idiots in love again? Sign me up! When he gave the reader that bouquet of flowers? Yeah gimme that type of love my dude! Him fumbling over telling the reader how beautiful she is? We love slightly anxious Tom that loves someone but can’t put it in words quickly enough.

Polo and Prosecco by @keepingupwiththeparkers

Omg this was fucking great. I too do not understand polo but would freely participate for the booze. “You are not getting come on this dress” I YELLED. Because yeah I feel like that would be a bitch to get out??? Also sitting on Tom’s knee/lap yeah sign me up. Katie always writes Tom as such a passionate lover and I feel it in my very soul.

Lingerie by @mcuspidey

Okay so when is Tom going to buy me expensive lingerie so I can show him??? But seriously lmfao this was so precious and Tom just praising his gal? Yeah sign me UP.

“tattooing all of his favorite curves- that even the lingerie didn’t show off quite as well as his own memory did- with the love that you deserved.” Yeah yeah yeah please I’m here for that I deserve that. Anyways fluffy hot hot stuff

Harrison Osterfield x reader

Side Effect by @darlingosterfield

I generally don’t read fics with Harrison as the main, like ever. But this series has me hooked! Absolutely hooked! The dynamic between the two of them, the way the reader just really wants to do the god damn assignment but Harrison is a little shit! But he’s also lowkey a big softie. Anyways it’s so beautifully written and I can’t wait to read the rest of it

#fic rec #fic rec list #tom holland #peter parker

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