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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Caffeine Rush: Chapter One / Americano

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Working a dull December morning shift, you meet a seemingly disgraced DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña.

Warnings: Language, talk of death and canon-typical Narcos violence

W/C: 2.3k

A/N: YOU GUYS i am so excited to share this story with you all!! i fuckin love Javi and coffee so this features my two favorite things! big thanks as always to my beta readers for helping me out- especially with chapter 2 (which i was stuck on for 3 weeks lol). I hope you guys enjoy! this story has some twists I don’t think y’all are gonna see coming ;) I’m planning to update this fic once a week! I just wanted to get chapter one out there :)

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Americano: espresso and hot water; has a similar taste to a brewed coffee, but still darker and more caffeinated thanks to the espresso.

Work is blissfully slow on weekdays, allowing you to putz along at your own speed. Today, however, is boring as hell. You’d had approximately seven customers since the morning rush, meaning about seven drinks to make. There weren’t even tables to clean, no customers having sat in the cozy coffeeshop. You and your coworker had joked around, swept and mopped, and cleaned the espresso machines twice each.

At this point, with nothing else to do, you sipped your third peppermint mocha while perched atop two stacked milk crates, leafing through your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It was a common occurrence when evening rolled around, but rarely so early in the day. Since you were the one on barista duty, Mandy kept watch for customers and allowed you to relax with your book. It was routine for the two of you. She mindlessly fusses with the product wall and the coffee grinder, cleaning everything for the third time.

The door opens and you pop up from your makeshift chair excitedly. The weather is blustery and cold, with heavy snowflakes starting to fall outside the large windows, and the man who enters is pulling his jacket tight around himself. He looks up and you quickly dodge behind the espresso machines before you can make eye contact. It’s instinctual, and you’re unsure why until your brain reminds you of the man’s face. He’s handsome, even though you got maybe a second’s look at him. Dark brown hair and a neatly trimmed mustache, eyes an even darker shade to complement his tanned skin.

You bite your lip and grab a large ceramic mug, bringing it to the espresso machine. No one would be crazy enough to order a cold drink in this weather. Mandy takes his order and a few seconds later, his receipt pops up through the printer at your end of the shop:

Ticket 114 - 12/3/93

Name: Javier

LG-Redeye

!memo: darkroast

Javier. The name suits the man, you think to yourself and smile as you begin prepping the espresso for his drink. As you walk to Mandy’s station to fill the mug with drip coffee, she smiles and nudges your side. “Isn’t he cute?” She murmurs. You look at the printed ticket then at the coffee warmers: there’s no dark roast.

“Very,” you giggle a little and fill the mug with light instead. He’s seated in the corner. “I call dibs,” you tease, and Mandy shakes his head. She’s married, but she knows your type, and it’s exactly the man sitting there, staring at a newspaper.

“Yeah, okay,” she shakes her head but smiles at you. “No wedding ring either. I think you should bring his drink to him instead of calling out the order.”

Staring down at the filling mug, you shake your head. “We’ll see,” you chuckle softly and return down to your end of the bar, pouring the two shots of espresso. “Javier?” You call in your barista voice, and the man lifts his head and walks to the bar.

“That’s me,” he says, a small begrudging smile on his face.

“Hi,” you chuckle and hold up the mug. “We’re out of dark roast right now, so I had to use light. Could I put some flavoring or cream or sugar in there for you?” You offer. “Otherwise, I can most definitely make you something else. An americano maybe?”

He pauses for a second. “Yeah, an americano would be great,” he nods. “What kind of flavors… are there?” he asks.

“Oh, we have a ton,” you say enthusiastically, grabbing the syrup rack and pulling it your way. “Any of these. Hazelnut, vanilla, raspberry,” you smile, rattling off the flavors, “otherwise we also have caramel and any flavor of chocolate.”

Javier raises an eyebrow as he looks at the small display. “Never been somewhere with so many options. Could I do dark chocolate and cream?” He asks, and you nod.

“Of course,” you tell him, dumping the previous mug and grabbing another. “I’ll have that right up for you. You can head back to where you were sitting,” you inform him.

He shakes his head. “I can wait here. Save us both a trip.”

You nod. “Sure,” you say with a smile, prepping more espresso. “The redeye and americano are pretty different in caffeine though, the americano is going to have more since there’s more espresso.”

“I just need as much caffeine as I can get. Tough day ahead,” he nods.

“I’ve been told bartenders and baristas are wonderful ears to listen,” you offer, a sweet smile on your face.

His guard has fallen like a wrecking ball through a house of cards at the way you smile. “Well, I’m with the DEA.” It feels strange, openly admitting that around here. Colombians weren’t exactly welcoming to American agents, but it felt like citizens around here saw them as some kind of superhero.

Your eyes light. “Shouldn’t it be a fantastic day for you then?” you ask. “I mean, it’s all over the news. Escobar. Do you know the guys in the photo?” You ask with excitement in your voice.

He nods. Escobar was killed yesterday, and it’s all over the news, including the paper back at his table. “Yeah. The blonde guy in the red shirt is actually my work partner. It’s a tough day because I didn’t get to be there when it happened. I’ve been down in Colombia for years now, and they catch Escobar two days after I leave.”

The smile on your face turns to a frown. “That’s… awful,” you nod, eyes full of sadness for him. “I’m so sorry. At least it must be nice to be home?” you ask, tilting your head slightly and pouring the espresso shots into the mug.

He shakes his head. “D.C. isn’t home. I’m from Texas,” he admits, and the way he speaks finally registers as a slightly slowed speech pattern from the area. “I’m happy for Steve though. The blonde one, my partner. He deserves it. We’ve been down there for… Jesus,” he sighs and looks at the ceiling as he counts the years, “well, a while now. Couple of years. I fucked up, bad. Honestly, I think I’m up here to get fired.”

You frown slightly as you pump the chocolate into the hot espresso and water, swirling it around with a spoon. “You worked on Escobar for years?” you ask, and Javier nods. “Well, then I personally doubt you’d be getting fired. You guys just caught him, everyone must be in a good mood. I guess it depends on how bad you fucked up,” you shrug as you tap the spoon into the sink and bend down to grab the cream.

“I… do you know who Los Pepes are?” he asks. You shake your head as you stand, pouring some cream into the steaming drink. “Well, they’re a radical group who did some crazy shit to try to weaken Escobar, and I got involved with them. I have a meeting today with the review board.”

You finally make eye contact with him, wincing for him. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound great,” you admit with a chuckle, putting the cream back in the little refrigerator beneath you.

“It’s not.”

“It’s not necessarily why you got called up here,” you shrug and grab a saucer, putting the mug on top of it and on the bar for him to take.

“Well, I don’t know, I suppose,” he agrees and takes the drink from you.

You shrug. “Best of luck, Javier,” you tell him with a genuine smile of encouragement.

He nods, looking at your name tag attached to your apron. He murmurs your name before looking back up at your face and into your eyes. “Thank you.” He takes his drink and returns to his table, and you sigh and return to your makeshift chair in the corner.

Mandy pulls up two crates next to you, sitting down across from you with gleaming eyes. “Did it go well? You two talked for a while,” she asks, raising her eyebrows and encouraging you to tell her more.

“A little, but just… how I would with anyone, I guess,” you shrug as you sip your mocha for a moment, drinking the last of the warm coffee. “Not like I got his number or anything.”

“He’s sitting down to drink his coffee. Go offer him a refill when he’s done.”

“That would require me to stare at him, Mandy, and I think he’d notice that,” you shake your head as you stand to make yourself a new drink.

She stands with you, pushing the crates out of the way. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you. I’ll signal to you when he’s done or getting low on coffee, and you can bring him a refill. How does that sound?” she asks you.

You nod with a sigh. “Since you’re apparently not going to let this go, fine. I will.”

Mandy claps her hands together excitedly. “Yay!” She sings. “Oh, will you make me a drink while you’re at it? I’ll have a-”

“Skim hazelnut latte with no foam and light whip,” you recite before she can finish her order.

“You’re a babe,” she sings and heads over to clean the tables that haven’t even been touched since she wiped them an hour ago.

You make her drink and set it aside, then work on your own, fourth coffee. The peppermint and the coffee swirl together deliciously in the air, fitting the weather and the time of year. It’s December, and the snow outside and the warm feeling from the man across the coffee shop contrast in your heart. You sneak glances at him a couple of times, biting your lip to hold back a smile as you admire the handsome face peeking above the newspaper he reads.

About ten minutes later, you look up from cleaning the machines to see Mandy tucked behind a wall where he can’t see her. She’s frantically waving at you, pointing towards Javier once she catches your attention. Go, she mouths excitedly, beaming at you.

You wipe your hands on your apron and walk to where she stands. “Fine, I will, but you’re making the drinks if anyone else comes in.”

“Oh no, how will I handle it?” She asks in a deadpan, eyeing the shop that’s empty except for the two of you and Javier. “Go,” she says, giving you a light shove and giggling.

You shake your head but walk over, placing a hand lightly on the table. “Coffee’s looking low. Could I get you a refill?” you offer.

Javier looks up at you, and you feel like turning to jelly as you look into his big brown eyes, filled with confusion but also admiration. He furrows his brow, creating small creases between his eyebrows. “Uh… sure. How much is it?” he asks, reaching for his wallet and setting down the newspaper.

You put a hand on his arm, giving a gentle smile. “You need it. It’s on the shop,” you tell him.

“No, seriously, what, like $5?” he asks, but you put a hand over his.

“No, Javier,” you chuckle lightly. “Don’t worry about it. Another americano with chocolate and cream?” you ask.

“Uh… make me whatever you like best. And bring one for yourself too.” He says, well, really asks, nodding to the empty chair across from him. “It’s not too busy to talk, is it?”

You swallow hard before you break into a grin. “No, not at all. Uh… do you like peppermint?” you ask.

“Peppermint is good,” he says, giving you a small smile.

“Perfect,” you smile softly at him, picking up his empty mug and saucer. “We have a peppermint mocha, it’s seasonal. It’s my favorite, I’ll be right back with them,” you say, giggling softly and biting your lip as you turn and walk back to the bar.

You’re hidden behind the espresso machines as you finally grin and giggle, and Mandy rushes to your side. “Oh my God,” she laughs happily. “He’s so hot. What were you guys talking about?”

“He asked me to sit with him,” you giggle excitedly, preparing four espresso shots.

She nearly squeals with excitement, grabbing your arm closest to her. You scoop some chocolate chips and pour milk into a pitcher, putting it under the steam wand. “Holy shit. What has he told you so far? What’s his story?”

“Well, he said he’s a DEA agent. He’s on leave from work right now, but the guy in the red shirt in that picture of Escobar after they killed him? That’s his partner,” you tell her, letting the excitement speed your words up. “He’s been in Colombia for a couple of years working on it. Isn’t that cool?” You laugh.

“So cool,” she nods in agreement. “And he’s so fucking cute. Girl, you need to get your ass back there before I steal him myself.”

You laugh as you pour the shots and then the steamed milk into the mugs. “I’m trying, but you holding onto one of my arms is holding me back, love,” you tease her and she breaks away. You top both mugs with a perfectly peaked whipped cream layer, then sprinkle candy cane pieces and chocolate chips on top. “Wish me luck,” you practically sing as you walk back with a mug for each of you.

Javier’s holding back a grin himself as you make the drinks. He can see your head bobbing along behind the bar, the other woman chatting with you. He’s more transfixed than you than he should allow himself to be, but all fears fade as he sees you approaching with a grin and two large, whipped cream-topped drinks.

You set the drink down in front of him and he smiles at you. “Wow. This…” he looks down at it and smiles a little. “Well, it looks sweet.”

“I have a sweet tooth,” you admit with a soft laugh and sit down, taking a sip and sighing softly. “It tastes like winter. I love it.” He nods and takes a sip too. It’s sweet, but not as bad as he expected. “I added extra espresso to yours,” you tell him, a shy smile on your face.

“A woman after my own heart,” he chuckles and sets it down, licking the foam off of his mustache.

You smile a little wider at that and hold back a laugh. “Did you want to talk about the meeting?” you ask him, tilting your head, your expression softening.

Javier’s already falling, and he curses himself as he looks at you. Not a thought except him. He’s already thinking of a sly way to get your number. “No, not really. I just spilled basically my entire life story to you.”

“Then you’ve had a very short and boring life. That was hardly anything. I’ve had customers come in and cry over divorces or lost family members; the whole job situation was mild,” you chuckle and admit, tracing the rim of the mug with your fingertips and staring down at the steaming drink.

“Really? You seem like a therapist and a barista in one,” he teases lightly.

“Well, I did just graduate with a Masters in psychology,” you shrug. “I just graduated with it from Georgetown. That’s why I’m here,” you tell him and look up. “Working here part-time while I decide what I want to do.”

“No shit. I did my undergrad in psych and sociology,” Javier says with a small smile, making your smile grow too. “Texas A&M though. Nothing as prestigious as Georgetown.”

“A&M isn’t anything to sneeze at,” you chuckle as you look over at him. His eyes are deep-set, deeper than they probably normally are. They’re bloodshot and hold bags beneath them. After a breath, you bite your lip and look him in the eye. “You look tired. I don’t know you normally, I understand. Maybe you shouldn’t finish this,” you tell him with a concerned smile, scooting his mug towards you. “Too much caffeine.”

“No, I need it, please,” he says, tugging it back and sipping at it again. “Just… until after this meeting. Then I’ll know what my future holds, then I can rest.”

“What time is it at?”

“5:00.”

There’s a beat of silence. “I don’t have any plans tonight,” you say gently, looking at him with a question in your eyes. “Would you like to get dinner? Talk things out, once you know what your future holds?” You offer, a soft smile and hopeful eyes. “I already know enough about you. This could be practice therapy for me,” you tease softly.

Javier thinks for a second, though he knows what the answer will be. At least pretends to think, surprised that you could hear all he had said about Los Pepes and working in Colombia and that you still offered. “I’d like that,” he nods, his voice soft when he looks at you. “I don’t know the area well. You’ll have to tell me where.”

“Do you have a car up here?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. “I can pick you up,” you offer. “Where are you staying?”

He grabs a napkin and pats his pockets for a pen. You hand him the paint pen tucked on your apron and he quickly thanks you before writing down the address to the hotel. You take the napkin and the pen and grab another napkin. “And this…” you say and write down your phone number, sliding it to him, “is where you’ll call me when you’re ready for me to come get you. Okay?” You ask.

Your voice is so soothing, Javier thinks. More than sleep or reassurance or even a hit of Escobar’s private stash or really anything could be to him right now, it’s a comfort. You must be a miracle, he thinks, some kind of blessing for something he isn’t quite sure of, but he must have done something right in the eyes of the Almighty to be here, right now, talking with you. “You know, I was raised Catholic,” he tells you and leans in a little. “I don’t know that I am anymore. But still… I think you might be an angel in disguise.”

Biting your lip, you giggle and look down. “I don’t know about that,” you chuckle as you look up at him again. “Just… right place, right time, maybe. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” you ask him, placing your hand over his and standing.

Javier nods as he looks up at you. “How should I dress?” he asks and tilts his head. His eyes are so expressive, you notice and smile a bit. They betray exactly what he’s thinking.

“Um… what you’re wearing now would be fine. A button down and jeans would work,” you tell him with a nod, patting his hand and picking up your mug. “I’ll see you then. Good luck,” you tell him with a sweet smile and retreat to the back. Javier can’t say anything in return, just sips his peppermint mocha.

Three minutes later, you return with a muffin. “Eat this. You can’t have all that caffeine and no food.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and looks down at it. You’re gone when he looks back up, and he breaks off a piece. What a weird day. It’s only about to get weirder.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #javier peña x you #caffeine rush

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yunkiwii · 4 years

Text

stargazing | au

pairing: non-idol!mingi x gn!reader

genre: fluff დ

warnings: none

wc: 2.1k

requested: no, but i'll tag @su-lix because she has been waiting for this ♡

net: @ateezlovenet

summary: you met mingi at san's birthday party and somehow you both end up talking throughout the whole party, which led to him (kinda) asking you out.

Last week, at your friend San’s birthday party you met this other friend of his, Mingi, and somehow you two ended up talking throughout the whole party ignoring whatever was going on outside of your little bubble. When you told him you knew the names of the constellations and how to distinguish them, he got so excited about it that he just couldn’t help but ask you to teach him someday.

The party ended, you exchanged numbers to keep in touch and now, nine days later, there you were, sitting on the passenger seat of his car making your way to the middle of nowhere, to star gaze together. You still couldn’t believe you actually went on board with this, considering that you barely knew him, but you trusted San’s judgement just enough and, besides, there was no way this boy would hurt you, even though he was really tall he was just like a kid trapped in a big man’s body, too pure for this world and you could see right through him. And he was hot, you would never admit it out loud but that also had a say on your decision.

You felt really comfortable siting there next to him, windows rolled down, your hand hanging on the outside feeling the fresh breeze hitting you on this warm summer evening, as you watch the sun setting down and the sky turning into shades of orange and pink, the busy city being left behind, further and further away from you at every second.

The twenty-minute drive was made almost in absolute silence, but not in an awkward silence way, just quiet, with soft music playing in the radio, a playlist that Mingi swore he chose randomly, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that he made the playlist specially for this drive, it just fitted the mood too well to be a coincidence.

“So, we need to establish something first.” Mingi breaks the silence as he stops the car in a small parking lot, with only a couple of lampposts lighting the area faintly now that the sun was fully gone, and you hum in response taking your eyes away from the window and facing him. “Is this a date or is this merely educational? I need to know how to behave.”

“Hm… you were the one asking me to come, so it’s up to you I guess…” you smile back at him, praying that he wouldn’t notice your hands playing with each other, a clear sign of how nervous you got the moment he spoke up.

Mingi chuckles shyly and scratches the back of his head, clearly not expecting his question to backfire at him like that. You felt proud of yourself for being able to keep it cool and avoid the question like that, even more so seeing how you left the boy so flustered he wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“It’s a date then!” He decides after a while, smiling at you but when he was halfway leaving the car, he turns back at you again, “This is, if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m already here aren’t I?” you smile back at him, leaving the car as well, satisfied at how things were turning out, although you had actually thought it was clear from the moment he asked, back at San’s party, that this would be a date, yet you still found it sweet that he had to make sure first.

As you step out you start looking around, unsure about the safety of this random place so far away from the so familiar city. It seems like a small village to you, a very quiet one, the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs combined with the sound of running water being the only things you could hear, and you realize there’s likely a river nearby which explains why it felt chillier here, making you pull on your jacket’s sleeves so you could cover your hands, still nervously gripping on the other.

Mingi notices your nervous tic easily and approaches you slowly with his backpack hanging from one shoulder, his tall figure right next to you so close that the said backpack is brushing on your arm lightly.

“(y/n), don’t worry about this place yeah? My grandma used to live here, I know this place better than I know myself, it’s completely safe.” He looks down at you waiting for your approval, but you just nod and hum in response, not convincing him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable here, we can go back to the city and do something else, or I can take you home if that’s what you want…”

“No Mingi, we’re here already let’s stick to the plan.” You look up at him smiling determined and a wide smile forms on his face, and hell that was a beautiful smile, one of those that could wipe all the worries in the world, and you had to look away as you felt your cheeks warm up. “But I would be more comfortable if we stayed close to the parking lot, okay?”

With that said he suggested staying near the closest tree, just close enough to what you considered safe but not too close to the lampposts so that you could still see the stars clearly. He took out a dark blue blanket out of his backpack and as you sat on it, just chatting about random daily life stuff, you began to feel more at ease, finally taking your hands away from each other and resting one on the blanket for support, and the other on your lap.

As Mingi asked you about the constellations, you let yourself fall on your back, getting a laugh out of the boy, while you ramble about how since you were little you looked up more often than you looked down, gaining you a couple of funny falls throughout the years.

“Hey, lay down, otherwise you will hurt your neck.” You chuckled pulling Mingi down by slightly grabbing on his sweater’s sleeve, and he too falls on his back right next to you, your hands brushing every once in a while, sending shivers from the tip of your fingers right into and through your spine. This made you fluster a bit, making you unable to keep the conversation going, so you both just stared in silence into the sprinkles in the sky for a while, until Mingi looks back at you all of the sudden and breaks the silence.

“Is that a constellation?” he points up to the sky, unaware that you had no idea where he was pointing at, his eyes wide open looking at you, excited about the fact that he might have figured something out.

“Mingi, I have no idea where you’re pointing at...”

“Oh, well…” he moves his body closer to yours to try and explain better what he was seeing, your shoulders now touching and he extends his arm right in front of your face so you could follow the invisible line connecting his fingers and the said constellation, “Those five stars connected form a weird «w», is that a constellation?” he looks at you again with expectation.

“Yes!! It’s Cassiopeia!” you grab his arm excitedly pulling it down next to you and, unable to control your nerdy excitement over stars, you start rambling about the said constellation unaware that you were still entangled in Mingi’s arm.

“In mythology, Cassiopeia was the wife of King Cepheus, whose constellation is right next to hers! One day she started saying she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, the Nereids. One of them was married to Poseidon and so they appealed to him to punish Cassiopeia for her boastfulness. Because of this Cepheus went to an oracle for help who told him they had to sacrifice their daughter, Andromeda, to the sea monster, and so they did; but last minute the Greek hero Perseus showed up and rescued her from the monster. Later, Andromeda and Perseus got married and some other guy showed up claiming to be the right suit for Andromeda, starting a fight. Perseus was outnumbered so he used the head of Medusa which, as you probably know already, turned into stone whoever looked her in the eyes. In this process the king and queen were killed, Poseidon still wanted revenge and so he placed them in the sky, leaving Cassiopeia condemned to circle the celestial pole forever, spending half the year upside down in the sky as punishment for-” you stop yourself from talking as you realise you might be boring him and, worse, you were still attached to his arm like a limp, releasing him immediately and avoiding eye contact, embarrassed by your ramblings and for overstepping his personal space, and finished the sentence weakly, “for her vanity.”

“How do you know all this?” Mingi sits up and he didn’t seem bothered at all, quiet au contraire, he was actually amazed by you and interested in what you were saying. That caught you by surprise since all you were used to was to people telling you to shut up whenever you rambled about things you were passionate about.

“Well, I read a lot about this stuff… I can lend you a few books if-”

“Yes, please! I would very much like that (y/n)!” he says and squeezes your hand lightly in appreciation when you sit up yourself, holding onto your hand a bit too longer than he was supposed to, “Your hands are so cold, do you need another sweater or something? I might have another one in my car.”

As he was standing up to go to his car you grab his hand again, earning his attention back to your face again.

“I know the car is close but-, I don’t want to be left alone here…” You hesitated a bit, but the thought of being left alone there, with his back turned to you, took your mind right to all those crime documentaries you usually watch for fun, but picturing it in the real world doesn’t seem so fun.

“Oh, that’s okay (y/n), I won’t leave you alone. But perhaps we should go back now, you’re really cold and I don’t want you to get sick or something.” Mingi helps you up as you nod in agreement, although the prospect of your date ending didn’t please you that much, but he was right, as the night went on it got colder and you were starting to shiver a bit by now.

The ride back home was a whole different than the one from earlier, your level of comfort with each other went from comfortable silence to an open debate on whether your zodiac sign had a say on your personality or not. No conclusion was taken from it though, since it only led to you getting to know each other better based on the traces of personality you used to prove your own points.

Your trip back home was soon to be over but neither of you were ready to say goodbye just yet, it felt like you’ve just left the city, but you were already back, and it was almost midnight.

“Time really flies by when we’re having fun huh?” Mingi chuckled quietly and you barely heard him, so you assumed he was talking to himself and didn’t say anything. He stopped the car right in front of the pathway to your house, leaning back on his seat and turning his head to face you, “Here we are, (y/n). Thank you for agreeing on this date, I had a really good time.” His smile awakens a warm sensation inside you and you automatically mirror his expression.

“I had a lot of fun too, Mingi, thank you for tonight.”

At this point you knew you should probably say your goodbyes and call it a night, but you just stayed like that for a few more minutes, or so it seemed to you, tracing each other’s features with your eyes, memorizing every bit of it hoping you would dream with each other that night, but in reality, only a few seconds had passed until you became flustered by the boy’s eyes locked on your face.

“Hm, I- I should probably go,” you rush to take the seatbelt off and leave the car, looking back in before shutting the door, “thank you again, Mingi.”

As you were about to enter the house you hear his voice calling you from inside the car, you turn around and see the window from the passenger's side open, his face trying to get a look at you, “When will you lend me that book you told me about?”

You giggled to yourself, seeing this as chance to take control of what should happen next, “Perhaps on our next date, I’ll text you the details!”

He smiled at you and yelled back a “deal” before starting the car and leaving at full speed. You shut your door and lean against it, not quite believing you were actually the one who suggested the second date.

♡MASTERLIST♡

#ateezlovenet #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #ateez mingi fluff #mingi au #ateez mingi au #mingi oneshot #ateez mingi oneshot #mingi fic

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mochi-marie · 4 years

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❛ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . ❜

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 : 「 opened 」

there is a five character maximum per request, and a two character minimum! the only exception would be for requests like : “ ( character ) as a boyfriend ”, etc!

you must specify the gender of the s/o, whether that be female, gender neutral, or male! just specify, or else it will default to gender neutral!

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i only write for boku no hero academia and haikyuu!!, so please don’t request another fandom! all requests will be written pre time-skip ( as i myself am a highschool student ), unless you specify time-skip or i mention that they are time-skip in the author’s note!

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇-𝐔𝐏𝐒 : 「 closed 」

word of notice — everything written below is a requirement unless stated otherwise! if you do not fill out all the requirements, i will simply delete your ask!

please include your sexuality / gender preference for the match-up, as well as your pronouns! if you aren’t comfortable with sharing your sexuality, please just say what gender you would prefer for the match-up!

include a thorough description of your physical appearance, including but not limited to — height, body shape ( if comfortable, if not, don’t worry about it <3 ), eye color, hair color + length + texture, etcetera!

include any physical signature item or marking that you think makes you unique! whether it be freckles, a birth mark, scars or tattoos, or a jacket you wear often, etcetera!

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tell me about you and romance! tell me your top three love languages in order, whether you’re shyer or bolder in the relationship, and what your ideal lover is like! tell me your ideal date!

( not required : ) are you an early bird or a night owl? what is one thing you cannot live without? favorite song? what is one negative trait about yourself that you think you have, if any?

please make sure you specify whether you would like a bnha or haikyuu matchup!

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇-𝐔𝐏𝐒 : 「 closed 」

again, everything written below if a requirement unless stated otherwise! make sure to include everything required!

please send in a few pictures of yourself, preferably ones that you think show you off in the best way, as well as show off who you are as a person / your vibe!

please specify if you want your pictures to remain hidden or if you are okay with letting them be seen! if you are not okay with letting them be shown, please send in another ask with no pictures attached ( you do not have to copy and paste all the information down again ), or stay off anon so i may tag you and then delete the ask with the pictures!

if you are not comfortable with sending me pictures, just include a very thorough and detailed description of yourself! i will not accept anything like : “(color) hair, (color eyes), and (height)”. i cannot work with something that small, sorry!

tell me about you and romance! tell me your top three love languages in order, whether you’re shyer or bolder in the relationship, and tell me your ideal date!

( not required : ) are you an early bird or a night owl? what is one thing you cannot live without? favorite song?

please make sure you specify whether you would like a bnha or haikyuu matchup!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 : 「 closed 」

once more, all information below is required within the request, unless stated otherwise!

the moodboard will be 3x3, all aesthetics found off of Pinterest! please, and i repeat please, do not save the moodboard and then claim it as your own!! i spend hours working on my mood boards to find aesthetics that i like and are up to my standard ( that includes hue / tone matching to all the other aesthetics, keeping in mind information about you and your self ship, finding high-quality pictures, etc )!

send your self ship — break it down to who your self ship is with, for example mezuku ( melody x izuku ) — and then proceed to include the following :

include a description about your self-ship, what kind of relationship you both have, and an example of the kind of date you both would have!

as well, include your favorite color and your favorite aesthetic, along with some hobbies of yours and your top three love languages! also, include how you act in a relationship ( or how you think you would act in a relationship with the character of choice )!

you may choose one of your selfships per request! i only accept bnha and haikyuu as the fandoms!

#🪧 — REQUESTING GUIDE / RULES

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annab-nana · 4 years

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Are You Fucking Stupid - Colby Brock

The guys invited y/n to tag along with them as they went to Witches Forest, but after a scarring and emotion-filled event or two, she contemplates this trip being her last with the boys.

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 3.9k+

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“Let’s go camping, guys!” I shout happily as I skip along the way towards the tent, even though I could barely see in the misty dark forest and I don’t really know where I am going.

“How is she so fucking happy and excited? Does she know what we are doing?” I hear Corey ask someone behind me. I stop skipping so that I don’t drop all the supplies in my arms and keep walking next to Colby.

“Corey, you got to remember this is her first trip with us. She doesn’t know what we do, but she will find out soon,” Colby says to Corey as he maintains his attention focused in front of us.

“I’m not an idiot, Brock. I did my research. I watched the last series. I still don’t know why you two decided to trust that Jennifer girl. She was giving me weird vibes in the Stanley videos. And, it might be scary, Corey, but I am really excited,” I tell them all.

“Don’t question her, brother. She’s probably the least scared one of us all, except for maybe Sam because he isn’t scared of anything,” Jake comments, receiving chuckles from the whole group.

“Wait, where’s the tent?” Corey asks, worry and concern laced within his voice.

“No, you got to keep going, bro,” Sam informs him from the back of the group. Colby and I were leading the crew with Corey close behind, then Jake and Sam were at the tail end of the pack.

“You sure?” Corey questions him, but Colby reassures him that we are on the right track. We all get slightly worried until we see the beautiful blue thing before us.

“Oh God, what is that?” Sam asks as he points the camera off to the side of the tent. When my eyes follow the same direction, they see nothing except darkness and trees.

“What was what?” Colby inquires.

“Shut up, Sam,” Jake pushes it off as a joke.

“I don’t see anything,” I add.

“I-I thought I saw an animal or a figure or something,” the blonde informs the group before shrugging off the thought.

“Yo dude, I sw- I swear to God I saw the same thing like a shadow go that way, right?” Colby mentions as he points in the direction that he saw the shadow go with his head since his arms and hands are occupied with water and other things we will need tonight.

“Yeah, I thought- Are there-” Sam tries to start a few different sentences before a noise from the forest interrupts him. It came from the same direction of where the two said the figure was. “Are there animals?” He whispers.

“Did you hear that?” Colby asks him, to which he says yes.

“That could be an animal,” I say. I hope it was an animal. It sounded like one, but the way that their minds immediately think it was something other than that, makes me want to think it was something else too.

“Oh, we didn’t even think about that. There’s like bears and stuff out here,” Colby says as he realizes it might not be the worst thing he thought it could be and it might just be an animal. After that, we put the supplies into the tent and set everything up.

...

“This dude claims he’s a fucking eagle scout,” Jake tells the camera after Colby spilled lighter fluid all on the side of the pot and on the grass around it. He got more of it on the outside than the inside. The claimed boy scout ignites the wood with a lighter and the small flames begin to grow. As it grows a little more, we back our chairs away from it to keep a good distance from the growing campfire. After it settles down a tad, Sam whips the camera back out to continue filming.

“Jake, I got you a snack brother,” Colby says as he rummages through his bag and pulls out a blue bag. He passes it to Corey, who passes it to me, and I hand it to Jake after reading the bag. It is a freeze-dried ice cream sandwich. Jake takes a bite of it after opening the package and we watch as he deliberates what he’s tasting.

“I don’t taste anything,” Jake says as he passes me the ice cream sandwich to taste. Colby only got two, so we are going to have to share. I take a bite as does Corey with the other one.

“It feels like a Lucky Charms marshmallow but with no taste,” Corey figures out and I hum in agreement as my mouth is still full. We finish the ice cream sandwiches and joke around for a bit before Colby and Jake head to the car to get the sage and a few other things. They do not take long at all and are back in what feels like seconds.

“So while he’s doing the sage, this next step is gonna be…” Sam starts to explain what we will be doing tonight as Colby dips the top of the sage into the fire until it gives off a light smoke. He then pulls it away from the fire and goes over to Sam to begin to sage the group. He finishes waving the sage around Sam and moved to Corey who was holding the camera to film Sam’s explanation.

“So, I just hold my arms out?” I whisper to Colby when he moves onto me. Today was the first day I have ever been saged at all and I just copied what the guys did when we went to the witch’s house. Colby let out a small giggle before nodding his head.

“Yeah, just to make sure I get all of you,” He answers as he waves the sage around my arms, making sure to get the sage’s smoke all around me.

“You’re good,” He whispers to me before taking a few steps towards Jake who was snuggling his small stuffed Shrek. I try to focus my attention on Sam and what he is telling us we will be doing, but I can’t help but notice Jake stick Shrek out for him to be saged as well. I snicker as Colby sages Shrek and then does a small dance as he sages himself.

“I think we’re ready to go, guys,” Colby announces as he sets the sage to the side and returns to his chair.

“I say obviously the first one is Lucy, right?” Sam says before writing that name on a slip of paper.

“Wait, y’all think that Lucy and the cowboy and stuff is attached to us from the Stanley?” Corey asks as he points the camera to Sam and Colby.

“No, we’re just trying to take every single precaution we can,” Colby assures Corey but filming Sam again so he can explain more. He explains more in-depth what Colby just said and writes ‘The Cowboy’ on the next piece of paper.

“What else do we think is here? We need three. Is there anything else you think that could be possibly haunting us or that-” Sam starts as the rest of us think and Colby cuts him off with an idea.

“The shadow man?” Colby suggests as he looks over to Corey. I have known these guys for almost a year now and I don’t know much about the shadow man, but I know that is something that Corey does not like to talk about. My eyes go from Colby to Corey to see what he has to say. I’ve never heard him talk about and to be honest, I don’t really know what it is. The only bit I know is what I saw in their last series.

“Bro come on. Bro, why did you have to just bring that up?” Corey sighs, seeming slightly aggravated at what Colby mentioned.

“Because what other story have we ever told?” Colby explains to him. Even though it might freak him out, it might be best for Corey to do this cleansing fire ritual.

“Bro, in the woods? You have to bring that up out here?” Corey adds. He is visibly scared. From what I’ve seen, he gets scared the easiest, but whatever this shadow man thing is really freaks him out.

“Let’s say we saw a shadow person. If we turn off every single light, there can’t be a shadow.” Jake mentions, lightening the mood a bit.

“I’ve been talking about the shadow man a lot lately and I’ve been like-” Corey starts, but Jake finishes it for him.

“Manifesting it.” The whole group agrees.

“No, dude, that’s probably it!” Sam loudly speaks as the realization of it hits him.

“Wait, you’re blurry,” Corey mutters, trying to focus the camera on Sam. Before anyone can say anything about that, I hear a low grumbling noise come from behind me. I turn around to see if anything is there, but there isn’t. “Did you hear that?”

“The rumbling?” Jake questions, meaning he heard it too. I nod to let him know I heard the noise as well. We disregard it as an animal and get back to the fire ritual that Sam has been talking about the whole time.

“We’re gonna wrap these ghosts around our personal objects and then toss them into the fire,” Sam continues with the rundown of it all, but Corey has some problems with the camera. We stop filming for a minute to check it but get right back into what we were doing.

“You guys know what I’m burning?” Corey asks as he reaches into his pocket. He has a smile plastered on his face which makes us even more curious of what he has to burn. He pulls out one of the iconic black stickers with the big white X on it and shows it to the camera. I cannot help but to bust out laughing.

“Our XPLR sticker?” Sam wonders and Corey nods at him. “Why?”

“Because ever since I stopped playing with the Ouija board, the only thing that has made my life fucking haunted is you guys. If it wasn’t for y’all, I wouldn’t have brought back all this Ouija board crap, so I think it’s best that you know,” Corey explains as he gestures the sticker towards the fire.

“Look what I’m burning,” Sam begins, looking down in his wallet before pulling out a white card. “I’m burning the key to the Millennium Biltmore Hotel.” Gasps fall from the rest of the groups’ lips, shocked that he still had that key. “Because that’s what started it all.”

“Well Samuel, you aren’t the only one who brought a hotel key. I did, too. This is a hotel key to room 311 of Hotel Millersburg in Ohio. My older sister and I stayed there one night and it was honestly the scariest night of my life,” I say as I pull the key card out of pocket and show it to the boys. Colby shows us that he chose to burn a large cardboard cutout of his face and Jake is going to burn a Shrek VHS tape. Sam passes Corey and Colby two of the three pieces of paper that have ghosts written on them and we begin the fire ritual.

“I’ve never done this one before so let’s just for it. Ready? Three. Two. One,” Sam tells us before we all throw our items into the fire. I watch as the flames take over the hotel key card and begin to melt it. The fire dances over all our things and burns them. “That should really help us out.” Sam tries to explain before Jake let out an ungodly noise from his bottom half.

“Brother,” Colby says as we all laugh at the guy who just ripped one. The laughter dies down and we all stare at the fire. “So, this is a good thing? It feels good.”

“Shrek’s not burning. That means we should take it out,” Jake notices and I look down. It is letting off smoke, but it is not burning. As soon as Corey starts to comment on it, Colby gasps and flips out of his chair. He falls to the ground before struggling to get back up.

“Sam!” He shouts when he is finally to his feet.

“What?” The worry is Sam’s voice is evident.

“There’s a- Look, look, there was a shadow over there,” Colby states frantically as he points into the dark foggy forest behind Jake and I. We all look in that direction but do not see a thing.

“No, there fucking wasn’t. No, there wasn’t, bro,” Corey denies as he stands up and backs away from where we were.

“No, it just went across in the background behind Jake and y/n. I swear to God,” Colby spits out as he walks closer to where he said he saw it. Sam has not said anything, Corey is trying to leave, and Jake is making sure everyone is okay. I don’t really know what to say. I believe that Colby saw something, but I didn’t see anything myself. “Did you see?”

“No, I feel like you’re fucking with me,” Sam finally speaks, and it isn’t what Colby wants to hear. I know it. Colby hates when people think he is lying because he hates when people lie to him.

“No, why would I fuck with you? There’s no reason for me to do that. Dude, it literally ran across. This is our time to go capture it. Come on,” Colby encourages as Sam, Jake, and I stand up from our chairs.

“No, no, no, no, fuck no,” Corey starts, but Sam and Jake are grabbing their bags and flashlights, ready to investigate. I do the same because I figured we were all going. “Guys, guys, I don’t want to go.”

“We need someone to stay and watch the fire anyway so just-” Colby tells Corey quickly as he is eager to go see what he saw earlier.

“I’m not staying here by myself,” Corey protests.

“Dude, we literally think that someone is spying on us. You literally just said someone has to be fucking with us on the phone,” Sam tries to convince Corey, but Colby is getting impatient.

“Let’s go! You stay here if you’re scared. We gotta go,” Colby tells him as he grabs a lantern.

“Bro, what the fuck. Someone take the camera. I don’t wanna be here by myself, bro,” Corey frets as he shakily passes the camera to Sam.

“You three go. I’ll stay here with Corey,” I say as I hand Jake my flashlight and set my bag down on the ground.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks me quickly before Colby almost goes insane.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Just make sure you don’t lose him,” I say as I nod towards Colby who has almost left the group entirely. Sam gives me a nod before running after Colby alongside Jake.

“Thanks, y/n,” Corey sighed as he plopped down into his chair.

“No problem, brother. I know you were scared, and I am too, so I don’t mind. I just hope they don’t lose Colby. Did you see how far away he was?” I ask him and he nods before a silence settles between us as we stare into the flames.

“So, what happened that night in the hotel in Ohio?” Corey wonders as he looks up from the fire to meet my eyes. I take in a deep breath before answering.

“I don’t want to go into the details while we are in the middle of the forest because I’ll just scare myself, but to make a long story short, lights flickered, and beds shook. I heard noises and had terrible nightmares. My sister had a scratch on her side that was not there before she went to sleep. It just wasn’t a fun night,” I tell him as his mouth hangs wide open.

“Can I ask why you kept the key?” He asks and I nod before replying.

“Yeah, I used to keep it to have something from that night, but then I kept it as a memory of something my sister and I did together.”

“What happened to her?” He further inquires.

“She died in a car accident two years ago,” I whisper.

“Oh,” He mutters.

“Yeah, but now, I have this to remember her by,” I say as I show him the ring I wear that adorns my finger with a small sunshine on it.

“It’s pretty,” He compliments, and I smile at him.

“Thanks. It makes me happy when I look down at it, so I wear it every day like she did,” I tell him, and he nods.

“COREY! COLBY! Y/N!” we hear Sam yelling in the distance.

“What the fuck?” Corey whispers before standing. I turn around and see Sam and Jake running towards us, but there is no Colby. My heart drops as I get up and worry and fear take over me.

“Did you hear that scream?” Sam pants as he attempts to catch his breath.

“The only screaming I heard was you,” I tell Sam.

“Where’s Colby?” Corey questions the boys.

“Wait, where’s Colby?” Sam asks and looks around him for his counterpart. My eyes widen when I realize that he lost him.

“Wait, Colby’s not with you?” Corey asks, wide-eyed as well.

“I thought he came back here,” Sam states and I feel like my world is spinning.

“Are you joking?” Corey wonders.

“If this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny. Where is Colby?” I scoff. I don’t know why, but anger fills me. How did they manage to lose him? He had a light so they could see him and from what I have been told, Sam was pretty fast in high school, so he should have easily caught up to Colby.

“He ran off,” Jake says so nonchalantly.

“He said he wanted to go the other way, so we went towards this baby thing,” Sam freaks.

“Wait, so you left Colby?” Corey questions in disbelief.

“We tried, but he ran off by himself,” Jake pretests.

“What do you mean he ran off by himself? Why?” Corey asks, trying to make sense of what is happening as my anger rises.

“He saw a shadow figure and we saw something another way,” Sam tries to justify himself.

“Are you fucking stupid? Do you realize you left your best friend in the pitch-black woods by himself for some baby thing? All that I am hearing is that you think that baby thing is more important than Colby, your ‘everything I have’. I asked you to do one thing while I stayed with Corey and that was to not lose Colby and look at what you did. You left him. I-I can’t deal with this right now.” I storm away from the guys to look for Colby.

“Where are you going?” I hear Jake ask from behind me.

“To look for Colby,” I say bluntly as I pull out my phone to use the flashlight.

“Wait, let me come with you,” Sam offers, but I snap at him once more.

“I think you have done enough. If you can leave Corey and Colby by themselves, then leave me alone too.” I turn around and continue on the path that they took earlier. I hear footsteps come from behind me before they catch up to me.

“Hey, are you okay?” I hear Jake ask me. I look at him before shaking my head.

“No, I’m not. Colby is fucking missing and I-” I stop myself from saying any more, but Jake is too curious to let it slide.

“You what?” He asks sincerely. I let out a sigh before continuing.

“I’ve never told anyone this, but I love him, Jake. And I’ve never got to tell him before and now he is lost in this pitch-black darkness,” I say as I shine my flashlight all around me. Thankfully, Jake brought the lantern with him so we can really see.

“I’m sure we will find him y/n. Don’t worry,” Jake whispers before pulling me into him to comfort my worried self. We continue to shout his name in hopes he will hear us, but it feels like no use.

“Are you sure we will find him?” I ask Jake as we continue on the path.

“Yeah, if we stay on the path, we should find him.” We walk a little farther before I ask him something else because my mind is going everywhere.

“Do you think he even likes me back or am I wasting my time on him if I tell him?”

“We’ve always thought you two would end up together. It’s just a matter of when.” I nod and we walk a while more before hearing something.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper to Jake and he nods at me. It sounded like some stepped on a twig, but it wasn’t us that did it.

“Y/n?” I hear Colby’s voice ask before I see him. I run over to him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I thought we had lost you,” I say, and his arms wrap around me too.

“Nope, I am right here. Where’d you guys go?” He asks Jake as we let go of each other and began to walk back to the camp.

“We tried to get you to stop, but you kept going,” Jake tells him.

“Yeah, we are going to have a bit of a talk when we get back to the camp,” I say as I lead the boys back. Once we are back and everyone is settled, I begin to talk.

“Okay, now that we have all cooled down and Colby is found, I want to say sorry to Sam because I was sort of rude to you earlier. I know being scared does not justify it, but I was terrified. Colby, I understand that you were scared and really wanted to get the shadow person you saw, but you can’t abandon everyone and Sam, I know you saw that baby thing and wanted to capture that as well, but friends come first. We are all in what feels like a horror movie and we need to act smarter and think before we do. Okay?” They all nod before we talk about what we each experienced when we split.

...

“Colby?” I whisper to the guy next to me, hoping he isn’t asleep. The others definitely are sleeping, but I can’t sleep, and Colby has been tossing and turning the whole time.

“Yeah,” He groggily answers before turning around in his sleeping bag to face me.

“I need to tell you something because if anything like what happened tonight happens again, I’ll hate myself for never telling you and honestly, I don’t care if this messes up our friendship. I have to say it.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, y/n.”

“I like you, Colby. I always have and I haven’t known how to tell and when you went missing, I thought I’d never get to so-” My sentence gets cuts off by a pair of lips pressing against my own. I am taken by surprise but soon melt into the kiss before we pull away.

“I like you too, y/n,” He says breathlessly. A smile spreads on my reddened lips as one does on his too.

“I thought Sam said no kissing in the tent,” I hear Jake pout. I blush in embarrassment and I lean into Colby to hide.

“I did say that, but for those two, I’ll allow it,” Sam speaks. I thought they were asleep, but they heard it all.

“Can I join?” Corey jokes. I shake my head before realizing that I am going to be picked on about this for the whole two-hour car ride home.

#colby #colby brock #Sam and Colby #cute colby #cute colby brock #colby brock imagine #fanfic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #xplr #TRAPHOUSE #sam golbach #Corey Scherer #jake webber #y/n #cole robert brock #sncnetwork

304 notes · View notes

shamsgoddess · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

What does your muse smell like ? Aurora is fixated upon scents and she collects expensive perfumes. Her all time favourite perfume is Roses N’ Roses by Dior. So, she mostly smells like grasse and damascus roses with geranium. She wears J’adore hair mist in her hair so it smells like jasmines, Indian jasmines, ylang-ylang, and damascus roses. Aurora also applies quite a lot of flower scented lotions and wears a strawberry scented shampoo in her hair. She is pretty sensitive to smells so she always smells like a flower garden in full bloom. The scent tends to be pretty overpowering and can be obnoxious. She never smells bad because she can’t bear bad smells. Even clothes she would discard to be washed are never dirty and always smell wonderful. What do your muse’s hands feel like ? Immensely soft to the touch. She has never seen a day’s worth of hard labour in her life and not even years of violin training had given her any calluses due to proper training. They are quite small so they always seem to be fitting in the other’s hands. They are nice to hold, warm and soft with delicate skin due to proper moisturizing. What does your muse usually eat in a day ? Aurora cannot eat as soon as she wakes up, she usually has water and tea in the morning. A few hours later, she has a proper brunch with sunny side up eggs, toasted sandwiches, waffles, and other hearty breakfast food. In between brunch and dinner she whips up one of her special sunny side up toasted sandwiches, with an onion gravy filling. Messy but she adores it. At dinner, there is always a proper meal. Even if take out is ordered, it would be a proper meal. Aurora is finnicky about the hours she eats as she can’t eat if she is even a bit full but if she skips meals, she gets in a bad mood and begins crying. Does your muse have a good singing voice ? Of course ! By profession, Aurora is a singer. She has an ethereal voice that has a siren like quality to it. She has been singing professionally since she was seventeen. First as the main vocalist for a pop girl group called Saturn, then the vocalist for a pop rock band Svnrise, and now the singer for a pop duo Aura. Listen to her singing vc here. Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks ? Oh, absolutely ! Many ! When it comes to bad habits, Aurora is a serial nail biter. She has been chewing on her nails since she could, her parents could never get rid of this habit. She has terrible sleeping habits, she has stayed up at night since she was a toddler. I am not sure if it comes in bad habits, but she cracks her knuckles a lot by bending her fingers backwards ? Her nervous ticks are that she is fidgety and bounces her feet or taps her pen. She also bites on her nails when nervous, chews on her lips, or paces around. What does your muse usually look like / wear ? High maintenance, Aurora is always dressed to impress. Perfect hair with the perfect outfit and the perfect accessories. Aurora is, and does exude, model vibes. She is always dressed in luxury brands. What could be considered dressed up, is her ordinary and she would be seen shopping for milk in chanel. She does not wear makeup on the usual but her skin is always glowy due to regular dermatologist visits. However, she wears an excessive amount of blush and highlighter and some lipstick for her daily use. She wears bows in her hair or wears them in cute styles. Her fashion style is more feminine. Whether desi or western fashion, she prefers a princess look. Dior is her go to brand. She wears a lot of tulle and silk. Sometimes dresses with flowery patterns. The style is always fairy tale princess with dramatic flowy skirts and sparkles / glimmer. There is a dramatic touch to her clothes. She wears jewelry a lot which also varies between desi and western with expensive yet delicate earrings or jhumkas, She always wears heels, mostly stilettos, pumps, and ankle straps. Her aesthetic is a mixture of royaltycore, cottagecore, and light academia. Her fashion pinterest board is here. Is your muse affectionate ? How much ? How so ? Remarkably affectionate. Aurora thrives in affection. With her loved ones, she does not stifle this emotion. Not even a bit. She is the type to showcase her affection. Mostly seen by buying gifts or taking care and even remembering small details about those she loves. Though, she may not be great at verbal affection with friends as it usually has a joke attached to it, she is very physically affectionate. Linking arms, hair ruffles, piggy back rides, cheek and forehead kisses, and other sorts of affection. Cuddles are also greatly appreciated. With her romantic partner, her boyfriend Tida, Aurora does not know the limits of affection. It is very easy for her to praise him and profess her love in a poetic manner, she also finds great joy in constantly being close to him. So she may be found squirming her way into his arms or sitting on his lap. Any skin available is kissed. Innocent public displays of affection do not worry her. What position does your muse sleep in ? When sleeping alone, Aurora tends to sleep in strange and awkward positions. Most commonly one where her arm is underneath her head and she is nearly on her stomach with her arms and legs stretched out. When cuddling with her boyfriend, she is either the little spoon with the previous position or she would turn around and have her limbs be covering him instead. Often they also fall asleep face to face with limbs tangled. Sometimes she gets to sleep on top of his chest. Her favourite may be when he has his head resting on top of her chest. Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room ? Always ! For one reason or another. Notably, her loud laughs and squealing as she makes a terrible joke or laughs at something someone had said. With the sort of shenanigans she is into, always expect to hear her from down the hallway as she may be in the middle of some mischief. tagged by: @ofgentleresolve, thank you ! tagging: @f8less, @proditeur, @lovestaind, @manticxre, and everyone else !

#╰ ☼ 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀 ━━ perhaps your arms were two blossoms of wings

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years

Text

“Under the Knife” - Part 5

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,100-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Talks of Murder, Violence, Emotions, Cursing. Let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy @a-person-unlabled

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

As much as you didn’t want to have this meeting with Crawford, you knew that you had to. You had to fill in not only Jack but Hannibal as well on where you were when it came to motive, suspects, and connections. The car ride back to the office was silent as you struggled to focus on case-related thoughts as opposed to the fact that your brother and Hannibal thought you needed backup.

It wasn’t until you parked in your normal spot at headquarters that you felt yourself slip.

Do they really not believe in me that much? Will, I can understand. He was wary about me joining from the start. But Hannibal? He was so supportive at dinner. He said that I was ‘wonderful and valuable.’ Why would he say that if he was just going to be watching over me and double-checking my work? I--

While Will seemed to not let his emotions come up often, you were the opposite. You were very empathetic and even though you had spent many years working on getting a better handle on them, you couldn’t help with your emotions got the best of you.

You managed to make it to your office before the angry tears started to spill.

There were two soft knocks on your office door. You quickly scrambled to wipe your face with the inside of your shirt and grab a few papers that you planned on showing Jack in an effort to look okay.

“Come on in.” You spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, hoping it was just a student or delivery and wouldn’t have to turn around and face them. You heard the door slowly creak open a little, Hannibal peeked in.

“Everything alright, (Y/N)?” You let out a single harsh exhale in disbelief. You kept your back facing him as you picked up a few more relevant papers to add to the growing pile in your arm.

“As alright as they can be.” You cursed internally as you felt the shakiness in your voice betray you. A normal person wouldn’t pick up on it, but you were sure Hannibal had.

“I understand you may not want to talk about this, but I think--” You quickly turn around and cut him off, really not in the mood to hear whatever explanation he has right now for his or Will’s behavior.

“I think Crawford is waiting for us. I would like to get this meeting over with and then go home so I can have an actual meal today. So how about we start moving?” You were sure he noticed the extreme lack of eye contact and the stuffiness in your nose making your voice slightly nasal. You were ready for him to ask about your wellbeing again.

Instead, you saw him nod once and held out his hands.

“Well then, let's not keep him waiting. May I?” You gladly handed your stack of papers over to him while you picked out one more file and unhooked your bag from the back of your desk chair, in hopes that you could leave right after this session with Crawford.

~~~~~~~~

“So what we have so far is that Dr. Pencalt was a neurologist with no obvious ties to Dr. Everet, Chasten, or Loreit other than the fact that they all live relatively close to one another. We also now have a potential height range and the small detail that he is left-handed.”

Hannibal hadn’t even shut the door to Jack’s office behind the two of you yet before Jack started talking. He wasn’t even facing you two, instead, he was looking at the board of evidence that now had a few pictures of tonight’s scene on it. Hannibal placed your papers on the desk in front of you as you made your way to a seat. You felt yourself zoning out because of how tired you were. Not only from the lack of sleep, but now your eyes were slightly stinging thanks to the tears that had slipped in your office moments ago.

While you knew what Jack was saying, you felt yourself zoning out even more. It wasn’t new information and you were so spent. You hadn’t realized how far into your mind you were drifting until you felt a shoe tap against yours, jolting you back into reality. Hannibal had seen the minuscule fade in your eyes as you stared at the stack of papers. He knew Jack wouldn’t handle it well, so he did his best to help you.

You tuned back in as Jack started to turn to now face you two.

"Dr. Lecter, do you think that this killer sees the spouses as nothing special, or are we missing something involving them?"

"I believe they were merely obstacles that our killer has to get through. (Y/N) said it best. These spouses are nothing more than 'trash that is taken care of.'"

You hated to admit that it hurt that Jack had to verify with Dr. Lecter on your findings. But it was a bit nice to know that Hannibal was on your side despite what your brain was told you back in your office.

Jack then looked to you, his face not showing the indignation you were sure was bubbling inside him.

“What else you got?”

Slightly rubbing a bit of pain from your eyes, you looked in your notebook, trying to figure out what else to say. You saw a scribble and then reached to your pile of papers on Jack’s desk to try to find the specific ones you were looking for.

“Well, I started to go through and find all of the doctors that work in any medical field within a 50-mile radius. I then tried to narrow it down by eliminating all of the females.”

“Why disregard females?”

“Because unless one of these female doctors is Wonder Woman, I don’t think any of them would be able to physically disable men like Dr. Chasten, who was a rather large man, by themselves.” Jack just nods his head in agreement and you keep your slowly derailing train of thought going.

“I uh-- I haven’t been able to do anything else with this list because we only just found this dominant hand and a good height range an hour ago. And I’ll be able to narrow down that height range even more when I get the angle of the incision point back from Beverly or Jimmy. But it's at least a start to what we’re looking for. ”

You look up from your suspect list as you slide it to Jack on the other side of the desk, only to find him looking at you, expecting more. Reaching for your notebook, you fumble through your scrawlings again, trying to find any information that would please him. Hannibal watched your interaction and decided to step in.

“May I ask something?”

“As long as it's not about my personal life.” You still had your eyes scanning your notebook as you responded.

“It isn’t.” You looked up from your notes, saw that he was serious, and nod for him to continue. “Why did the bedding stand out to you, (Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“At the crime scene, you said that ‘the sheets are flat.’ What significance does that have?”

“Right. Um… Because it's odd.” Jack confusingly looks from you to Hannibal, who is his normal stoic self but still curious. You see that the two men don’t see what you do, so you pull out the crime scene photos from all of the cases that show the dead doctors in their beds.

“Because the killer fixed them before meticulously placing the various parts of Dr. Pencalt out. He didn’t do that for any of the other ones. And, I also noticed that Dr. Pencalt’s eyes were left open, unlike the others who have their’s closed. It's the first time we’ve seen either of these things.”

“It is also the first time he’s killed in one room, then moved the victim to the bed.” Hannibal chimed in.

“Yes! Exactly. But, the bed still would have been messy from Dr. Pencalt’s rushed exit to the bathroom to try and get his gun. Which means that our killer wanted this ‘sculpture’ of his to be nicer looking than his previous ones.”

“Why?” Crawford could see what you were saying, be he needed more.

“I-I’m not sure yet.”

You looked down at your notebook in slight shame. So when Jack raised his voice and hit his hand on his desk in frustration, you couldn’t help but jump in your seat a bit, causing Hannibal to stiffen slightly. He had a watchful eye on you as he let Jack speak.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! This is why I brought you on. You’re supposed to be able to get inside this maniac’s brain and lead us to him. You’re implying that our killer gift-wrapped a victim at a scene that we have seen now four different times. So I’m gonna ask again: Why is this one so special?”

“May--Maybe he has some sort of emotional attachment to this vic. O-or maybe this is about his ego and he knows we were now taking this- him seriously. So he wanted to show us a new mosaic that he was proud of, like a child showing their parents a shitty piece of macaroni art that they think is a masterpiece. Or maybe it’s none of these ideas and it’s something completely out of left field that I haven’t figured out. The point is: I don’t know yet, Jack!”

You didn’t expect yourself to burst like that. But the mix of your personal feelings about Hannibal and your brother, your lack of rest, and Crawford’s accusatory tone had set you off. You focused on fiddling with your ring to try to reign yourself back in and attempt to clock out for the night.

While you tried to breathe for a few seconds, the men just stared. Hannibal was observing you, making sure you were okay enough that he wouldn’t have to physically assist you. Jack on the other hand was silent out of surprise. The two of them had seen Will at his most stressed, but they’d never seen you like this. Jack wasn’t sure how to proceed until you spoke again, much calmer and quieter than a moment ago.

“I need more evidence. We can sit here and spout out theories all night. But without details from whatever the techs got tonight, nothing can stick. So when the gang in the lab has results of any kind or we get more information from the autopsies, then I can reexamine everything I have and get a better idea of what the hell we’re looking for. For now, I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, and need a shower.”

“Are you quitting this case?” Your gaze shot from your hands in front of you to Crawford’s incredulous face; Now worried that he thought you were unfit for this job.

��No. Absolutely not. I want this asshole caught. I-- I just need to rest. I’ve been going almost non-stop since I signed those papers and took the files home. Hannibal can even vouch for me that I was immediately engrossed in this case the moment I got home. I promise that I will be more productive when I can get a sandwich and a few hours of sleep in me.”

You tried to keep your features calm, but you couldn’t help the slight sound of pleading in your voice. You knew you were right and that you just needed a small break. You felt the small sting of disheartened tears fighting their way back into your already sore eyes, hoping that Hannibal didn’t pick up on them. Jack looked to Hannibal for confirmation, getting a silent nod from him. Crawford slowly nodded his head in understanding.

“You’re right. Go home. We will pick this up tomorrow.”

He motioned to the door. You thanked him and tried to stand up and calmly walk out without showing that one of those irritating tears had slid down your cheek as you turned away from Jack. Hannibal had gotten up and opened the door for you, but before you could pass through the threshold, Jack spoke up.

“If you do think of anything, write it down and tell me first thing tomorrow.” You just nod and continue out the door, trying to make it to your car before you let yourself cry anymore. Hannibal was going to follow and ensure your safety as he usually did, but Jack stopped him.

“Not you, Dr. Lecter. I need to speak with you about a few things in private. Shouldn’t take long.” Hannibal nodded as he saw you quickly turn the corner towards the elevators. He shut the door and settled back in his seat at Crawford’s desk.

“I take it (Y/N) didn’t like the idea of you being on this case now too?”

“No. I suspect she thinks that Will and I don’t believe in her ability to handle this intense of a case as well as keep herself afloat. I’ve tried to get her to open up about it, but I fear that it may be too soon to bring it up.”

“Do you think she will be able to stay afloat?”

“I do. (Y/N) is a brilliant individual who’s empathic intuitions match those of her brother. That in addition to her curiosity for the abnormal, and desire for justice make her an ideal candidate for this position. However, I believe that she needs time to process everything that has happened over the course of her first 3 days here. She has only dealt with high-profile cases like this one after they have been solved. She’s never been in an active case of this caliber. She is bound to get overwhelmed and think that she isn’t good enough during this first week. I suspect that she will bounce back soon enough.”

Jack wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to ask, but Hannibal saw the look of confusion on his face and continued.

“(Y/N) thinks that because she hasn’t found anything substantial yet and another body has been found, that she is not good at what she does. When in reality, she is right, we are at a standstill until we get more evidence.”

At first Crawford wasn’t sure about having Hannibal ride in the backseat through this case. But now he was thankful. Through Hannibal’s understanding of your life outside of the FBI, he was able to remind Jack that you were human and could only do so much without a breather. Something he had failed to remember with Will at times..

Jack stood up and got his jacket that was hanging on the back of his desk chair, stretching a bit as he stood up. Hannibal stood as well, anticipating a dismissal.

“I see. Well, I think we should follow (Y/N)’s example and take the rest of the night to let things settle in. Start fresh tomorrow morning. Our’s killer’s timer is reset; We got less than two weeks to catch this lunatic.”

~~~~~~~~

You were more than glad to get your keys in your door and finally be able to let your guard down. Your stomach growled as you turned the handle, thinking about the leftover pizza you had in your fridge. Before you could step too far into your apartment, you felt your shoe shift as you stepped on a piece of paper. You thought nothing of it, assuming it was a paper from one of your files that had fallen out, and plopped it on your counter, too focused on getting food heated up and getting out of your work clothes to read over it right now.

After a quick shower to get the grime of today off of you, you popped some pizza in the microwave and got dressed in your pajamas. As you took the plate out, your eyes settled on the piece of paper that was on the counter. You set down your dinner and walked over to pick it up. One side was blank but the other was a printed out screenshot of an article from the awful tabloid, Tattle Crime.

“The Virginia Scalpel Strikes Again! - A Deeper Look into the Work of a Killer and the Minds that the FBI Hired to Help Find Him.”

“Why were Dr. Pencalt and his wife targeted by the Scalpel? We still don’t know his motive, but the FBI brought on another member to their team in order to try and help answer some of our dying questions. (Y/N) Graham works within the Behavioral Science Unit at the FBI, but has never worked an active major case before this one. Which may be why we also saw Dr. Hannibal Lecter at the crime scene. We believe that she is shadowing him, learning how to run with the big dogs. The duo could be an almost unstoppable psychological force in the utility belt of Jack Crawford.

Much like her brother Will Graham, who we have talked about on this site before--”

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, not believing the shit you were seeing right now. Not only did Freddie just do the basic research on Dr. Pencalt that anyone could do from a simple google search, but then she had the gall to try to discredit your position on the team. All because she was new and Hannibal was at the crime scene with you.

You couldn’t read another demeaning word tonight.

I was shadowing Hannibal?! That’s some misogynistic crap! I don’t even want to know what she has to say when it comes to comparing me to Will. This is a new low for Hannibal or Will. Going to a TC article as a fear tactic to try to get me to resign? Not today, boys.

You were going to text them and call them out on their bullshit, but decided against it; not having the energy to deal with any more human interaction unless it was absolutely necessary. So you shoved the print-out into your work notebook and tossed it back in your work back, ignoring it until tomorrow.

For now? Pizza, wine, and a good comedy special were calling your name.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal fandom #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham / reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter / reader

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

The Bend of the Arc (1/ 4)

SUMMARY: Emma Swan hates Killian Jones at first sight. He's everything she despises in a man: arrogant, provocative, and a known criminal associate of the city’s most notorious gangster. She’s determined to put him behind bars, until a shocking event forces them together and Emma discovers that there’s a lot more to Killian than meets the eye.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @stahlop! ~ I know it’s a little early your time, but I have zero chill. Lisa, it’s been so wonderful getting to know you this past year or so, especially watching you get back into writing! You said you’d like to see my take on the enemies-to-lovers trope, and so here it is—I hope you enjoy it. Have a FANTASTIC birthday 😘😘😘

(note: Crime is soooo not my genre, but I did my best with it. If there’s anything I completely effed up it’s okay to tell me about it, but please be gentle 😘😘)

Rating: M (language and eventual smut) Words: 5.8k (of 30k total) Tags: Modern AU, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter!Emma, criminal!Killian, smut, bedsharing, stranded together

On AO3

PART ONE:

She could smell the despair the moment she walked through the door. That wasn’t unexpected; grim places frequented by grimmer people were the bread and butter of her trade and this particular grim place—a grimy hole in the wall near the harbour—bled exactly the same hopelessness as the rest of them. It was, however, not where she’d expected to locate this particular mark, and she didn’t care for the unexpected. In her line of work, unexpected could get you killed.

He was here, though, right where her informant had said she would find him, and she spotted him the moment she walked through the door. He didn’t even look out of place, despite the expensive cut of his hair and his jacket, despite his goddamned Italian shoes. He should have stood out, been chased away, should never even have known a place like this existed, and yet here he was, slumped over the bar staring moodily into his drink the same as every other sad sack in the joint.

She didn’t like it. It was unexpected.

She slid onto the barstool next to him, taking care to allow her hair to drape across his arm. He didn’t move, not so much as a twitch. She exhaled a breathy sigh. No response.

The direct approach it would have to be, then.

“Hey.” She nudged him with her elbow. “What’s good here?”

“Lass.” His eyes never left his glass. “I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree with me this evening. I’m not in the mood.”

“What mood?” She gave a light, tinkling laugh. “I just asked what’s good.”

“Try the rum.” He drained his glass and set it down firmly on the bar. “The Botucal. Only place in town that serves it. Everything else here is swill.”

He stood up and left, without so much as a glance in her direction.

I didn’t matter, though. She’d seen enough to know that it was him, and with her mark positively identified it was time to move in for the kill. She slipped off her stool and followed him out into the night, shivering in the chill breeze that blew in off the sea. She always forgot how much cooler it was near the water.

She looked around for the mark and spotted him a short distance away, walking in the direction of the marina. Probably headed for his boat, she thought. She hurried to catch him up, moving on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn’t click on the pavement.

When she reached him he was just passing the harbourmaster’s office, a small building made of weatherbeaten wooden boards and with its door secured by a heavy iron chain looped through the handles, and she smiled to herself as she extracted her handcuffs from beneath her skirt. Perfect. In one swift, practiced move, she grabbed his arm and snapped a cuff around his wrist.

“Killian Jones,” she said. “I’m here to—”

He moved faster than she would have imagined him capable, using her hold on his arm to spin her around and slam her back against the door of the office, knocking the wind out of her.

He held her there with his body pressed firmly against hers and even in her dazed state she registered the warmth and sturdiness of it, the spicy smell of his skin. His breath ruffled the fine hairs on her temple as he leaned in close to murmur in her ear. “I know precisely who you are, darling, and what you’re here to do,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “And I’m afraid I can’t allow it. You should have stayed in the bar.”

“Then I wouldn’t have caught you.” Her own voice was breathy.

“You haven’t caught me now.”

Her head snapped up at the amusement in his tone and she got a good look at his face for the first time. Even in the faint glow of the harbour lights the sight was breathtaking. Photographs really didn’t do him justice.

“Yeah? Who’s the one in cuffs?” she retorted.

There was a tug on her wrist and an ominous click, and the smile on his face became a smirk. “I believe you are, love,” he replied.

“What the fuck?” She looked down to see her own damn handcuffs, now attached to her own wrist. He held her un-cuffed wrist firmly as he looped the cuffs through the heavy chain securing the door handles then clicked the second one into place on it, chaining her to the door.

“What the fuck?” she repeated, her voice rising to a shriek as she tugged on the chain. “How the hell did you—”

“Come now, you must have read my files. I dare say you know more about me than I do myself.” He held up a small leather case that she recognised as a set of lock picks and regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Did it never occur to you that I might be able to get myself out of handcuffs? No?” He clucked his tongue. “That is a shame.”

She tugged at the chain again, “Let me go!”

“I fear that’s impossible, darling. As I told you before I can’t allow you to take me in. I have business to attend that won’t wait while I spend the night in a cell.”

“It’ll be a lot more than one night!”

“It won’t be any nights. Also a shame. I wouldn’t mind at all spending a night with you, particularly one in which bars and handcuffs feature prominently.” He leaned in close to her again, dragging his nose up her cheek as his hand curled around her hip, thumb stroking just above the apex of her thighs. She snarled in outrage and he chuckled. “Beautiful, fiery woman like you,” he growled into her ear. “I’ve no doubt you’d make it memorable.”

“I wouldn’t—” She was so furious she could barely speak. “Never—not in a million—not if you—the last man—”

He chuckled again and stepped back. “Aye, love, I get the picture. Not if I were the last man on Earth, et cetera et cetera. I could change your mind, of course—” he smirked at her furious snarl “—but alas I’ve no time.”

He shrugged off his jacket and moved to drape it around her shoulders and she recoiled with a hiss. “Get the fuck away from me!”

“Now, darling, you may be here for some time. It’s a chilly night and you are, if you’ll forgive me, not appropriately attired for the sea air. Don’t freeze to death out of spite. If nothing else it’d be a highly embarrassing way to die.”

She ground her teeth, but when he stepped forward again she allowed him to tuck the jacket around her shoulders. She hadn’t registered just how cold she was until engulfed in its warmth, in heat carried by his body and still bearing his spicy scent. His fingertips brushed the nape of her neck as he pulled her hair free of the jacket and she shivered, not from the cold this time.

“Such a shame,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“You’ll pay for this,” she spat.

“As much as I hate to keep contradicting you, darling, no I won’t.” He smoothed the jacket over her shoulders and gave them a little pat. “Now you just sit tight right here and I’ll send someone to collect you. Let’s hope they don’t take too long.”

He backed away with his eyes still on her, tilting his head to the side and biting down on his lower lip. Fury surged through her and she yanked at the chains again, letting out a guttural shriek when he simply laughed and turned away. She kept her eyes on him as he strolled along the waterfront like a man without a care in the world, until he turned onto one of the piers and disappeared from view.

“Emma?”

The voice, masculine and familiar, jolted her from her half-doze and she lifted her head, blinking in the harsh glare of a flashlight and trying to focus.

“Is that—Graham?”

“Fucking hell, Emma, it is you! I thought he was—here, let me get you out of those cuffs.”

Emma struggled up from the awkward crouching position she’d been in as Graham put his flashlight away and took out his keys. “Graham, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.”

He undid the cuffs and waited as she stood up straight and stretched her aching arms and shoulders.

“How did you know where I was?” she asked, reaching out her hand for her cuffs.

He held them out to her, but when she took them didn’t let go. “Emma,” he said solemnly.

“What?”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“What?” She tugged on the cuffs and he released them. “What the fuck is going on, Graham? Tell me!”

He sighed. “I need you to stop chasing Killian Jones.”

“What?”

“Come on. We need to go to the station and then I’ll explain.”

“He’s working undercover!?”

“Yeah.” Graham’s face was solemn, with no hint of the smile he usually had for her. “He is. For over two years now.”

“Two years? Fuck.”

“Exactly. But it’s nearly over. We’re so close, Emma, to the biggest RICO case of the last fifty years. We can shut down Pan’s whole operation in one move, but all of it, everything, hinges on Jones. We need him.”

Emma’s lip curled. “And what does he get out of it? Immunity, I suppose.”

“Yes. His record will be completely expunged. Clean slate.”

“But he’s a criminal!”

Graham sighed and rubbed his temples. “They all are, Emma.”

“See, this is why I never wanted to be a cop,” she sneered, leaning back in her chair. They were sitting in an interrogation room in Graham’s precinct, surrounded by confidential files and cold coffee. “You ignore the crimes of one asshole in exchange for getting your hands on a bigger asshole. But that still leaves the first asshole loose on the streets, and with a clean slate this time. How is that justice?”

“Justice is never perfect,” said Graham shortly. “Nothing is. We do the best we can.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“It has to be, because it’s all we’ve got.” He leaned across the table, his eyes intense. “Emma, listen to me. Jones believes you actually did him a favour tonight. He’d been getting the sense that Pan no longer fully trusted him, but being actively pursued for a freaking eight-year-old bench warrant of all things seems to have brought him back in the boss’s good graces. That is the only, and I do mean only reason you are not in some serious fucking shit right now.”

“What, for doing my job?” Emma scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I not seem fucking serious?” snapped Graham. “Did you not hear me say this is the biggest case in half a century? Do you not understand the goddamn consequences if it goes wrong, especially now?”

“I—”

“Let me be perfectly clear about this. You cannot bring Jones in. If you do, this precinct will never work with you again, and neither will any of the others once they hear about it.”

“But I—”

“And that’s not all. I’ve put you in serious danger by giving you this information. I’m sorry for that, but I knew you wouldn’t back off just because I asked you to. And frankly we are all in fucking danger. Jones’s cover is as deep as it gets and the position he’s in right now is deadly precarious. If he’s blown before we can close the case it won’t just be him who dies. Do you hear what I’m saying, Emma?”

She nodded, too frustrated for speech.

“I’m trusting you, trusting your discretion and hoping like fuck that this one time you can leave your damn principles at the door and be realistic. Forget about Killian Jones. Not for his sake, for your own.”

It was the biggest RICO case in fifty years, and it went off without a hitch. Every member of Pan’s criminal organisation was arrested, from the kids who ran the street-level scams right up to the boss himself. Moles that had been embedded in the police department for decades were rooted out and an entire network of sham businesses collapsed. Crime in the city came screeching to a halt as even Pan’s competitors scrambled for cover.

The evidence against them was solid, detailed and airtight, and one by one every single mob canary begged to sing. Fingers were pointing in every direction, many at each other but most of them straight at Pan, and the district attorney was confident that with a bit of manoeuvring she could see every last one of them behind bars for a very long time.

Every one but Killian Jones.

He was never mentioned by name in any of the reports or the news articles, simply referred to as ‘an undercover informant’. But Emma knew. He’d done one job and now he was free and clear, and the fact that he had spent ten years as Pan’s right hand didn’t even seem to faze the police.

“How do you know he won’t just step into the power vacuum left by Pan?” she demanded of Graham one afternoon, as he processed the paperwork for a shoplifter she’d brought in. “Someone’s going to.”

“It won’t be him.”

“But how can you know?”

“I trust him.”

Emma stared, unable to believe her ears. “I can’t believe I ever considered dating you,” she spat. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“You considered dating me?” Graham repeated, gaping at her.

She shrugged. “Yeah, for like half a second, back when we first met. You were hinting pretty heavily and honestly? I don’t shit where I eat, otherwise I probably would have said yes. But that was before I found out you trust criminals.”

“Not criminals. Criminal, singular. Just this one.”

“But why?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“God damn it, Graham!”

Graham set his jaw stubbornly. “Look, Emma, I get that you feel betrayed and I’m sorry for that. But this is how the police work. It’s legal and it’s final. Killian’s record is clean now. Leave him alone.”

But she couldn’t. She did try, as much as she was able, but Emma Swan could never let anything go once her sense of outrage had been triggered and she couldn’t think about Killian Jones or anything related to him without outrage. She still had the jacket he’d left her in, hung in her closet right next to her own so that every time she donned the red leather she saw it there, mocking her, keeping her anger burning fierce and hot.

And so she watched him. Subtly, because she could be fucking subtle, using her own network of informants that the cops didn’t know about. She tracked his movements, all his comings and goings from his house to his offices, and she traced his business dealings, bank records, tax reports, everything and anything she could get her hands on.

It was all clean. He was never seen in any of Pan’s old haunts or associating with anyone remotely shady, his accounts showed a healthy income from legitimate sources. Businesses he had set up as part of his role in Pan’s organisation and then cleaned up once Pan was taken down.

And yet. There was too much income, Emma felt. It was too clean. Too much money, too many businesses, far too quickly. Leopards, as the cliche goes, do not change their spots, and Emma was certain that Killian Jones was as spotted as they came. She just wished she knew how he was hiding them.

The elegant marble foyer of the Gold mansion was the furthest imaginable thing from a grimy dockside dive bar but the smell of despair was here as well, just of a different kind. The despair of people who have more money than they could ever spend and are still unhappy, who have come to realise that however many cars or jewels or houses they buy the emptiness inside them remains.

At least the other smells were better. Emma inhaled deeply as she entered, breathing in the aromas of a dozen different perfumes and colognes, along with some mouthwatering canapés of which she fully intended to partake. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to wrangle this invitation, she might as well enjoy herself.

Snagging a glass of champagne from one passing tray and a mini crab soufflé topped with caviar from another, she sauntered into the room, deliberately drawing and ignoring the eyes upon her. The dress she wore was far subtler than her usual work attire, long and flowing and draped in a way that suggested far more than it revealed. Its deep crimson hue flattered her pale hair and skin and the faint shimmer in the fabric caught the light as she moved.

Emma popped the last bite of soufflé into her mouth and resisted the urge to lick her fingers. Instead she sipped her champagne and looked around for another tray. One passed by bearing what looked like tiny donuts and she almost dove to grab one. Biting into it, she found that it was savoury and filled with a feather-light truffled chicken mousse. She closed her eyes on a moan of delight, and when she opened them again Killian Jones was standing in front of her, watching her with an expression she found deeply objectionable.

“Well, darling, I do hope you’re not here for me this time,” he said.

Emma sneered. “I’m not.”

“Learnt our lesson, have we?” he replied with a smirk.

She ground her teeth. “I’ve simply got bigger fish to hook,” she said.

“Indeed. Considering that I am an entirely innocent man.”

She snorted.

“That infuriates you, doesn’t it,” he observed, smirk deepening. “That I walked free.”

Nearly a year’s worth of frustration and righteous fury bubbled up inside Emma, bursting forth before she could stop it. “It’s not right!” she exclaimed. “It’s not justice!”

“No, it’s just not perfect justice. Though one certainly could argue that a decade spent under the thumb of a madman is more than enough punishment for whatever crimes I committed.”

Something in his voice troubled her, a pained sincerity that niggled at her conscience. She ignored it. “Rationalise it all you like, if it helps you sleep at night,” she retorted.

“Oh, I have no trouble sleeping,” he said, stepping closer and leaning into her space, hips first. “Though occasionally I do forgo it voluntarily, in favour of more… enjoyable activities.”

“You’re filthy.”

“I certainly can be,” he purred. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want nothing from you.”

“Well love, we both know that’s not true.”

“Oh do we?”

“We do. You’re something of an open book, you see.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am the opposite of that.”

“You’d like to be. But for those who know how to look, your tells are obvious.”

“Bullshit.”

He shifted, standing straighter and observing her with blue eyes that went, between one blink and the next, from flirtatious to coolly assessing, sharply analytical. She felt a flare of alarm in her chest, and the worrying suspicion that she may have underestimated him.

“The relaxed posture,” he said. “That’s one. You’re a woman of action, rarely still. If you stop moving you start thinking, and you, Emma Swan, hate nothing more than being in your own head. You’re tense all the time unless you’re pretending not to be, as you are now. Playing the role of carefree society girl, perfectly at home in these glittering surroundings where you are in actual fact deeply uncomfortable.”

She attempted a laugh. “Maybe I’m just having a good time.”

“You’re holding that glass so tightly you’re in danger of snapping the stem, and you’re digging the heel of your shoe into the floor. It takes a lot of effort to maintain that outward calm, which is why you don’t normally bother. You hate artifice, bullshit as you would call it, and your plan tonight is to get in, get your mark and get out. After you’ve eaten your fill of the food, that is.” The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “Do correct me if any of this is wrong.”

“It’s all wrong,” she snapped.

“Now, love, don’t you start to bullshit.”

Emma’s fingers clenched tighter on the champagne glass and she deliberately forced them to relax. “Why don’t you just leave me alone,” she hissed.

His eyes softened, and heated with an expression that made her belly clench. “Because you intrigue me,” he murmured.

“Well you disgust me.”

He laughed. “Liar.”

“How dare you—”

He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, his fingers close enough that she could feel the heat of them but not their touch, and when he spoke again his voice was rough. “You’ve a delightful pale pink flush all across your skin, your pupils are dilated, your breathing shallow. And your pulse—” His hand glided down her arm and wrapped around her wrist, fingertips pressing gently onto her pulse point. “It’s racing, love. I don’t require any special skills to pick up on these tells.” He caught her gaze, his own heated and intense. “Would it help if I confessed that the attraction is entirely mutual?”

“No!”

“Pity.”

She tried to pull her arm from his grip but he held fast, leaning closer still to murmur in her ear. “He’s over by the fountain.”

She wouldn’t look, thought Emma. She wouldn’t. She closed her eyes as Killian released her and the heat and intoxicating scent of him moved away. She didn’t want his help, didn’t need it. Resented it. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking and of course there he was. Her mark, standing in front of the fountain at the centre of the room.

“How the hell did you know—” she spun around but Killian was gone.

Emma took a deep breath and then another, to calm herself and focus her concentration on her task. She smoothed her hair and the front of her dress and tossed back the rest of her champagne, gave her boobs a little boost and headed for the mark, a soft smile on her face and a gentle swing in her hips.

She had crossed about half the distance between them when he tensed visibly and his shoulders shifted, like he was trying to pull them back and stand straight but was defeated by the power of his own sullen slouch. For a moment she thought he might have made her, but his eyes were fixed on something across the room, something—or someone—blocked from her view by the fountain. Emma slowed her pace, keeping her distance until he made whatever move he had planned. For several seconds he stared intently at whatever, whoever, held his attention and then he nodded, shoulders slumping even lower than they’d been before, and moved on surprisingly light and agile feet towards a small door behind the foyer’s grand staircase. With a quick glance around the room he slipped silently though it and a moment later Emma followed.

Behind the door was a long, shadowy hallway that fulfilled her every expectation of what a mansion corridor should look like. The carpet beneath her feet was so thick that her steps made no sound as she followed the mark, past paintings and statues and even an honest-to-goodness suit of armour. She felt her jaw drop as she took it all in, until the mark turned a corner and she had to speed up her pursuit so as not to lose him.

She made it around the corner in time to catch a glimpse of him disappearing through a door, and when she reached it she found that it hadn’t fully shut. She slipped her foot through the gap and eased it open until she could see into the room beyond.

It looked like a museum. Or at least what she imagined museums should look like; she hadn’t visited many. It was a vast room that felt curiously airless, with tall ceilings and no widows, panelled entirely in wood. The same wood that made up the many low tables scattered over more of the same thick rugs that lined the hallway. Upon each of these tables a statue stood. Women, mostly, and some men, all naked. Made of marble, Emma imagined, though she was hardly an expert. Weren’t statues generally made of marble? They were definitely some kind of stone, or she supposed possibly plaster. It was hard to tell the difference from so far away.

Tentatively she nudged the door and when it made no noise pushed it open further and slipped into the room, weaving through the statues in search of her mark. A voice spoke just ahead and to her right and she moved quickly over the silent carpets, stopping when she caught sight of a pair of polished shoes and the tip of a black cane, and ducking behind a statue, out of sight of the man who spoke.

“So,” he said, his voice cold and without inflection, and with a hint of an accent she couldn’t place. “Do you have it?”

“I—” the mark began.

“Do not disappoint me, Felix,” the cold voice interrupted. “You would not like for me to be disappointed.”

Emma crouched down and peeked around the leg of the statue that shielded her, just enough so she could see both men clearly. The mark, Felix, was in his early twenties, with a sullen face to match his posture and lank blond hair that fell into his eyes. He’d been arrested for loitering two months ago and missed his court date, but there was nothing else on his record worse than a few shoplifting charges and possession with intent. This meeting, this whole damn situation, seemed well above his pay grade and she should have known that, Emma berated herself. She should have smelled a rat from the start, but instead she’d let herself be distracted by canapés and by Killian goddamn Jones, and forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.

She could almost hear Felix’s terrified gulp. “I—I couldn’t get it,” he whined. “Jones said—”

“Do not speak to me of Killian Jones,” hissed the other man, a slight, elegantly dressed one with long hair and a thin face in which teeth and eyes were prominent. “I will deal with him when the time is right. For now—” He lifted his cane and Felix cringed.

“No, sir, please. I’ll get it I promise—”

“Your promises are worthless to me,” said the elegant man, with a reptilian smile that made Emma’s skin crawl. He was enjoying this, she realised, feeding off of Felix’s terror and craven grovelling as he slowly advanced. He twisted the head of his cane and with a faint swish and a mechanical clank a long, sharp blade appeared from the end of it. Felix stared at the blade, frozen in fear.

“They are, in fact,” the elegant man continued, closing the remaining distance between them, “as worthless as you are.” He bared his teeth and plunged the blade into Felix’s heart.

Emma gasped. She couldn’t help it. For all the hardships she’d suffered in her life—the uncaring foster families, the time on the streets, the teenage pregnancy—she had never witnessed a crime more serious than petty theft and drug dealing. Nothing like cold-blooded murder. She would have liked to think herself tough enough to handle the sight without flinching but she was overcome by the sheer horror of it. The blood that bloomed across Felix’s shirt and the way the life drained from his body. The cold, cold triumph of the man who killed him. It was the worst thing she’d ever seen, could ever imagine seeing, and though she clapped her hand across her mouth it was too late. The noise of her indrawn breath was loud in the room’s still air and the man looked sharply at her. He couldn’t see her behind the statue—she didn’t think he could—but he knew precisely where she was.

“Well, well,” he said. “It appears we have a loose end.”

Emma ran. She didn’t hesitate or stop to think, just leapt up from her crouch and sprinted, as fast as her high heels and the confusing layout of the statues would allow. She had no idea if the man had any backups—he seemed the sort who would, though she hadn’t seen or heard anyone but himself and Felix—but she knew that no matter what it was riskier to try to hide than just to run, to put as much distance between herself and the man as she could and try to get away.

She headed straight for where she thought the door was but soon found herself disoriented. There was no clear path through the statues and they all looked the same—white limbs and torsos atop identical tables, on a carpet with the same repeating pattern, in a room with no markings of any kind on the walls. She could hear the man behind her, his steady breathing as he pursued her across the thick carpet, not running, of course not, because doing so would tire him and that steady, deliberate pace was far more terrifying, damn him, and she tried to run faster, grabbing blindly at a small piece of statue as she passed. It was lighter than she’d expected—perhaps plaster then, not stone—and she flung it back the way she’d come, not looking at where it flew, not stopping to see what it hit when it crashed and shattered behind her.

She reached the wall but there was no door on it, just identical wooden panels repeating all along its length. One of those must be the door, Emma thought. There had to be a door, she’d come in through one. She began to feel along the wall looking for a knob or a button or a loose join, anything at all that might trigger it to open. Now that she was no longer running she felt her fear much more acutely, gripping her chest and clouding her mind and edging her dangerously close to panic.

“I don’t know who you are,” called the elegant man’s voice, from much closer behind her than she’d hoped. “But I’m very much taken with your lovely hair and that glorious red dress. Very… memorable, both of them. Very distinct.”

Emma’s search for the door grew frantic. She tried to keep calm and focused but all she could think was that she was alone in this room with a murderer. An absolutely remorseless killer was mere feet behind her and there was no door. There was no fucking door and that meant no escape. She was trapped here in this airless, noiseless place and she was going to die.

A sob rose in her throat, almost drowning the soft click to her left. The panel next to her swung open and she could just make out the silhouette of a man among the shadows of the hallway beyond. Was this the backup, then, she wondered? A henchman come to block her escape, force her back into the clutches of the elegant man? The appearance of this new threat snapped her back into herself, gave her something to do, and she seized on that with desperate relief. Holding herself loose but alert she bent her knees, settled her weight over the balls of her feet and prepared to defend herself as best she could. It wasn’t likely she could stop them killing her, but she could damned well make it difficult, and now that the door was open she had at least a slim chance of escape.

The shadows shifted as the man in the doorway reached out with a speed and deftness of movement she’d seen only once before, and quicker than she could react he grabbed her and yanked her against him, clapping his hand over her mouth and pinning her arms to her sides, pulling her back through the door and letting it fall shut behind them. When it had latched with another soft click, the man swung Emma to one side and gave the door a sharp kick with the heel of his shoe, jamming the delicate mechanism that controlled it.

Emma seized the advantage of his momentary imbalance to try to struggle free, wriggling in his loosened grasp and aiming a kick at his instep, but again he was too quick for her. He shifted his weight to avoid her swinging foot and adjusted his hold, tucking her tightly against his side and dragging her with him as he headed away from the door, moving rapidly despite her furious squirming, along the hallway and down a darkened stairwell and through a side door of the mansion then out into the night.

“I have a car waiting,” he growled in her ear, picking up their pace now they were out of the house. “It’s idling at the end of this driveway. If you don’t get in it, right now, you will die. Don’t make me tie you up, Swan. As much as I would enjoy that in other circumstances.”

Emma could see the car he meant, the only one in the long driveway that was running. When they reached it she dug her heels hard into the loose gravel beneath them, throwing Killian Jones—because of course it was fucking him—off balance just enough that his grip loosened and she was able to jam her elbow into his ribs, wriggling away when he huffed in pain.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked.

“Keep your voice down,” he snarled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back again. He scowled down at her, his eyes angry and frustrated and scared. It was the fear that caught Emma’s attention, made her pause. “I should bloody well let him kill you,” Killian muttered. “But instead I am going to save your life, whether you like it or not. Now get in the damned car, woman.”

Emma yanked her arm from his grasp and this time he let her go. They stood glaring at each other, breathing hard, gripped by a very similar anger and, more worryingly, the exact same fear.

“Why should I trust you?” she demanded.

“You have no earthly reason to,” he replied. “But that man you saw in the gallery, that is Robert Gold, and however vile you think me I assure you he is a hundred times worse. The devil or the deep blue sea, take your pick, love.”

Emma stared at him, searching for the lie, for the deceit she knew had to be there. But there was none. For the first time in their acquaintance he was being completely serious, and completely honest. Damn it.

She got in the car.

Millions of thanks to @thisonesatellite and @ohmightydevviepuu for holding my hand in this unfamiliar genre. Also, tagging everyone who showed an interest in the snippet of this I posted a few weeks ago. If you don’t want to be tagged in further updates, PLEASE let me know 😘 @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @katie-dub @spartanguard @darkcolinodonorgasm @courtorderedcake @squidvisious @cluttermind @teamhook

#cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs ff au #modern au #bounty hunter!emma #criminal!killian #enemies to lovers #birthday fic #stahlop #the bend of the arc #profdanglaisstuff

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novantinuum · 4 years

Text

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 11

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 3000~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Lapis is a flight risk, and Steven begins to doubt himself.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well.

Chapter 10: Beta, Part 2

When your life has become a continually evolving string of heart pounding adventures linked together by the odd few days off, you quickly learn to fixate on the fine details no matter what the circumstance, as you never know when one of those details could be used to save everyone’s butts. Sure, it’s not like this outlook did him any favors back in the forge, but his point still stands: a Steven who isn’t constantly paying close attention to his surroundings is a Steven who can’t properly help his friends. If he’s not innately aware of everything around him, he can’t raise his shield in time. He won’t be able to pull the right tool out of his cheeseburger backpack. He can’t give a perfectly worded response to a soul in need. This is a non-negotiable fact, and the reality of what happened with Bismuth merely cements it ever more solid. Which is why— deep beyond the wandering disorientation of his current surface thoughts— he can’t help but wonder why he’s unable to pay attention to the details that actually matter right now. The individual threads of all his friends’ panic, confusion, and attempted explanation overlap and intertwine, weaving an audible tapestry of emotions. Their precise words, however, may as well have died in the wind. Mentally, he is not here. Instead, the fragmented remains of his focus choose to zero in on the wood grain pattern spread across every beam and board of the barn’s rustic infrastructure. Wholly enamored, his eyes trace a path between the dark ridges as if traversing a maze. Tree rings are super pretty, huh. He absolutely doesn’t give them the love and admiration they deserve. But as is evident from the slight musty smell and the dainty mushrooms beginning to sprout by the floor in one of the corners, some of the boards are beginning to rot. His mouth falls slightly ajar, and he stares at these fruiting bodies with such stubborn commitment that for a moment he forgets anything else was ever a priority. Have Peridot and Lapis noticed? Do they even know what wood rot is? Upon that thought, he frowns pensively, balling his fist at his chin. Hmm. Given their relative inexperience with Earth stuff, the most likely answer to that is no. He’ll have to call Dad about fixing the boards before this grows into an even bigger problem. It’d be awful if their home became unsafe to live in because he didn’t do his part to help. But then again... “What do you mean, none of you know why she did it? That just makes it worse!” “Lapis! Lapis, wait! They said she’s—“ “Let go of me!” she says, struggling in Peridot’s grasp, her water wings flaring outwards at the ready. “Don’t you get it? I can’t live here on Earth anymore, it’s not safe! None of us are safe!” Is he already too late?

Lapis’s impassioned cries continue to echo at the edge of his awareness— something paranoid about shapeshifted disguises, about the Diamonds— but his feet are still anchored to the boards below, his body all but stagnant in shock of the current maelstrom of emotions. And yet, it’s strange... while a sum of him dimly recognizes he’s still attached to reality, it’s almost as if he’s watching all of this from above himself, stuck as a passive observer to his failure. Helpless. ( C-cracked, I’m- I’m cracked, I’m split I, I can’t... feel... need... I-I need to —) Slimy tendrils of guilt slither around his heart. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the mood. He wasn’t careful. He wasn’t convincing. He was scared that everyone would devolve into petty argument, and look what happened! He ran his mouth when he should’ve stayed silent. He caused his own nightmare. His family’s splintering apart once more, and it’s all his fault. “But it’s not like that,” Ruby hastily interjects, “I’m sure it’s not like that!” “Really? You’re seriously jumping to defend Rose, after all the lies she fed us?” Amethyst spits back. “N- no! I’m just saying, why would—“ The constant chirping chorus emanating from the birds of the nearby woods steals his fragmented focus next, and he can’t help the sense of relief that bubbles up from within as he willfully sinks into the distraction. The birds, their songs are beautiful. He wonders what they’re saying to each other... if they’re arguing about territory, warning friends about predators, or simply having a friendly conversation. Maybe his dad might be able to distinguish the difference. When he was still living in the van, they used to lay on that ratty old mattress side-by-side late at night, listening to the crashing tides and the distant squalls of birds picking at trashed food on the boardwalk. Because one of his relatives was big into birding when they were kids, Dad was always able to stake a reasonable guess on the species class based on call alone. And honestly, that’s a pretty amazing power to have. As he related earlier, it’s important to fixate on the fine details. Attention to detail can save lives. It can soften hearts. It can make or break friendships. But as he’s grown to fear, it can’t fix everything. He can’t fix everything. The blue Gem’s features twist with simmering fury. “Peridot, I told you to let me go!” she hollers, and in a single jerk rips herself away from the shorter Gem’s desperate embrace. Her wings swing like a whip behind her as her body follows the motion through. It’s enough of a shock to the system that his sense of awareness comes rushing back. He ducks, the water swishing right over his head. Something behind him snaps and clatters to the ground. Ruby presses a bejeweled hand to her face, muttering something he can’t distinguish. “‘Kay, I’m out,” Amethyst cuts in through the chaos, throwing her hands up. “Y’all are whack, this whole convo is whack, and I can’t deal with any of this right now.” Not wasting a single second, she tucks herself into a ball and super-speeds it out of the barn. Mouth caught in a tiny, helpless ‘o,’ Steven whisks around, only barely catching a glimpse of her retreat before he spots the damage. It’s one of Lapis’s morps, that wooden hanger displaying all the baseball paraphernalia. Now it lies rejected on the floorboards, one of the strings broken and the bat rolling towards Peridot’s feet. He watches, feeling lambasted with regret for his role in sparking this argument, as the green Gem’s face cripples much like the structural integrity of that meep-morp. She blinks away the threat of tears and quickly averts her gaze from the group, bending to pick up the bat before clutching it to her chest in a protective manner. The water Gem huffs and storms out of the barn as well, fists unyielding at her side. Heart pounding amidst all the uncertainty of this fraught situation, Steven scuttles after her. Come on, think! he snaps at himself, chewing pensively at his lip. There has to be a way he can still save this, a way he can stop his family from splintering apart yet again... “Lapis,” Ruby begins, delicately edging towards her. “No, stop,” she holds up a hand. Her expression— as nebulous and hard to ascertain as always— is caught at some weird nexus between blinding anger, terror, and... is that guilt he spies? “Stop talking! I’m not asking any of you to change my mind. I’m leaving, and all of you should be too!” Turning on her heels, she squares her stance and flares her wings to their full width in preparation for her flight. Just before those watery wings can beat downwards, propelling her lithe form away from his world forever, he leaps forward. Dares to grab her wrist. She sharply inhales, briefly tugging against him before she notices who the hand belongs to and falls slack in his hold. Static assails his mind as he assesses every angle of this jerk-moment decision. What on earth is he doing? (He can practically feel Ruby and Peridot’s anxious, curious gaze drilling into him from behind, and they’re not even in his line of sight. No matter what happens, this is all on him. No one else.) “I-I, um,” he stammers at first, desperately scouring his brain for the right words to say. “Please, I’m... You don’t have to be scared like this. I may have her gem, but I’m not her!” Lapis gives a shaky sigh. Her wings droop right along with her shoulders, the persistent burden of thousands of years of captivity evident within her posture. Waiting in the shadow of her silence, his focus falls on the gemstone adoring her back, that smooth, glossy teardrop. Golly, somehow it doesn’t feel that long ago at all that her gem was cracked, and— scared, angered, and confused— she lashed out in much a similar way. “I’ve always known you’re not your mom, Steven,” she says lowly, still not meeting his gaze. “This- this isn’t about that!” “Then... what is it about?” She growls in frustration, clenching her fists as she yanks her wrist away from his grip. “Have none of you been listening to me?” “Have you been listening to us?” Peridot mutters flatly from behind him.

Lapis shoots her a sour look, but continues, pacing across the grass as she speaks. “If one diamond was able to fool an entire empire into thinking she was a quartz for thousands of years,” she says, gesticulating to emphasize her words, “then- then how do we know the other Diamonds aren’t already here doing the same, already watching from a distance, just waiting to shatter us for everything we’ve done??” The sharpened words echo across the fields, familiar bird calls cut short as even nature falls silent in their sway. Steven stands motionless, her paranoia-tinted prophecy sinking in through his flesh despite all efforts otherwise, sowing roots in the darkest corners of his mind that he dare not peep into. When no one responds, the blue Gem exhales, lowering her face to the ground. “I’ve let my guard down too much here, I’ve let myself grow soft. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He swears he hears a note of disappointment laced between the layers of her uneven breath, or perhaps it’s heartbreak. He can’t tell. Despite his usual aptitude at interpreting others’ feelings, Lapis is consistently hard to read. And it’s this very thought, this subtle dissonance from the expected in her intentions, that encourages him to reach out one last time. Her wings flare out again. Blood and hard light thrum at an almost dizzying pace through his parallel veins. It’s now or never.

“Lapis, wait!” he calls, palm open wide. “Please, please don’t leave! Not now, not like this.” Their world crystallizes into ice as he vies to meet her fears head on. There’s no sunlight, no bird calls, no wind, no Ruby and Peridot behind him. No more untimely distractions. Only Lapis, desperate and hurting amid the heart of the storm she created. She holds her wings taut, ready for flight, hovering at the edge of her metaphoric tower. Breath trembling, she glances behind. The sheer complexity of emotion Steven discovers in those sea blue irises almost makes his eyes water. Cautiously, he steps forward.

“Maybe you’re right,” he begins, fidgeting with his shirt’s bottom hemline. His fingers briefly brush against the edge of his gem as he does so, and he jerks them away in blind rebellion of this reminder. “Maybe this planet never will be completely safe. Maybe nothing ever goes to plan. But the Crystal Gems have survived this long because they stood together instead of breaking apart. A-and... I know you don’t think of yourself as a Crystal Gem,” he cuts in quickly with a placating gesture, noticing the question forming on her lips, “but please-! With everything else that’s happening, I really, really still want you in my life.”

Tightly, she wrings her fingers around her opposite arm, face dipping dolefully towards the soft soil squishing up between her bare toes. “Steven, I...” “I can’t promise you’ll be safe on Earth, but I can promise you won’t have to be alone,” he says, voice thick. “Please.” Stay, he mouths, his body nearly shaking in fear of how she’ll respond, of all the inner thoughts flooding through her mind he’ll never wholly decipher. Their gaze locks, souls laid bare to each other as they engage in a rapid-fire dialogue no other creature of this world will ever be privy to.

If you can't stay for yourself, he cries silently, can’t you stay for me?

The seconds are punctuated only by the reverberant tremor of his heartbeat, as he stands upon a precipice in wait of her pivotal, defining answer.

Eventually, her expression softens. She folds her wings, standing down.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll wait and see what happens... for now. But if I ever find out any of the Diamonds are inbound, or worse? I’m out of here.”

A stiff gust of wind rushes past, threading through her hair and causing her dress to undulate like mid-ocean waves. Shadow obscures her face.

“I’m not getting pulled into another war.” Giving no further explanation, she turns tail and storms past the tent, past the rickety fence bordering her and Peridot’s barn, and into the overgrown wildflower field beyond. Once she’s reached a far enough distance, she extends her wings and begins to fly, hastily disappearing beyond the tree-line. Everyone stares at the thick swath of forest she escaped to with dumbfounded shock at first, no one quite sure how to proceed after that bomb of a conversation stopper. Ruby mutters something under her breath, clear frustration coloring her voice. Behind him, he hears Peridot reverently set the bat down on the barn’s floor.

“I’m... gonna go find her, and help her calm down,” she says. Clutching her hands close to her chest, she passes him and Ruby and begins her long, flightless trek into the Beach City woods. Steven himself migrates towards the grassy patch beyond the pool, and falls to his knees amongst the dandelions growing there. Most of them are still flowering, their lithe golden yellow petals fanning out from the head. A few on a separate plant are white and puffy, though, ready to disperse seeds. He’s drawn to one in particular, a seedhead that’s already missing half of its progeny. Biologically, he knows it’s a good thing that those seeds have flown away and might get a chance to germinate elsewhere, but regardless the sight of this lonely, barren dandelion strikes a dour note. Was he wrong, asking Lapis to stay? Could she eventually heal and become happier, leaving the burden of this place? He swallows hard, gripping the balding seedhead between two fingers and decisively plucking it off the stem. A few more seeds blow off with the disturbance, their feathery parachutes falling into the arms of the wind.

Lapis...

What if his selfishness is only holding her back?

And then there’s Amethyst to worry about. There’s no point overextending the sad dandelion metaphor to fit her situation, because hers is something entirely unique. She’s still in his life, just emotionally closed-off. Bitter. Avoidant. Unfairly antagonistic to others. By inviting her out here he hoped she might take the opportunity to kick back and blow off some steam, but now, after watching her abruptly leave the group a few minutes ago, he’s worried this trip only succeeded in further stressing her out.

A gem adorned hand falls upon his shoulder then, pulling him to the present. With a startled yelp, he tosses the dandelion into the grass as he flinches away. His heart drums uncontrollably, so much so that his cheeks burn with embarrassment when it dawns on him who this hand belongs to. He sucks in a shaky breath to calm himself down before allowing himself to sink into her comfort, glancing behind to meet Ruby’s tired, kind eyes. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asks. His tongue suddenly feeling as limp and dry as all the fallen leaves beginning to sprinkle the ground, he nods his head yes. In an overt betrayal of his response, his big, stupid, puffy eyes begin to water. Hurriedly, he wipes the burgeoning tears away with the butt of his palm. Frustration bubbles at his core. Since when was he such a crybaby? He’s cried far too much lately, and he’s sick of it. He rubs harder as the tears begin to fall anyways, his bottom lip quivering as he vies with every last ounce of control he still has to not look entirely pathetic. The skin around his eyes, sensitive and raw, begins to sting from the friction. Wordlessly, Ruby wraps her hands around his wrists and leads them away from his face. His chest tightens. He fails to choke back a sob as she pulls him into her embrace, his own arms trapped between them. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, and it’s then that he realizes with a shock of surprise that she’s crying too. Her quiet tears dampen his collar; her fingers clutch at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong for us all the time,” she says softly. “I wanna be here for you too, okay? It’s just like you said... no matter what, we stand together.” “But I- I have to go find her,” he chokes out, the words sticking in his throat in the most pathetic manner. “Who, Lapis? Peridot‘s prolly fine handling her on her own.” “No, I mean Amethyst. I saw her run off, an, and she’s been so upset today, and...” “Steven,” she says, leaning away and gently lifting his chin so he can’t avoid her compassionate gaze. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and honestly? A lot of it’s been our fault. You should take a moment to rest, okay?” Grinning, she ruffles his hair. “Enjoy the breeze! Climb a tree! Kick back for once. I’ll check on Amethyst this time.”

He hoarsely whispers an ‘okay’ as he sits back on his heels in the sun and watches her run off, allowing the wind to whip through his curls. Sighing, he splays his fingers just above the grass, allowing their tips to gently tickle his palm as they brush back and forth, and futilely tries to convince himself he’s cultivated enough good into the world today to deserve this break.

#su #steven universe #su fanfic #su fanfiction #lapis lazuli #ruby #peridot #amethyst #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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queensdivas · 5 years

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Hidden Blade Chapter 1

Y’all I’ve been to excited for this because I loved this movie with a passion. (Nothing beats Bohrap btw but damn 6 Underground was awesome not just because of Ben. Though he really made the movie even better.) If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters please hmu!

Please enjoy and I’ll see you guys in the next chapter or one of my updates. I’m on a train ride to London from Edinburgh so it’s about five hours. I plan on getting a crap done this ride so you might be seeing multiple updates!

Enjoy!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Governments should always be in fear of who they govern over..those who are being governed should never be living in fear of who they are ruled over. Yet we live in a world where those in power abuse it badly so they can live the lavish life of the vices, greed, lust, and even the gluttony of having everything at their feet. Those who suffer under those sadly are living in a society in fear, hate, and uncertainty of whether they’ll be okay by the end of the day.

That’s where I come in.

You have to start somewhere small in order to cause a chain reaction. That lovely snowball effect. I start small by cutting off the suppliers resources, such as their plants, dirty shacks, and even the old warehouses. Once the resources are extinguished, I then move up to those in high up positions in order to really cause the rolling to begin.

Yet I was given an opportunity to do a little more good with a lot less strings attached. Who doesn’t love a little more freedom. But what I was offered was complete freedom and who wouldn’t want complete freedom.

You ever played the Assassins Creed games? I like to consider myself a walking version of that except no magical abilities, no special creed, or even a long line of ancestors that are meant to look similar and only the first three or four games nailed the similarities. Not the point. For those of you who’ve never heard of those games, imagine someone who's able to scale an entire flat building, stand on top of a metal cross, and even have some really cool equipment to help get the job done. We’ll be getting to those a little later.

My name is eight. The Assassin.

What’s the difference between a Hitman and Assassin you ask? One gets paid to do any form of killing for money, the other one does it for either political or religious reasons in this world of ours. But you both kill people? True. Never declared myself a saint anyhow in this world so shush! Story time!

I pulled up to one of the abandoned planes to turn off my 4runner and climb out. Love the whole abandoned airfield look for the hideout. Really gives that fast and furious sort of vibe. How many movies are in the series anyhow?

A ram truck came pulling up next to my 4runner as I began grabbing all my junk to hopefully store somewhere that was a little more secure than my new apartment here in California. Keeping a bunch of ropes, weapons, and my vast amount of foreign fruit would get me busted and I certainly love my Nectarine!

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one brought into this little adventure.” He appeared in front of me as I swung my duffle bag right on my shoulder. I closed the door as I turned to see him all dressed in american/military gear. An American soldier? Real power move.

“Glad to see we got ourselves a soldier. Eight.” I held my hand out to him as he shook it.

“Seven. At Least according to that dude.” He pointed as one came out of a tiny airplane and smiled.

“Weird to see you not looking like a GAP model.” He showed up at my apartment in Israel looking like he walked out of Sunday church for some god knows reason. At first I thought he was apart of Jehovah's witness but as you can see we’re about to kill some mother fuckers.

“Ah really funny. Come meet the rest of us oh so lovely fellow campers.” We walked into the base as a women with blonde hair was reading a map while another woman was reading what looked like some sort of medical book.

“Ladies this is seven and eight our newest batch of newbies. The one reading the map is two and in the cap is five. Not sure where the other two are but I imagine they’ll be showing up sometime soon.” I gave them a small wave as I put my bag on the ground next to the large table.

“Look who finally showed up. Four this is seven and eight our eyes from the sky.” He tossed his hoodie down on the table as he gave us a small smile. The last member came into the room which is what I’m assuming was three.

“There’s this trick that we all do to get through our day. We take a box and into that box, we place all the horrors of the world, all the wrongs humans do to one another. And then we close the box and pretend it doesn’t exist. Only some of us spend too much time inside the box. We’ve lost our ability to pretend. We know there’s too much unfinished business in this messed up world. Our job as ghosts is to do the dirty work the living can’t or won’t. And we do it from here. This is our haunted house. It’s a lot like the Batcave, except it’s nothing like the Batcave. Seven, eight. You’re dead. You’re gonna be restricted to cities that you’ve never visited before. People that you’ve never met. All of course your fellow ghost, none of whom you’ll know by name, only number, for safety, and so no one gets too close.” I mean. All we need is a butler, some random child to say “geez guys” and I think we would be set.

“So basically what we’re doing is a sense of a justice league but with no moral codes?” Asking as One nodded.

“Yes. Except Wonder Women uses guns and Batman is okay with killing people.” I..okay that works.

“Each one of us has our own little gifts we bring to the table and now that we’ve required you two, we now officially have a set team.”

“We’re like the A-Team but on steroids except Mr. T is this guy.” The Spainard commented as everyone just stared him down.

“In your vast dreams.” One commented.

“Will we be required to wear matching rings?” Asking which made I believe his name is four chuckle a little.

“Funny. Alright c’mon I wanna show you two something.” We all followed him into another room where a wall covered with nine pieces of paper with a single roman numerals on each one.

“This is our target hitboard. These nine fuckers have been placing too much shit inside the box. So now they answer to us. Target number one: this prick. The Dictator of Turgistan Roach Alimov.” I walked over to his photo and began studying the guy. Radiates small dick energy already from all the work I’ve done over there, kind of like Kim Jong-Un except he doesn’t flaunt his money.

“God I’m really craving french fries. Can we finish this over at Luckies?” I believe he’s three asked the group as I began walking past the other eight pieces of paper as I lightly saw their faces. Efrain Gracian. He runs the largest drug cartel in Mexico and has been killing a shit ton of innocent people in their villages. Oh my god they put Kim Jon-Un on their target list hell yeah.

“So we plan on just killing all these pricks because they keep shitting on their countries and the rest of the world?” Leaning against the wall facing them as one nodded.

“I say we finish this thing at Luckies. I’m really feeling a shitty beer to set the mood of introductions.” One began walking out of the fort as everyone else followed except for me as I looked at the wall again. Figured there would be less on the board in all honesty.

~~~

I slipped into the booth with myself facing the middle of the window and the inside of the restaurant, seven sitting to my left while four was on my right. To think that I’m now officially dead and I cut all my ties off when I left home so no funeral. Bet they thought I was already dead anyhow so this works nicely.

“So what do you bring to the table?” I was asked as I tossed my car keys on the table.

“The soundless steps of a killer is what I bring to the table. You guys make a shit ton of noise if I think I know who you are. I’m assuming you guys we’re the one destroying Florence?” His eyes widened a little which makes my assumption correct cause these fuckers really had fun in Florence.

“Florence was an absolute disaster.” He stopped talking as the waiter came to the group.

“A round of Heineken for everyone. Then whatever else they want.” I ordered as everyone smiled a little as they began ordering their preferred drinks.

“Figured you’d be a good match since you graciously just bought us all drinks. So if you’re a soundless killer, who have you eliminated?” You can thank the new democracy in South Sudan, and ending an entire sex trafficking operation in Chad. Both we’re super difficult to achieve but damn I did an awesome job. Both were run by major cunts obviously and took months of planning to even get close to them.

“Who do you think got rid of the cunt from South Sudan?” Seven looked over at me then leaned across the table.

“You killed Zafir Bahri?” Seven asked as I nodded.

“Yup. Yet it was one of my most difficult assassinations since I had to make a break for it in the countryside. Kind of stuck out like a sore thumb till I made it to a reservation station.” The waitress came with the first round of beers. Four took a big gulp of his beer then sighed.

“Alright if we’re going to show off what our past selves have done. I got the chance to steal a 5.0 carat ruby necklace that had two smaller diamonds that were about 4.2 carats that was about 100,000 dollars worth.” Yet he’s sitting here in an American restaurant drinking some shitty beer and eating high heart attack food? Sounds about right.

“And here you are in America drinking Heineken and about to eat a very greasy double cheeseburger. Cheers” I grabbed my bottle as he did for us to clink our bottles together. Four seems super chill actually and now I’m kind of curious how he pulled off that heist.

“So. What’s the absolute best thing about being dead? I mean you don’t have to pay taxes anymore.” Seven asked the entire group as they all had an inner conversation with themselves about the best part of being deceased.

“No more dmv lines, no more shopping for Christmas.” Christmas has always been stressful for my old life and I didn’t even celebrate it!

“Or backstabbing girlfriends.” Raising my eyebrow at four. Damn someone broke his little heart. I’d play the worlds saddest song on the tiniest violin but not sure if he would get the reference.

“They should make an “Out of office” reply for dead people. Sorry I’m away from the planet right now. I’m fucking dead.” That’s a bit much but if it makes her feel better about being dead then let her do her own thing.

“No more tax, no more criminal records, no more getting arrested by the pigs just for being naked and or just the usual stuff. You know, being naked, getting drunk. Casual stuff.” How is being naked casual? Since when is being naked considered casual in any standard?

“Umm. How is being naked any form of being casual?” He took a drink of his beer as he licked his lips.

“Ya know. Just walking around naked on your balcony or even on your front porch. It’s a casual thing.” I..I still don’t see that as a casual thing. Around the house yes because oversized t-shirt and underwear is always a comfy.

“Is that like when Jersey people say it’s a jersey thing?” Before he could answer One chuckled a little.

“Guys. You’re all wrong. The best thing about being dead is the freedom. I mean, we’re all gonna die. May as well do it while we’re alive, right? When you’re young, you lock yourself into all of these bad decisions. Marriages, mortgages, and all that kind of stuff. But you die. It’s all escaped. Poof! Gone! From that point forward, all that matters is what you choose. The point is that we should bring seven and eight behind the curtain. You wanna hand me those over there?” Three handed him a bunch of plastic cups as leaned a little more forward on the table. I looked out of the corner of my eye to see him quickly glancing away back at the demonstration. Guess he’s kind of cute, not exactly sure how getting involved with people on the team is viewed. Rather avoid the whole situation.

“Alright here. A little deminsation, no technology. So this is how to stage a coup in three not so easy steps. Alright you got a country, Turgistan right? These are the people, nice people, going about, doing their thing. Then you got the four generals, cuatro cunts, very bad guys. But there’s one worse guy. That’s the piece of shit dictator, right there at the top.” Sounds about right. That was basically the entire set up in South Sudan.

“Don’t forget his brother.” Brother? Oh yeah, the guy has a brother that basically has been isolated or off the face of the earth at this point. Gotta love it when Governments hide those wanting a better world, or hiding sick pedophiles when they fake suicides so they don’t go to prison or end up being executed.

“Democracy loving brother.” So we’ve got a shitty dictator and a loving democratic. Of freakin’ course!

“He’s the key. So we’re gonna hit the four generals. They’re gonna lead us to the brother.”

“You kill top Generals, you fuck the dictators day.” Three shoved a few French fries in his mouth.

“Can confirm.” I took a big gulp of my beer as I leaned back against the booth.

“Second thing we're gonna do is free the brother. And the last thing we’re gonna do is we’re gonna say goodbye to piece of shit dictator and hello to democracy loving brother.”

“It all goes down in four months, El Dia de los Muertos, The Day of the Dead.” Kinky.

“Oh that’s it?” Seven and I looked at each other for the both of us to nod in approval of the plan.

“Um well that’s pretty simple ya know. The cups.” I took a drink of my beer as I began mentally seeing the whole plan in my head.

“Wonderful presentation.” We’re gonna die aren’t we?

“So we’re all gonna die?” At this point I say that’s a hard yes.

“Not me.” What confidence she has because there’s something about her that just kind of scares the shit out of me. Must be something federal in her former life.

“She’s not, we all are. Painfully.” Peachy. Real fucking peachy. But hey I’m already technically dead so this works out perfectly in the end. Just when my body shows up at someones house or is found floating on the coast, going to be quite a headache trying to figure out since I’m already dead.

Maybe I should be more optimistic with this new life. Could be worse. I could be stuck in a work camp in Siberia. Maybe we just see where this goes and if it doesn’t end well I just disappear into the unknown. Sounds like an absolute plan!

Taglist:

@bonafiderocketqueen @filmslutt @imjustboredso @intoanothermind @4lendow-norris @wickedholland

@takemetoneverland420 @art-flirt @intoanothermind @raylan-c

#6 Underground #6 Underground Four #6 Underground Billy #Ben Hardy 6 Underground #6 Underground Fic #6 Underground fan fic #Four x Reader #Four/Billy x reader #Four/Billy #Ben Hardy #Ben Hardy x reader #Billy x reader

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engineeredfiction · 4 years

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Solace Among the Stars Ch.1 “The Stranger”

Finally here.

Rating: PG-13

What: Crossover fanfiction comprising of themes and elements from: The Expanse, Blade Runner, Prospect(2018)

Characters: All original characters except for Ezra and Murtry. OC are based on actors I like such as Tobias Menzies (Greer) and Adele Haenel (Allard).

Plot: A group of banned Earthers attempt to improve their life beyond their home system, but come up against a powerful enemy.

Mood board is here. You can also check out the ‘sol mood’ tag

Aaaaaand if you would like to listen to music to put you in the mood then check out the playlist. I’ll be adding to it as time goes on.

Special thanks: @tom-riddleston-me and @yourpalmoony for being beta readers! I appreciate the time and effort!

Keane was conscious long enough to feel her saliva boil off her tongue and the formerly inert nitrogen gas bubbled in her blood caused intense pain. Her instinctive nature forced her body to scramble back to the lander a few meters away. Yet, everything went black after seconds of the forlorn effort.

The stench of stale metallic air woke Keane up from what felt like a deep slumber. This was not a sickbay or her ship. A dark and empty bar surrounded her; the only source of light was coming from the two windows on either side of the door. The deteriorated wooden floor creaked under her stillness. Behind there was a pack, it must be hers. A tumbler of substance was in front of her; she cautiously brought it to her nose. Whiskey. She threw it back, picked up the pack, and pulled open the door. Tall grey mountains surrounded the desolate building , so tall in fact they nearly blocked out the light. Not far in front a path was laid out that led to a thick pine forest. She felt an internal pull towards the path.

The forest was silent except for the sound of her feet hitting the ground. Her passing seemed to echo between the trees. There was no fear in her which she thought was strange. Ahead the scenery changed, there was a small warm glow at the end of the path and it grew in size with every step. Just before she reached the natural exit she was perplexed by the sight of tall sand dunes in front of her.

She walked into a clearing where the grass gradually turned into sand. To her left and right stood a clear line of trees that went on forever in both directions. The mountains loomed behind them. Keane continued to follow the internal pull in her gut and walked up a dune. Once she reached the summit she paused to look around her. The desert only extended ten kilometers in front of her. Snow peaked mountains surrounded it and the smell of pine was strong. The wind was soft and the small grains of sand drifted over each other. For the first time she heard a sound that she didn’t make. She stood still and felt the wind blow through her long loose strands of hair.

Her breath quickened when she realised she had no idea where she was or why she was there. Her wonder was interrupted by movement a few dunes over. A figure was making its way over to her.. The figure was getting closer, but she couldn’t make out who it was.

A man?

New smells reached her nose, a scent of alcohol and blood. Immediately, her joints started to ache and her left hand felt like it was fire. She looked down to the terrifying sight of her hand profusely bleeding, torn to shreds, and with bones sticking out.

Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The figure was approaching, but took no notice to the gory injury. Her head lolled back as nausea and vertigo became overwhelming. The fall into the warm darkness was slow.

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

Keane’s eyes fluttered open. Seated in a hyperbaric chamber with a window on the door she slowly bent over in the reclined chair to see medical staff tending to patients. Her head throbbed and she squeezed her eyes shut. Pain radiated through every limb and settled in the joints. Her hand. She looked down and saw her left hand in a clear rectangle contraption. Below the wrist was a clean sawed line and a new skeletal hand was attached. Lasers travelled back and forth scanning and dispensing bio fluids to start the construction of the nerves. She swallowed and closed her eyes again. Her mouth was dry and her body relaxed.

Morphine, she guessed to herself, that’s good.

She tried to remember what happened. Someone was attacking the lander. Greer was ahead of her and he was aiming at someone in the rocky mountains. Or was it the field? The field beside the mountains? It was nighttime. Keane didn’t see who shot her. She clenched her teeth to swallow the nausea. Whoever the perpetrator was, nearly killed her by decompressing her suit to the vacuum of space.

She leaned forward again and peered out the window. The medical staff were no longer tending to the patient closest to her and she got a wide view of the sickbay. None of her crew were in the other chairs. This could be good or very bad. The patient in the chair closest to her chamber was getting a limb regrowth procedure for his right arm. The skeleton and nerves of his arm were complete and the lasers started to build up the muscle system. He was reclined back and sleeping. His hair was wet with grime and sweat. The tuffs of brown hair matted to his face. He had a blond patch above his brow. Her study of the man was interrupted by the appearance of Greer.

He strode in with confidence and charm that Keane was well acquainted with over the past two years. Greer spotted her face in the window after a quick glance of the hyperbaric pods. He smiled with relief and gave her an okay hand symbol with a questioning look.

Behind Keane’s returned smile was pain and weakness, but she gave a thumbs up. Greer peered in with curiosity and saw her soon to be new hand.

“Cool,” he remarked. His baritone British voice sounded muffled and faint through the door. “Another two days and you’re out. Allard and Murtry are fine, they’re worried about you,” he added.

Keane nodded and gave another thumbs up. His smile reassured her about the rest of the crew and he left the sick bay for her to heal in peace.

Two days came and went. The doctor finished Keane’s final health evaluation. Her health had returned and her limb regrowth had been completed. She admired her new hand, which now had a new set of fingerprints. She thought it funny, if she had ever been booked for a crime it would set off confusion if anyone tried to accuse her based on her former fingerprints.

“Surprisingly the CT scan found no brain damage,” the doctor stated without looking up from her tablet, “your heart stopped for a little over seven minutes. Your crewmate….Greer did CPR for five minutes and you spontaneously resuscitated about two minutes after.” She didn’t hear a reaction from Keane and so peered over her the device, “with no brain damage that is impressive.”

Keane felt the lump wedged in her throat. She fixated on a stain on the floor ahead of her.

“You’ll have a weird tingling sensation for the next week or two,” the doctor calmly stated. “If you follow the rehabilitation guidelines I sent to your PCA that new hand will feel like your original. Or better.”

“Thank you,” Keane acknowledged and promptly gathered her personal belongings into her weekend bag that Greer brought to her. She opened it and the odor of stale sweat and blood wafted up. Her nose scrunched up and she knew her next destination.

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

Arcadia Station-Alpha is the last bastion of civilization this far out from the Primus System. The Primus System is home to Earth. When humans advanced enough to travel the further reaches of space through The Ring, what was then known as The Solar System needed a new name. Arcadia bore the title Alpha due to its size and grandeur. One of the many luxuries it housed was a public bath. For a few credits a traveller could get cleaned and soak in a pool of heated grey water. The aesthetic of the public bath recalls the glory of Roman architecture. In the midst of modern appearances and technology a revival of ancient art and decor made its way throughout the human inhabited Universe.

Keane departed Arcadia’s sickbay and strolled to the bathhouse; where the gentle floral aromas drifted throughout its dimly lit rooms. In the locker room, she fully undressed, saved for sandals and a towel that were given at reception. She stepped into the busy shower room and turned an unoccupied faucet to hot. The steam rose up as she vigorously scrubbed off the scent of sweat and iodoform. She stood still under the showerhead letting the hot water roll over her body.

A desert in the middle of the mountains. A cool sandy desert. Earth? Somewhere else? Made up, most likely.

Keane exited the bathhouse and the clean clothes felt refreshing against her skin. She smiled in comfort at the immediate sight of her crew. They waited at the foot of the stairs to the bathhouse. Greer, Allard, the pilot, and Murtry, who assigned himself the role of security area manager, chatted amongst themselves. Murtry was the first one to see Keane exiting the bathhouse.

“Good to see you’re alive and well!” Murtry exclaimed. He gave her a casual hug, “How’s the hand?”

Keane offered her hand lady-like, “As good as new. Feels a bit funny at the moment, but it should go away in a week or two and back to full strength in a month,” she changed topics, “fuck those guys. What the hell were they doing?”

“Apparently it was an accident.” Greer added.

“How?”

“He…simply said…he thought we were raiders.”

“We were picking up civilians.”

Greer shrugged, “That’s what he said. His name is Axtin and he’s part of Terra Corp. They’re going to get slapped with another violation for this. Probably put them out for awhile.”

“Good riddance!” Murtry hummed.

“Someone has to topple the giant, it might as well be you,” Allard jested in her thick French accent.

“With my life,” Keane sighed, “I’m starving.”

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

Another part of Arcadia’s grandeur was the fifth level dining halls. They boasted meals for those on the go to the multiple course sit down affair. The level bustled with a variety of travellers and station workers. Some were well-dressed and others covered in grime. The rough ones were usually floaters who worked independently and performed random odd jobs. The money to be made was in harvesting resources from the assorted planets and moons within the half parsex area.

The sushi restaurant bustled with customers, some crammed up to the bar and the rest squeezed into tables in the cramped space. The crew sat shoulder to shoulder at the bar with little words exchanged as they quickly ate their food. Keane waved her hand quickly any time the prickly sensation became too much and somehow the movement calmed the new nerves.

Between mouthfuls of ramen Allard asked, “You know what they call that feeling? Of a new limb.”

“Oh ‘the stranger’.” interjected Greer.

“Yeah because when you masturbate it feels like someone else.” Keane quipped.

“Really?” asked Murtry.

“I don’t know…yet.”

Keane and Murtry chuckled. She was the only crew member Murtry felt, if only a tad bit, close to on a personal level. He admired her dry sense of humour.

A shadowy figure appeared behind them revealed himself under the neon glow of the bar’s sign. The four paused their eating to look up at this newcomer. His face was heavy with scars, but his clothing was finely made. After a few beats the man cleared his throat.

“Which one of you is Captain Greer?” his voice was low and rough.

Greer stood up from his seat to get on the same eye level, “I am.”

“Mr. Wallis of Terra Corp would like you to join him for a drink in his office.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Greer looked back at his crew and was met with silence. Keane gave him a nod.

“Can’t hurt can it?” she whispered.

Greer hesitated, “Sure.”

Chapter 2

Taglist (for those that asked and who I think might be interested, if you want to be removed send me a message):

@pascalisthepunkest @dindjarindiaries @pedropascalisadilf @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @a-carnie-and-a-cop @rzrcrst

#solace among the stars #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #science fiction #sci fi #scifi #the expanse #blade runner #prospect (2018)#burn gorman #tobias menzies #adele haenel #pedro pascal #murtry #ezra #ezra prospect #writing #space travel

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kaitycole · 5 years

Text

I just want you to know who I am

Summary: Riley learns more about the past between Jackson and Bianca and how they ended up in Cordonia.

Word Count: 1781

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Jackson x Bianca, Constantine x Eleanor

Rating: Unplanned pregnancy, mention of abortion, like one sentence of smut, mention of alcohol, mention of miscarriage

A/N: I changed the mood board thingie along with the face claim to Luke Walker, that is all.

Part 6 of WP. To catch up read here.

Title was inspired by Iris by Goo Goo Dolls. Thanks @bobasheebaby & @kingliam2019 for helping me with titling issues!

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bobasheebaby @bascmve01 @burnsoslow @the-everlasting-dream @ao719 @sirbeepsalot @janezillow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @lodberg @edgiestwinter @marshmallowsandfire

“Where was I? Oh yes, so some weeks later, Bianca comes to the bar telling me that she needs to talk.”

Weeks have passed since Jackson had met Bianca. She had showed up at the bar a few times after their encounter, but she mostly just came since Maribelle and Beau had hit it off and Tanya and Cash had become a thing. Bianca and Jackson really didn’t talk when they all hung out, she spent her time flirting with whoever was close to her at the bar whereas Jackson was spending time with the others.

It is the last Friday night before Jackson is getting ready to head to LA and then back to Cordonia. Bianca hasn’t been to the bar in the last couple of weeks, but Jackson brushes it off, however when he sees her walk in that night, he knows something is off.

Usually she is all dolled up like she’s going somewhere other than a little southern hole in the wall. This time she’s in leggings and a baggy Texas sweatshirt, her hair up in a bun that has strands of hair falling out everywhere.

“Ja--. Jackson?” She barely whispers, “Can we talk?”

Beau and Cash just shrug as Jackson looks to them for help and he pulls her over to an empty booth in a quiet corner.

“Did something happen? Someone hurt you?” He starts asking, for the life of him, he wasn’t sure why he cared so much. She made it obvious to him since the beginning that he was just a hookup, but he still hated seeing any woman upset.

She looks up at him, not sure how this was going to go. She knows she’s been a bitch towards him since they met, but this was about more than just them.

“Hey, all the drama aside, I’m here for you,” he says, resting his hand on hers.

“I’m pregnant, Jackson.”

He can feel the color leave his face, “Oh.”

“It’s yours,” she says.

His mind starts racing, “Excuse me if I find that hard to believe.”

Her face drops, “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, “We slept together the first night we met. You said it was just a rebound, I don’t how many more you’ve had.”

She stands up, her voice raises, “Are you serious?”

“I want to be there for you, for this baby, but I need to know for sure. I’m not being that unreasonable here.”

Slowly she sits down, realizing that what he’s said is true. If roles were reversed, she’d be asking the same thing. Was she really that big of a bitch when they first met? Did she really come off to be that type of girl? He wasn’t wrong, he had been just a rebound and there had been others, but the others were protected. This wasn’t a situation she had planned to be in either.

“I’m not asking for a relationship.” She states flatly.

“If this baby is mine, I’m not just going to support it or you from a distance. I want to do this the right way. The proper way.”

“We don’t even know each other.” She honestly thought that he would just offer to pay for the situation to be taken care of.

“Guess we should start over.”

“Or we can just take care of it now.”

His eyes widen and she isn’t sure what he’s going to say or do, “That is not an option that I’d consider. If anything, I’d ask for you just to allow me to take the baby. No strings attached, but I know that ultimately it’s your decision.”

She cocks her head to the side, “You’d really just take the baby and not ask me for anything?”

“If that’s how you want to do this. I just ask that you give me a chance to show you that I’m serious about taking care of this child.”

“Guess that means we should start over, huh?”

“I mean we can only start over so much,” he chuckles.

* *

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re telling me that my husband was a rebound hookup in a bar bathroom?”

Jackson laughs, realizing how unromantic it sounded, “Yeah, he was.”

“How did your story go from that to love at first sight?”

Once again, he starts laughing, “Over the next few months, we spend a lot of time together. I went to all her appointments, took her to dinner, I even skipped out on my trip to LA and extended my stay in Texas.”

“So, you eventually won her over?”

“Not exactly.” He shrugs, “It wasn’t until Drake was maybe three that she softened up.”

“THREE!?” Riley practically shouts before composing herself.

“Sadly. The wedding was beautiful, I gave her everything that she wanted. Yet issues started again when I decided to move back to Cordonia. I got a call from the king to be in his guard, I couldn’t pass it up. Being in the King’s Guard was something all men in my family had done for as far back as we can trace it.

“Eventually she adjusted to our new life, her new life and she always said that one night she looked over at me and Drake and realized she loved me as much as I loved her.”

“My mind is blown right now.”

“But you can understand why that’s not the story Drake and Savannah were told growing up.”

“Yes, I can. So now back to the forbidden love part,” Riley leans forwards, completely intrigued by Jackson’s story.

Jackson is walking around the palace hallways. He’s off the clock, but he does one final sweep before leaving the castle grounds. He’s getting ready to head back to the cabin when he hears a faint crying noise coming from the study down the hall. He quickly dashes towards the study, walking into the room.

“Your majesty, is everything okay?”

She snaps her head up, quickly wiping her face, “Oh yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Jackson walks towards her, kneeling beside her, “If I may speak freely, you don’t seem okay, Queen Eleanor.”

She smiles slightly, “Even so, I shouldn’t keep you from your duties.”

He smiles, “Technically, I’m off the clock so no worries.”

“Shouldn’t you get back to your family?”

He looks at his watch, “Everyone’s already asleep. I usually just sit by the lake at this time and breathe.”

The two exchange pleasantries, small talk, both really dancing around anything heavy, not sure if they are willing to overstep their places.

“I miscarried today. Constantine shrugged it off, saying he already had an heir and spare. Then he left to go to Fydelia.” Eleanor’s voice cracks, looking up at Jackson with tear filled eyes.

“I am so sorry, Queen Eleanor.” He racks his brain for what to say.

“Once I found out, I was so excited. Liam is the light of my life, however I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for a little princess this time around.” A fresh tear falls down her cheek, Jackson hands her his handkerchief, “Thank you.”

“I just wish I knew something better to say.”

“Just listening is the best thing, honestly. No one else has listened when I tried to talk about it.”

“It is my duty to serve the Crown and that includes listening to the Queen discuss whatever she pleases.”

Eleanor smiles, she knew who Jackson was due to his closeness with her husband, being a leading officer, Jackson was always attending private meetings, arranging travel and simply being the third person in the King and Queen’s marriage.

Weeks have passed and every Friday night, the pair have made it a point to sneak away and talk freely to one another. They get to talk about the things that their loved ones wouldn’t understand, some of those things being inside jokes about other members of the court. They have stricken up an unlikely friendship.

One Friday night, Jackson is getting ready to head to study on the other end of the palace. The one that no one uses. That’s on the other end from the palace’s Royal Wing. The study where Jackson and Eleanor meet up.

A few of the younger guards are walking towards Jackson, heading the opposite direction of where they should be doing their evening rounds.

“Sir,” one nods towards Jackson before being stopped.

“I do believe you three are on Royal Wing rounds tonight.”

“The King sent us home early.”

“Is that so?” Jackson’s brows knit together.

“Yes sir.”

Turning on his heel, Jackson walks back towards the Royal Wing, determined to get to the bottom of this. While it wasn’t uncommon for Constantine to dismiss guard members early, he usually discussed it with Jackson.

He didn’t have to get too close to the Royal Wing to figure out why the guards were dismissed. The royal suite’s door was open, causing the sounds from the King and Queen’s intimate encounter to fill the hallway.

“Oh. God. Fuck Ellie.” Constantine’s groans echo through the hall, lacing together with Eleanor’s, “Ah! Ah! Ooooh! Oh! G…g...gaaa…god! Yes!”

Jackson begins walking back towards the main area of the palace when the night head guard, Timothy, who relieves him, stops him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. Why?” His tone is heated, causing Timothy to grow concerned.

“You look extremely pissed off and your fists are clenched.”

He quickly unclenches his fists and shake his head, “Just the younger guards, always slacking off is all.”

“I heard about the King and Queen’s big night,” Timothy chuckles, “You know, she’s always been pretty quiet, makes you wonder what she sounds like in bed, eh?”

The anger grows in Jackson again, this time he doesn’t try to hide it, “Watch how you speak about Queen Eleanor or you will be charged with treason.”

The next day, Timothy and Jackson are in the king’s office for a monthly guard meeting. He comes in smiling; the two guards immediately stand up and bow slightly.

“You seem to be in high spirits, your majesty.” Timothy says.

“Good news on trade deals, I hope.” Jackson tries to change the direction of the conversation.

“Trade deals, you’re funny Jackson. A smile like that comes from a lady companion,” Timothy jokes.

“This smile comes from watching the queen come undone as I plow into her. It’s always the quiet ones who scream the loudest,” the king winks, causing Jackson to storm out in disgust, hating the way the king speaks of the queen.

* *

“You developed feelings for Queen Eleanor!?! I wasn’t expecting that either!” Riley exclaims.

He chuckles, “Not just feelings, I fell in love with her.”

Riley’s jaw drops as Jackson continues the story.

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