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#IM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE YET BUT MAN BOY DO I MISS THEM
inkedberries · 2 years
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i finally found a full gameplay walkthrough of zesty AND BROS I AM FEELING IT TONIGHT
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teklarn · 3 years
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𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)
 character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader 
a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))
summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 
genre: a lil bit angsty 
warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood 
word count: 2112
pt 1 , pt 3
- - - 
kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought. 
y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back. 
jealousy panged in his chest. 
bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to. 
he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there. 
whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter? 
what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help. 
it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first. 
jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it. 
whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something? 
the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time. 
you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one. 
honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet. 
his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp. 
sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child. 
you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it. 
perhaps you were being cocky. 
this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him. 
it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted. 
it was interesting for another reason. 
it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest. 
he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown. 
“don’t get distracted.” 
your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down. 
before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight. 
he panted atop you, hands tightening. 
tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima. 
the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.
bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in. 
his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets. 
your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed. 
“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck. 
his cheeks burned red. “w-what?” 
“you heard me.” 
he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more. 
“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood. 
“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.” 
“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?” 
“you’re strong, damn idiot.” 
you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.” 
“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight. 
y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway. 
they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered. 
he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him. 
kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?” 
“you’re creepy as shit.” 
“i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-” 
“while you peeped in on y/n?” 
“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.” 
it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man. 
when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.” 
bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.” 
kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.” 
“fine?” 
“they’re amazing.”
“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?” 
“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped. 
“you train with me.” 
“it’s an hour before curfew.” 
bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked. 
“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle. 
the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass. 
the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays. 
it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend. 
this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.
it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff. 
with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one. 
his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly. 
swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched. 
bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission. 
kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack. 
bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side. 
it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars. 
it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright. 
“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?” 
“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to. 
bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.” 
“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue. 
“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help. 
“we should head back before this gets any worse.” 
bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.  
although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out. 
you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself. 
the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt. 
bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat. 
“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?” 
“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.” 
“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you. 
you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?” 
“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed. 
“dude, i’m really sorry—” 
“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”
you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.” 
“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.” 
“your nose is broken,” you said gently. 
“so? can’t you fix it?” 
you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?” 
“can you or can you not?” 
“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―” 
“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.” 
you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm. 
kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though. 
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t-lostinworlds · 3 years
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Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)
a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!
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pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:
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first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 
masterlist on bio & pinned post
-:-:-:-:-
It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.
Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.
It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.
Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.
It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.
You two get it done right away in the right way.
You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.
But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.
"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.
On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.
"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—
"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."
Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.
And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.
With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.
"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.
"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.
Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.
He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.
"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.
"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.
With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.
Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.
"Come here and give me one last kiss."
"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"
You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.
"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.
"Places you two!" Jessica called out.
Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.
You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.
You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.
The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.
"Ready and action!"
You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.
"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.
"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.
"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.
Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.
Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.
"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.
Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.
"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.
Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.
"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.
The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.
Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.
"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.
You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.
"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."
Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.
"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.
Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.
"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."
"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.
"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.
Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.
"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.
"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.
"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.
But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.
"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.
"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.
It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.
But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.
At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.
"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."
All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.
Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.
You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.
You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."
Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.
You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.
Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.
"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.
He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.
Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.
You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.
Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.
"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."
"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.
You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.
"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."
"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.
"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"
Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.
"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"
"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.
"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.
"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."
"Aw, thanks bro—"
"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."
"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.
"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."
You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.
"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"
With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.
"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."
You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.
"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."
***
It was finally time to get back to the hotel.
You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.
The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.
"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.
A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.
Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.
"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.
"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him
"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.
"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.
Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:
"Just let me take care of you."
A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.
Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.
In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.
He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.
The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.
Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.
"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.
"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.
Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.
"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.
"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.
With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.
The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,
"Tom, what if—"
"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.
"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.
With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."
Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.
"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.
Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."
You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.
With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—
"Not going anywhere."
-:-:-:-:-
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mintmatcha · 3 years
Text
9 months, 28 days
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Chapter 3 of 10 Months
CW: discussions of death
A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo
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The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.
Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.
“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.
“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”
“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”
That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.
Or never.
Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”
The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”
The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.
Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.
“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”
“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,
“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.
“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”
Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”
Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.
Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.
but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.
“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.
This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.
“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"
"That's not what-"
"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"
The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.
"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she
drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."
“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.
This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.
And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.
"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."
“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."
Makki just raises a brow.
Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.
"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."
"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.
"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’
They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,
Why does he even care?
Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.
He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.
The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."
"Location?"
Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."
"You mean rot."
Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.
"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.
"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."
"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”
"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."
"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."
"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”
"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.
It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.
If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.
Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.
“Next step would be flowers.”
It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.
“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”
“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell
"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."
"I won't."
"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."
Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.
"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."
Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"
"Kind of."
"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."
And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.
It's so easy not to care.
“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.
“That fucker didn’t pay.”
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lunar-lair · 3 years
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ok say hello to my insanely new oc who ive made entirely to be a villain who is still an excellent adult and a decent parent, probably. cares too much abt kids. think reigen mob psycho with a drop or two of milla. worked under Nick From The Mailroom and was actually in on his scheme.
has always been rather cold and brash towards adults, but is more caring towards kids. in my brain he has a brooklyn type accent? rough and tumble, walks around without a tie, yknow? they keep him cause he sorts mail real good, though.
(added a read more because this got INSANELY LONG AKSKSK i spent like an hr on this h)
he was a delugeionist, but only because he kinda just wanted to rip the world apart a little; lysandre vibes, thinks a lot of it is scum and needs to go. thinks the *psychonauts* are scum and need to go. hes psychic but suppressed it, think aquato parents but extra toxic about it, and straight up just saying being psychic is unnatural. wouldnt go to loboto parent lengths tho. so he adopted that thought of 'being psychic is unnatural and wrong', which contributed to a lot of self hate that was never learned out. likely, he realizes hes a shitty person and thinks he needs to go too. so like...yknow hank, dbh? kinda the vibe im gettin right now. way more formal, of course, and while usually gruff, is more polite when its needed; can and *will* beat the shit out of you verbally in a factual way, though, and can talk more street-lingo if hes talkin to real thugs. (probably winged it on his own after failing college or smth, hes got the vibes.)
anyways, its this plot where he slinks off and starts planting mistrust in the psychonauts or something. and inevitably he just...shows up and starts kidnapping people. dismantling things from the inside and all that. he left and formed a group who also hated psychics at some point, likely friends of his parents and friends of friends, all from his hometown. all of them fight *insanely* dirty, and a lot of them are insanely vulgar. the kids are supposed to be kept away.
but theres a line to follow here.
this man is a fold to raz. hates the psychonauts, hates being psychic, adopted his parent's hate of psychics, hates the *world.* raz is young and unburdened and unjaded...mostly. hes not the shock of water some young characters can be when it comes to being the foils of other characters; think steven with a villain or something, right? but raz is sassy and a little jaded, and not total sunshine positivity.
hes a child this man could look down on and not be immediately annoyed by, who is worried by yet respects raz's realization of the world as it is, however little that is.
and yet raz is still his foil. he still mostly loves the psychonauts, despite it all, he loves being psychic, for the most part, he dodged adopting his parents previous values, he still seems to have an even view of the world as a whole.
raz is jaded, if only a little, but he moved past it and accepted that things could still be bright. this man is jaded, but he stayed in his stormclouds, never looked for the sun.
ok where. was i. RIGHT ok so. at the beginning of this...story? the man finds raz being talked down to by one of the office workers; someone with weak psychic powers whos insanely jealous of his prowess. an adult who envies the young prodigy. and theyre giving him some insane task to do, like cleaning all of the closets within the hour, but hes saved the world twice, so he smiles and nods along, because he said he would help around the motherlobe, and this adult is asking him to do something that seems simple enough.
and this guy, internally, goes 'bitch.' for a good long second bc 1. dude even if you envy a kid, kinda fucked to show that?? not their fault 2. WHY are you asking a 10 year old to do that. why is there a 10 year old here. holy shit thats a 10 year old oh my god hes so tiny (no one told him there was a 10 year old because they knew hed stomp right up to management but. regardless. he is going to stomp up to management after this and no one can really stop him. except maybe raz well see)
so yknow. dude fixes his slight slouch and walks forward and politely tells this woman that 1. hes 10 why are you jealous of him and 2. hes 10????????? and shes like shit hes 10. and apologizes. and walks away
and raz is VERY ?? bc she was doing what? why is him being 10 important? and its that young part of you that gets pissed when people try to keep you from doing things because youre young and hes DEFINITELY yet to learn that piling responsibilites that should be handled by adults onto a child is fucked up in its own special way (looking at you ford, *nick*)
and the dude calmly explains because yea. he gets that. and he still sounds gruff and a little peeved but he squats down to razs height and he talks simply and factually, telling him straight on why it isnt right.
and. huh. people dont really do that for raz. except for sasha, sometimes, everyone likes to dodge the truth a lot with him, because hes 10, and sometimes, hes too nice to tug it out of them.
and this guy, this man that raz is already polishing a trophy for 'good adulting' in the back of his brain with his striking statements about how adults should handle things and kids should-kids should...get to have fun. not be traumatized.
for the shock on his face when raz said hed already saved the world a couple times, whats some closets. he reigned it in, said that its weird he saved the world, because thats usually their jobs.
and this guy offers his hand on instict before he stands up, even though he doesnt seem very sweet and kind like the adults that usually offer raz a hand. and he takes it, i think. he takes it.
warm. warm, a little nice.
reminds raz of his dad, maybe. he wonders if this man has any kids himself, but keeps his mouth shut, because he thinks he already has the answer, and its yes.
(he doesnt have any. he would wish he did, but he knows hed fail to raise them right.)
and when he stands, he asks raz what he was asking that woman for, and he says hes doing tasks around the motherlobe because his papers are still coming in. the man doesnt ask. (he knows what 'papers' means, realizes this is the tiny junior psychonaut every room in the damn place has been buzzing about, and he has fucking words for forsythe.) he just offers for the kid to sort mail under his supervision.
and that sounds boring. at least, it usually would.
this man is interesting, and a good...person? a good adult? hes...hes new. hes new, and calm, and a little like sasha but a lot not, and he thinks he trusts him.
so raz grins and says yea, mail sorting sounds nice.
(debatably, raz does not take his hand. hes too jaded when it comes to adults. debatably, he does not feel any warmth from this man who has taught him every adult has been telling him wrong. debatably, im projecting. but thats the whole point of ocs, hm?)
and then holes crop up in motherlobe systems. people are kidnapped.
raz keeps seeing the strange man, keeps telling him things, keeps hearing back, gruff and factual and a little annoyed, but raz can almost-just-barely tell its not at him, with the way he talks.
he can tell. he can tell.
he can never tell. this man is making sure he can tell.
raz trusts the man, is still polishing that trophy for 'best adulting' he has settling in the back of his mind.
and then the man comes with a militia.
he did not seem jaded. he did not seem hateful. he never showed any anger or hate towards raz.
but thats because he knows kids dont deserve it.
an excellent moral or two. a rotten, broken heart.
and at first, they keep the kids away, because these people fight dirty, because this isnt their battle, because the man has been sending emails about why 15 year olds are in a secret psychic agency.
(he does not mention raz. by razs second visit, he had just marked the boy down as another reason to hate the psychonauts as a whole, and especially its higher ups.
hes also regretting his alliance to nick by about the third. if he had known the man would puppet a child as if they were a toy, he would have organized his own rebellion ages ago.)
but eventually, the psychonauts need all hands on deck.
they send the children to find the missing agents.
the interns are fought on the way. some of them avoid the child, know the boss would pummel them.
they get to the base, and the strange man, the one with the broken trophy for 'best adult' (still barely-polished, because hes still so sure) still nestled in the back of razs brain, is still there.
the junior psychonauts are spotted. one of the guards throws a few rocks aimlessly.
they surprise them. one almost hits raz.
its intercepted instead.
and the other junior psychonauts watch as this man, their enemy, a villain, in their eyes, reprimands the other man for even accidentally daring, for even trying. for doing something they might have done just a month or so ago, if they had decided he was too much weirder than they already had.
and he yells something like, "Why the hell is he even here?! This is an enemy base, of whats a rebellion! This is a *10 year old*! What kind of adult sends a child *near* something like that?!" and he truly sounds angry this time, raz finds. hes too angry to keep it in. he still sounds gruff and oddly proper. raz is standing there, arms hanging. hes baffled in a specific way, the way he was every time the man's brow furrowed when he mentioned a harrowing story, the way he was the first day they met.
and he asks, a little quiet, a little small, a reminder of how young he really is, "Why are you still trying to keep me safe? We're supposed to be enemies now."
And his brow furrows further before flattening out, and he tilts onto one leg, and he swears he almost kneels to a knee.
He cant believe it. He really cant.
"You're 10." he says simply, softly, that factual way. "You shouldn't even be here."
and raz pauses. the interns freeze.
"...well, here I am."
and i think...it would be so intriguing if this was done halfway out of the mind, because this man is so against anything psychic. it would be so *compelling.*
so raz steps forward and asks again, asks why hes doing this.
and the mans eyes harden, he tries to turn off that soft heart, trying to remind himself of all that he hates. because he hates the psychonauts, because he sort of hates the world.
and raz asks why he could ever hate the psychonauts, head tilted, before listing off the few he knows to be true. but other than that, how? and ok, the world sucks a little, yea, hes seen that, gets that.
and he appreciates that this kid isnt totally gung ho about existence.
but he hates that he isnt, too.
and its this back and forth. everything the man hates, why he hates it. raz saying why its good but admitting why its bad.
and hes swayed, just a little.
but the man stands up from the kneel hed inevitably instinctively put himself into, and walks forward, hand held out yet again.
"You shouldn't be in the Psychonauts," he tells him, soft, factual, brow furrowed. "Come with me. I'll bring you back to your parents, or wherever it is you want to go."
raz contemplates. thinks, for a long moment.
he grabs the mans hand, warm and firm, yet again, for a terrifying moment.
before he reaches up to slap a mental door on his forehead, and astral projects into it.
he thinks this man is good. thinks hes just jaded.
thinks hes the best adult hes ever met, one who just happens to hate a lot of things.
hes only 10.
hes not letting someone who can tell him so clearly whats wrong and right for adults to tell him go that easily.
aaaand yknow. raz does his razzy thing. learns about why the guy hates the world and the psychonauts and himself. helps him learn that its not all bad, that he was excellent to raz, and still is, that things can be bad and good all at once.
the man concedes that raz is very capable, very smart, and can do a lot. but that doesnt mean he should have to.
raz tells him, though, that he likes working for the psychonauts. its his dream. and he realizes some things he was told to do were kinda screwed up, now. that maybe, in honesty, he was dealt a bad hand.
but hes done what he can with that hand, and he ended up with a royal flush.
and uh! yknow!! then raz leaves his mind and he calls off the rebellion! its like a rhombus of ruin type adventure, except without the villain being present beforehand. its just not clustered in insanely close with a ton of other wild shit.
anyways this got really long? sorry?? its an oc i just saw good adult and slight father vibe potential in the vibe i instantly got on him and then i went feral???? rip maybe someone will read this and if you did. congrats i honestly really liked how the whole foil and good-yet-bad and consideration of raz being 10 thing worked out. this oc is almost like our representative in the psychonauts world the way reigen is for the audience in mp100. yea :) i match them up a lot but thats just cause they vibe a lot. anyways its 1:40 am now and i spent abt an hour on this hope it vibed mildly byeeee
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voidstilesplease · 3 years
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Swords and Arrows
or That Summer When The Ares and Athena Cabins Finally Allied For Capture The Flag part 1 of 3
⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹
(A Steo Demigod AU) || For @anonymous's prompt: "Scott as a Roman demigod instead of Greek" || word count: 2,647 || The Entire Demigod Series -> [AO3][Tumblr] (it's finally a working link tfg)
Stiles pulls back, "I was going to ask if you missed me," he says, face flushed and beaming. "But it appears I don't need to."
"You never need to."
🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️
I.
"Why the long face, little brother?" Tara asks cheerfully, wedging herself on the bench between Theo and one of their half-siblings, and placing down her tray brimming with colorful food as opposed to Theo's bleak and half-empty one. She grins at Theo, but he's not in the mood to return the goodwill.
Theo pokes half-heartedly at the contents of his tray: a lonely sealed bag with a couple squares of ambrosia inside - the food of the gods - some cheese and two slices of wheat bread. "Don't call me little brother," he mutters with little heat, leaning to the table to whisper a request to his goblet, which immediately fills up with sparkling water.
Tara looks over Theo's head at Fred, their Head Counselor, sitting on Theo's other side. "He's not back yet?"
Fred shakes his head, wiping the bbq sauce at the side of his mouth. "Nope," he replies, popping the 'p' and catching on to the question without much elaboration. By now, there's only one 'he' that reduces Theo to a brooding and sulky man-child. "He hasn't answered Theo's last IM, too."
"Try the last five Iris Messages," Theo grumbles in annoyance. He turns to Tara, face contorted in a sour expression. "I mean, how difficult is it to take my call? He always has drachmas in his pocket exactly for this reason."
"He's probably busy disintegrating monsters," Fred says reasonably. Which, of course, makes sense. Monsters make the most infuriating and persistent roadblock of all. They make any journey twice as long for demigods - if they don't manage to kill you, that is. "Or, you know," Fred adds, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "maybe he's being an accomodating companion to the Son of Jupiter."
Theo grinds his teeth hard and fixes his head counselor with a death glare. Fred only shrugs at Theo's reaction, obviously aiming for the exact response, and chuckling through a bite of ambrosia. Theo has half a mind to punch him in the jugular. He doesn't need a reminder of who Stiles is with, thanks. Spitefully, he harshly impales a piece of grape from Fred's tray with the tines of his fork and shoves it to his mouth in the most menacing manner he can project.
It only makes Fred guffaw, spraying bits of food onto the table. The campers across from him slide their trays away protectively, shrieking an indignant chorus of "Fred!" as they make sure no stray bits made it into their platters. Fred raps at his chest as he reaches for his goblet, still laughing his dumb ass off while trying to wave his hand in apology.
Their neighbors also share their opinion on the appalling table manners of the Ares brood - spitting out food may slightly be a common scene from their lot, unfortunately.
Brett from the Apollo cabin throws corn kernels at Fred, a strange display of solidarity if you can believe it, while Ara, the half-Korean junior counselor of Athena cabin, gives the Ares and Apollo tables a look of disapproval. She's a pretty terrifying 15 years old, which is why Stiles is extremely fond of her. With Stiles gone to New Rome the first week back to camp, Ara is doing a kickass job taking over the head counselor duty. (But, to Hades with it, Theo would much prefer Stiles to be scowling at their table.)
"Okay, first of all," Tara says over the little chaos. "Fred, you're disgusting. Second," she holds Theo's chin to compel him to look at her, then smirks, "Stealing a piece of fruit is not a cabin 5-worthy intimidation tactic."
Theo opens his mouth for his scathing retort, but at the same time, one of Stiles's younger siblings points in the direction of the cabins. "Hey, it's Stiles!"
Many heads look up, but Theo springs to his feet instantly, scanning the area for Stiles. He catches sight of him almost immediately, bounding to the Mess Hall in his orange shirt, face bright under the camp's enchanted borders, as radiant as the last time Theo saw him four long months ago. Without much thought, Theo finds himself carried by his feet towards Stiles.
Stiles sees him coming too, and his smile broaden. Theo sprints, forgetting himself and where they are. They meet halfway, by the entrance of the Mess Hall, with Theo knocking into Stiles's open arms strong enough that it's a surprise they're still upright on the ground.
Theo squeezes him to make sure his mind did not conjure a Spectre to appease his longing. Stiles feels solid under his hands, if a little sweaty, and he smells as if he was run over by monsters. But underneath the grime, he catches the scent of Stiles's favorite body wash. He feels himself sagging in satisfaction.
Stiles pulls back, "I was going to ask if you missed me," he says, face flushed and beaming. "But it appears I don't need to."
"You never need to."
Theo doesn't know how long they stood just smiling at each other, but they break apart at Chiron's pointed clearing of the throat. It's not even in Theo's head to be embarrassed by his actions despite the cackling and many leering faces of the other demigods. Mr. D merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow, though the twinkle in his eyes can only be from amusement.
Chiron is sitting on his wheelchair today, hiding his horse's ass behind the illusion of human legs - why he still does it is a wonder - and rolls forward to them.
"Stiles Stilinski," he greets merrily, the lines of his eyes crinkling when he smiles. "Welcome back." Chiron gazes a little behind them, then, nodding kindly towards another boy Theo only notices, is standing patiently at a distance.
The boy, Scott McCall, son of Jupiter and a praetor of the Roman demigods' army, the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, steps forward to bow his head in respect of the centaur. "Chiron," he also acknowledges Mr. D who didn't bother to get up from the head table. "Lord Bacchus."
"Hm," Mr. D hums without correcting the demigod, sipping on his diet coke dismissively.
Theo doesn't hate Scott, but he also doesn't like him - strongly, irrationally, dislikes him. Instinctively, he shuffles closer to Stiles as if his boyfriend is going to dissolve into the Mist if he isn't close enough to pull him back.
Theo's been agitated since Stiles told him, a week prior, that he was flying to New Rome in California where Camp Jupiter is, the Roman camp, for a 'friendly' visit. Everyone's allowed to cross borders, but no one has really done so just to tour around. After all, the camps are on opposing sides of the country and monsters don't pause to consider not killing vacationing demigods.
A couple of times before last week, when Theo visited Stiles in his Manhattan apartment, he'd, out of the blue, mentioned the varied courses and scholarships that New Rome University offered, as Theo laid his head on Stiles's lap while the latter read. Theo hadn't minded it at the time, as Stiles quickly dropped the subject. But another month passed and Stiles mentioned it again, randomly, during one of their IMs, adding that he might check into the enrollment requisites. Theo started to worry, then.
If Stiles goes to New Rome for college, Theo can't follow him. He never even got to finish eighth grade. And Scott, he's one of the Romans, their leader, and grudging as he is to admit, one of Stiles's friends now the more he visits Camp Half-Blood. He will eagerly encourage Stiles, telling him of the countless perks that Camp Jupiter has. He will be as big a hero there as he is in Camp Half-Blood, and he can rise to praetorship alongside Scott if the Legion so wishes it.
Scott is not a bad person per se, but he wears the color and insignia of the place Theo might lose Stiles to. And if Theo blinks the wrong way, he might not see quick enough that Stiles is being whisked away to the other side of the coast, leading a life without him.
⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹
After officially welcoming the son of Jupiter to the camp, feeding him, and getting him settled in Cabin One, the campers go about their daily routine of training.
The blade vibrates when it hits the shooting log, right on the marked spot. Then it disappears into thin air and reappears in Theo's hand only to be thrown back to the same spot. He does it repeatedly, unrelentingly, until Tara aims with his bow and hits his blade with an arrow to send both weapons clanging to the ground, a few meters away.
Theo heaves; he doesn't even know he's breathless just from throwing until then. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, he nods appreciatively at the bow in Tara's hands when his sister stands beside him with a smile. "If we aren't siblings, I'd mistake you for a daughter of Apollo."
"Please," she laughs, opening her palm, gesturing at the fallen weapons. Both her arrow and Theo's blade fly to her hands in a matter of seconds. "I don't want to light up like a glow stick while waxing poetry during a fight." Children of Apollo don't actually do those in the middle of a fight, but they do glow when they're healing, and they can make others speak in rhymes just for fun. Tara offers the knife back to his brother. "Also, we're children of Ares. By birthright alone, we should know to wield any weapon of war."
Theo takes the knife and snorts, "And yet, I suck at archery."
"I can't summon weapons out of thin air," She points out, grinning at him as she puts the arrow back to its sheaf. "I guess we just can't have it all or Zeus would be zapping us one by one."
Theo scoffs, leaning into position to begin throwing again.
"Speaking of Zeus," Tara says, a playful tone in her words. "Where's your favorite son of the Sky God?"
Theo spares her a glare before flinging his knife and burying it onto the battered practice log. He purses his lips before answering, "He's at the Big House with Chiron, Mr. D, Stiles, and the other head counselors." He clenches his fingers around the blade's hilt when it returns to his hands. "They're talking about a little orientation on New Rome University's scholarships and handing brochures and study guide for the DSTOMP." Theo doesn't bother hiding the acid in his voice from his sister. She'll recognize it anyway, even if he masks it with neutrality. He can't mask it with neutrality.
She quirks a brow, "You don't sound too eager," she notes. "Are you still jealous of Scott, little brother?"
"I'm not jealous of Scott," he says, gritting his teeth. "And don't call me little brother."
"Why are you so strung up, then, if you're not baselessly jealous?"
He finds his reply being interrupted for the second time that day, this time by a distant rumbling coming from the sky. All activities on the ground cease as everyone turns to the increasing volume of an invisible running engine. Theo scans the space above them, at first not grasping anything in motion, until a burst of light reveals a flying, glowing red bus coming down fast to the ground.
🏹⚔️🏹⚔️🏹⚔️
Someone goes to alert Chiron as the rest of them scamper to the landing site by the amphitheater. The bus landed surprisingly smooth, despite its breakneck descent.
"Is that a Ferrari bus?" One of the campers points out.
Sure enough, the logo at the front of the vehicle, a black prancing horse on a yellow background, is of the famous luxury sports brand. But why would there be a flying Ferrari bus at Camp Half-Blood?
"Oh gods," Lori gasps somewhere on Theo's left. "Is that dad's sun chariot?"
As if on cue, the bus door opens, and a teenager who looks about Theo's age exits, wearing what he can only describe as a hipster look. He flashes a blinding grin - and quite literally at that, since they have to shield their eyes momentarily from the glimmer of his teeth - clears his throat dramatically, and announces:
"Hello demigods
The sun landed on your grounds
I am so awesome."
There's silence at first, then a series of enthusiastic applause from Brett and the rest of cabin seven comes next. The teenager bows theatrically, although Theo finds nothing extraordinary about what he just said. But soon, the others join in with half-hearted claps, recognizing the powerful aura suddenly seeping into their skins that could only mean there's a god among them - well, another god, aside from Dionysus, their Camp Director. And with the terrible haiku, there will be no mistaking who graced their camp today. The last time Theo had seen him, during the almost war on his first year at camp, the god had worn the body of a muscular mid-20's blond man. Now, it seems he favors to look even younger despite his four thousand years.
"Lord Apollo," Chiron's voice drowns out the applaud as he trots forward, now in his form as a white stallion from the waist down. "It's a pleasant surprise. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."
Mr. D isn't as warm. He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Oh, bother, what brought you here now?"
Apollo's bright persona doesn't falter as he gestures at the bus - that is apparently his sun chariot. Theo remembers the time when he almost drove Apollo's chariot, if the Hermes cabin did not snitch it from under their noses, and thus putting three cabins grounded after a severe prank war. He had to take Liam's dish duties and pay him just so his present for Stiles could be delivered in time for Christmas.
"I'm here at the request of my little sister." The god says proudly, as the door opens again, this time with grumbling teenage and prepubescent girls coming out from the bus. All dressed in the same outfit: silver jackets, silver camo pants, and black combat boots, and they carry at their backs a quiver of sharp silver arrows. They glance at Apollo with apparent distrust, standing as far away from him as possible, as the god continues, "To deliver her hunters safely while she's away on a personal errand."
Several demigods groan in displeasure at the news, and even Chiron's lips form a thin line, though he tries to smile through the tension. Mr. D seems to be delighted now, though, happier to see the strange, vicious-looking ladies than his own brother. Personally, it feels like an omen of danger. Mr. D is never happy unless something perilous is about to descend upon his campers - even if his own daughter, Malia, is among them.
"Thank you, Lord Apollo." One of the hunters says albeit she looks physically pained by her words. She stands at the front of the group, a silver ring headwear around her head, with bouncing black curls, a pointed nose, and a strong chin. The other hunters also look at her when she speaks. It's easy to recognize her as the group's leader. "And thank you, Lord Dionysus, Chiron, for accomodating the hunters of Lady Artemis."
Chiron nods at the girl, eyes softening with kindness born out of familiarity, "You're always welcome, Allison."
Mr. D laughs boisterously, then. Like his punishment has just been lifted and he can go back to Olympus and away from the brats, celebrating by getting drunk on wine after years of prohibition. "Well, at least, Capture the Flag this Friday seems more enticing now, don't you think so, Chiron?" He gives a wicked grin at his campers, not waiting for a reply, his change in demeanor promising a torturous next few days for the demigods. "Ready to lose the Camp Half-Blood banner to these little girls for the 58th time in a row?"
~•~
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Next chapter of My Past Became Our Future is up on Ao3! 😄
https://archiveofourown.org/works/30903125/chapters/77428313
Still in Logan’s POV, it’s a long one... but I really wanted to include a lot of details that I think worked pretty well! :)
TW: There’s alcohol mentions in this one, but that’s it.
Taglist: @psychedelicships @edupunkn00b @jwillowwolf @look-ma-im-on-tv @kacklingisanart @lost-in-thought-20 @stardustlv 🌟
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Chapter Six
“If I lay here. If I just lay here. Would you lie you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Logan thought that if he stared at the photograph long enough, he could live in it. He’d be with the Virgil of the past and they would be happy. No secrets, no dramatic revelations, just the two of them. He wouldn't be lying on the floor on his own, Virgil would be here with him, hand in hand. Just like they had done on many nights during their marriage. His mind was overwhelmed with trying to cling to the past, trying to work out if there any signs that he missed, but he continued to stare at the photograph and begged the memory to come to the forefront. It finally worked and Logan could escape to the past, even if it was just for a little while...
He remembered feeling incredibly nervous as he pulled up to Virgil’s apartment. At this point, they had been seeing each other for six months, but this was the first time he had gone to Virgil’s place and their first official date as boyfriends. He walked up gingerly to the door and searched for his name. Even here, he didn’t have a last name. He shrugged and just assumed Virgil liked his privacy as he pressed the buzzer waiting for a response.
“Hello?” Virgil’s voice was cautious as he answered the intercom.
“Greetings Starlight, it’s Logan.” He took a deep breath as the door unlocked and he made his way up the stairs to Virgil’s front door. He stopped on the doorstep and saw a letter handwritten to Virgil with a small dagger insignia in the corner which he picked up. The front door was slightly ajar and he saw Virgil peering out of the small gap, there was a small glint of something metal in his hand, but as soon as he saw Logan he smiled and threw the door open. He ran out while pocketing the metal thing that Logan couldn’t decipher and lept into Logan’s arms. They spun around before Logan put him down and smiled softly at him, Virgil grabbed his hand and pulled him into the apartment.
He was impressed at the size of the place, and how immaculate it was. He must be in the wrong job if working in HR gives you enough money to rent somewhere like this. Virgil shuffled around uncomfortably so he tried to not look too amazed.
“Do you want a drink or something before we head off to the restaurant? I’ve got pretty much everything, even that wine you like.” Logan saw that he was rubbing his shoulder and wincing like he was trying to get rid of a nagging pain there as he spoke, but decided not to press it.
“Aww it’s sweet that you remembered! I’ll have a glass of the wine, as long as you have one with me!” He winked as Virgil laughed and went off to the kitchen.
“Oh, I forgot! There was a letter in the main hall for you. It’s got a dagger stamp in the corner so I guessed it was something you’ve been waiting for?” There was an uncharacteristic silence as he waited for Virgil to tell him what to do with it.
“Could you… put it in the cabinet drawer please? I’ll take a look at it later.” There was a slight hint of panic in Virgil’s voice, but he did what was asked and walked over to the cabinet and opened the drawer. It was difficult to put the letter in because there were already five or so letters already in there, but still managed to set it in carefully and closed the drawer before moving away.
Logan wandered around the main space of the apartment and noticed a whole collection of photos on a set of shelves. He looked closely at them and saw Virgil with a group of people he didn’t recognize. There was one of him squished between the middle of two guys that were slightly taller than him, he noticed they were all wearing similar wristbands of different colours; one red, one yellow and Virgil’s was purple. Logan smiled, Virgil looked really cute when he was a few years younger. He moved onto the next frame, he was arm in arm with a slightly older man, if he had to hazard a guess that could be his father or someone. The wristbands again were a common theme, the other man was wearing a thicker light blue one compared to Virgil’s purple band. Logan squinted as he saw there was a person lingering in the back of that photograph, he was staring intently at the older man, almost like his sole purpose was to protect him. He wouldn’t have even noticed him if it wasn’t for the bright green wristband.
He turned around suddenly as Virgil coughed from behind him holding out two glasses of wine. He blushed a little and took the glass, he looked down at the floor unsure whether to ask about the photos.
“You can ask me… If you want to.” His eyes shot up, was Virgil telepathic or something? He took a breath before making his choice.
“I’m sorry, I got a bit curious… You haven’t mentioned any friends or close family before. So I was wondering who these people were…?” He smiled in a reassuring way that emphasized that he didn’t need to share any information he didn’t want to.
“… It’s okay. I trust you. These guys are- were, my Family. I moved in with them when I was eighteen. Here…” He gently took the two photo frames, leant against Logan and pointed to the different people.
“This is Roman, then me, and Janus. They were basically my brothers. The… other person is Patton. Practically my dad, that’s how I used to think of him. He was my martial arts instructor for many years until I joined the league- I mean, moved into the Family. My parents had… left, so Patton took me in until I wanted to move on.” Logan opened his mouth about to ask about the person at the back, but looking at how Virgil was biting his lip desperately trying not to cry, he decided to leave it. He took the photos back and set them exactly where they were before an alarm went off on his phone.
“Oh crap, we need to get going Starlight or we’ll be late!” He set the wine glass down that he hadn’t drunk yet, and Virgil downed his quickly before running off to grab a jacket. Logan sighed, that was quite lucky.
They drove to the restaurant with the windows down and music blaring as loud as it could go. He loved watching Virgil singing along to incredibly cheesy pop music, it made his heart swell every time. As they got closer, he turned the music down as he parked the car. He noticed Virgil’s leg was bouncing and he looked a little agitated. So Logan grabbed his hand and squeezed it, he squeezed it back strongly and as soon as they got out the car, he held his hand out halfway for Virgil to take again. From what Virgil had said, he never went out to restaurants very often, so this was a brand new experience for him.
They walked in and Logan gave his name. The girl grabbed the menus and sat them down, she called them an adorable couple before leaving to give them some time to look over everything. He couldn’t help but notice how Virgil blushed at the compliment before staring intensely at the menu. She came back quickly and jotted down their pretty basic order before lighting the candle in the middle of their table and leaving them to it once again. Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand and just gazed at him smiling gently.
“What are you looking at?” Virgil giggled as he noticed Logan staring at him.
“You, and how perfect you are.” He replied back as Virgil blushed an even brighter shade of pink.
“Stop it!” Logan couldn’t help but laugh, and squeezed his hand once again.
The table next to them was then filled by two men about the same age as them and Virgil pulled his hand away sharply. Logan understood why, you never know what people might be like.
“Oh my gosh! Honey, aren’t they just the cutest!!” The taller man in the red shirt squealed and held his hands over his mouth as he looked at Virgil and Logan, they glanced at each other. That wasn’t the reaction they were expecting. The slightly shorter man in the gold jumper rolled his eye affectionately before he stepped forward.
“Oh boys, please excuse my husband… He gets over excited sometimes. Anyway, my name is Nico and this is Thomas. It’s lovely to meet you!” He held out his hand, Logan shook it first and Virgil stopped looking at Nico like he was a threat and shook his hand too, then Thomas came forward to do the same.
“Hi, I’m Logan and this is my boyfriend, Virgil.” He smiled warmly and after Thomas ordered for their table, they talked about everything and anything for the rest of the evening.
The one part of the conversation that Logan always remembered was when they had all received their food and Thomas asked,
“So, come on! Spill the gossip! What’s your favourite thing about each other??” Thomas and Nico were leaning forward, intent on hearing the answer. Logan looked at Virgil, he could only pick one thing? This is going to be difficult. They both stopped eating so they could think of an answer.
“He makes me laugh, on my worst days, he always knows how to make me smile.” Logan was surprised that Virgil spoke first, but he beamed proudly at him. That was a really sweet statement, Nico and Thomas clearly agreed as they shrieked at how adorable it was.
“Yes, he keeps me grounded. There’s no one else’s opinion I care about more than his, he listens to me and no one has ever made me feel as happy as he does.” Logan smiled fondly as Virgil’s eyes welled up with tears slightly. Thomas and Nico had to contain themselves and Thomas clutched his chest as they both cheered.
“Ahh my heart! You two are absolute cuteness overload. Nico, we don’t need desert… these two are sweet enough! Quick, Logan. Hand me your phone, I want to get you a picture of the two of you!” While Logan handed Thomas his phone, Nico snuck off to go and grab the waitress. Logan moved his chair so he was next to Virgil, held his hand and the two of them smiled at the camera and Thomas took a ridiculous number of photos in the process.
“I thought we could get a photo of the four of us? You are our new best friends after all!” Nico asked excitedly, there was absolutely no way they could or would have said no. They all stood up and gathered around the table beaming at the camera, and as they then paid for the bills, they checked the photos and Logan agreed to send them on. He took their phone numbers and gave them Virgil’s as well before heading out hand in hand with Virgil.
As they drove back to Virgil’s apartment, he couldn’t help but notice how much Virgil’s eyes were sparkling, it truly was a beautiful evening. The music was blaring again, and even Logan sang along this time. They reached the apartment way too quickly, he didn’t want to leave yet, but they both got out of the car slowly and walked to the door agonizingly slow. He took both of Virgil’s hands and mustered up all of his courage…
“This might sound crazy, but after tonight I feel like I can say this with absolute confidence. I cannot picture my life without you, and I think it’s very clear now. I love you, with every fibre of my being.” As soon as those words left his lips, he knew that it was right, he didn’t mind if Virgil didn’t say it yet. He just wanted him to know that he was loved and cherished.
“I feel exactly the same, I didn’t want to say it because I thought it would be too early on and I didn’t want to scare you off. I love you too, to the ends of the unknown universe and back.” He felt a weight lift off his shoulders and he pulled Virgil in for a passionate kiss which was eagerly reciprocated. He pulled away and smiled fondly at Virgil who was beaming back at him. He slowly stepped backwards allowing their hands to disconnect as he practically walked on air back to his car.
Logan snapped out of that memory and looked around desperately trying to find Virgil before realizing he wasn’t there right now. That was a perfect night, almost as perfect as their wedding day. There were so many signs that he missed, why did he ignore them? He shut his eyes tight and grounded himself to reality. He needed to clear up the mess first before he even considered remembering the most beautiful day of their life. His phone lit up with some pointless news article, he probably needed to talk to someone before he spiraled into living a fantasy.
Who did he really want to talk to though? Thomas and Nico? Or Virgil?
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toplinetommy · 4 years
Text
You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part One) - Tyson Jost
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gif by @pavszacha​
Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate
Word Count: 3.5k
series playlist
January 2017 – University of North Dakota
It was your senior year at NoDak, and you couldn’t believe that you had somehow made it through nearly four years of school already. You of course had the help from your roommates who doubled as your best friends, and the hockey team to keep you sane from everything that comes with being a student studying purchasing management. If you were told freshman year you would be buddy-buddy with any D1 sports team, you would’ve laughed.
That’s kind of how you ended up where you were today: a student-athlete tutor. You were a marketing major, loving it so much and needing some extra money, you had decided to tutor the first level econ and marketing classes when you were a second-semester sophomore.
You were in the middle of tutoring a few of the guys that were all enrolled in Intro to Economics when a guy you had never seen came barreling in the room.
“Hey, Boes, do you know when the bus leaves tomorrow? I didn’t write it down and no one sent it in the group chat.” The curly headed brunette spoke. You figured he was on the team with what he said combined with the green UND hockey shirt he wore.
“Uhh 10:30, and don’t be late you saw what happened to Cam last week.” The blonde in front of you chirped. The brunette scoffed as he rolled his eyes, exiting the room just as quickly as he entered.
“Who was that?” you ask the guys surrounding you, bringing your Yeti to your lips for a sip of water.
“Why, you think he’s cute?” Brock smirked, causing both Tucker and Andrew to laugh. He was one of the guys you had been tutoring since freshman year, so you had a closer bond to him then some of the other guys on the team.
His chirp had you choking on the last bit of water in your mouth, “What! I can’t just ask who a guy I’ve never seen before is?”
“Name’s Tyson, he’s a freshman from Canada.” You nodded, noticing the slight accent he had when he spoke earlier. “I think he’s only here for the year though, he was a top 10 pick in the  draft.”
At that, the boys all went back to taking their notes and working on their case studies as the new boy’s face stuck in your mind for a few more minutes.
“By the way, are you coming to our next home game? It’s next Friday.” Tucker said as he put his laptop into his backpack. “I’ll even let you wear my alternate jersey.”
You laughed at this, the boys always making jokes on who’s jersey you got to wear whenever you went to games. “Only if you finish your econ stuff before then.” He agrees, and you and the boys all make your way out of the common room.
-
A knock on your front door startles you as you eat your sandwich, and before you can get up to go see who it is, Tucker is walking into your apartment, green sweater in hand.
“Okay, so I might not have washed my jerseys still, so here’s a different one.” He admits, tossing the sweater in your general direction. You unfold the jersey seeing the number 17 stitched onto the sleeves and the name Jost on the back.
“Tuck, I literally have no idea who’s jersey this is?”
“Oh! It’s Josty’s, the freshman. We’re also playing a prank on all the new guys tonight so we stole all of their green jerseys so they think they're missing.” The brunette in front of you laughs to himself. You agree to wear it, only because you don’t really have anything else to wear and you’d thought entertaining this so-called prank would do no harm.
It’s a few hours later and the mystery-man’s jersey looks like it was made to fit you with how it drapes over your shoulders. You’re sitting with two of your roommates that you had to drag along as well as one of their boyfriend’s. One of the many perks about going to a school like North Dakota was that there was one sport everyone bonded over: ice hockey.
Warmups had just started and you finally spot #17 on the ice and that’s when it hits you. Jost. Tyson Jost. Number 17. The freshman, the guy that you had met for the first time just a few days prior. The guy that you thought was kind of cute. No scratch that, not kind of, but definitely cute.
“Dude, Allison,” You nudge your roommates shoulder. “I don’t think the team is playing a prank on the freshies, I think Tuck is playing a prank on me.”
Allison quirks her eyebrows in confusion, urging you to keep talking. “If they were gonna steal their jerseys why would they hand them out to people and not just hide them?” You groan, and Allison doesn’t think too much of it, not knowing the ins and outs of the team like you do.
The game ends with a win, the arena shaking with excitement. You knew the boys would be excited with the win, especially coming after a tough loss earlier in the week.
You and your friends make your way back home and you text the group chat you’re in with the guys you tutor letting them know they played great.
Dumb Jocks + 1 Y/N: great game guys 🤩 *Brock loved the message* Andrew: thanks y/n! Andrew: also party at the house 10pm Y/N: might drag the roomies and make an appearance. and tuck, im ripping you a new one when i see you Tucky: just for that i decided its going to be a jersey party 😈 *Brock laughed at the message*
It’s two hours later when you walk through the front door of the NoDak hockey house. You were probably one of the handful of people there that actually spend time there both sober and when the sun is shining. This gives you much more confidence navigating your way through to the back of the living room, finding the small group of guys you actually know on the team.
The group consisting of Tucker, Andrew, Brock, and Johnny, cheers as you approach them. You walk straight up to Tucker, giving him a hard clap on the shoulder to say hi to him. “Hey, Tucky, you gotta real nice jersey on you there.” You chirp, gesturing to his Drew Doughty jersey. “It’s almost like you play hockey or something.”
Tucker shakes your hand that’s still resting on his shoulder off and points it back towards you. “I think the real story here, bud, is the jersey you’re rocking tonight.” You hadn’t bothered changing out of the green sweater between the game and now, opting to show school spirit. Besides, how often did you get to wear a player’s jersey, right?
You roll your eyes as the other boys look to see the commotion between you and Tucker. The boys snicker at the sight of you two upon seeing the green #17 sweater still adorning your body.
“Tucky, I didn’t know you actually got her to wear it!” Brock emphasized, going into to dap up his teammate. Your head snapped towards the blonde, shooting him, as well as the other boys all a glare.
“Anyways, I’m here to get drunk and win some flip cup, not be patronized by a bunch of dumb jocks.” You joke, looking over your shoulder to see where your other friends went. You say your goodbyes, letting them know you’ll see them around throughout the night.
You’re standing near the staircase with your friends, about halfway done with your third drink when the freshman brunette walks up to your group.
“So that’s where my alternate jersey went, eh?”
You scoffed into your cup, your friends laughing at the confrontation. “Yeah, I guess so.”
An awkward silence falls over your small group, the unintended snarkiness of your tone being felt by everyone. Your few friends leave the two of you, mentioning that they needed refills.
“Sorry about the jersey. I can wash it tomorrow and bring it the next time I tutor the guys.”
Tyson leans against the wall across from you, “It’s no problem. I don’t think we wear them again until next month anyways.”
Silence falls between the two of you again, the one common denominator between the two of you being the jersey hanging over your shoulders.
“So, uh, what do you tutor the guys in?” Tyson pipes up, hiding his expression behind the Bud Light in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a swig.
“Mainly econ, but I help some of the guys in specific classes depending on their major. Like, Johnny and Tucker, for example. They’re both in finance and econ, and I’ve taken a lot of those classes.”
“You’re an econ major then?”
“Oh, no,” you laugh. “My minor is econ, but I’m a marketing major. What about you? Have you decided on a major yet?”
The question pulls a laugh out of Tyson, confusing you. “Yeah, I’m pre-athletic training, but I don’t see myself finishing that out.”
You swallow the rest of your drink and decide to chirp him a bit, “What? Too big of some hockey hot-shot to get a degree?”
That comment elicits another laugh from the Canadian in front of you, and that’s when you decide you could definitely get used to hearing that sound.
He gets ready to answer when Tucker yells at the both of you from the kitchen, “Josty! y/n! We’re about to start flip cup, let’s go!”
Tyson chugs the rest of his beer before setting it on a nearby table and grabbing another one from the case in the fridge. He takes a spot across from you on the other side of the table as you guys jump into the game.
As the games continue, your level of sobriety starts to deteriorate and a light dizziness falls over your body. The current game of flip cup being played is elimination style and your team had lost, the other team electing to have you kicked off your team.
You move to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter to continue watching the game unfold in front of you. You pulled out your phone, trying to figure out where some of your group had disappeared to, seeing that one of them had already left to go hookup with one of her usual hookups.
You start to type back to her, letting her know that you’ll text her when you’re home when you feel a presence next to you. Turning your head to the side you see Tyson reappearing next to you.
He notices the mix of drunkness and tiredness on your face, asking if you were all good. You nod your head, going to scratch the discomfort you feel at the back of your left elbow. “I think I’m getting ready to go home soon, just trying to make sure my friends and I all leave at the same time.”
Tyson nods, tight-lipped, and offers to help you find them. As you walk around the house gathering your friends, the discomfort on your elbow only grows.
April 2017 – University of North Dakota
You’re standing in your apartment, waiting around on Tucker and Brock to come pick you up before the banquet, staring yourself down in the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You get dressed up often, but never quite this dressed up and your nerves are getting the best of you. You don’t think anything can prepare yourself for the dinner you’re about to go to: the North Dakota men’s hockey senior banquet.
As you put your earrings in, you hear a knock on the front door and the boys shouting that they were here. You yell back that you were coming, heading to the kitchen to grab your flask and purse.
“You excited for your first hockey banquet?” Tucker yelled into the kitchen. You had known him for the past two years, regularly tutoring him, and over the course of those years he had somehow become one of your best friends.
Walking out into the living room, where the two boys were sitting, you let them know that you were excited and ready to go.
“Damn, y/n, didn’t know you were such a rocket.” Brock whistles. You roll your eyes at them, but specifically him, and gesture towards the door.
You sit with Tucker and some of the other guys you know from tutoring, and get through dinner barely speaking a word due to all of the speeches being made. The dinner was good, it was a nice break from your cooking and the fast-food you were used to eating on a regular basis.
You got more involved in the conversations as the seniors got to make speeches, asking Tucker what some of the inside jokes and chirps were all about. Lots of laughter and snuck-in alcohol later, the boys and their dates were ready for their bar crawl.
Your large group walks into to the first bar, the boys going straight up to the bar to get drinks as no-one really pregamed. The group ends up all back together for the first bit, taking over one of the front corners of the balcony that overlooks the rest of the bar. You guys were clearly over dressed for the dive bar located right off of campus with all the guys in suits and ties and the girls in dresses and heels, whereas everyone else was dressed for the cold April weather.
Tucker finally makes his way back to you, two drinks in his hand, as he hands one over to you. You thank him loudly and quickly jump into conversation.
“You sad I’m leaving you guys soon?” You yell, with a wide smile on your face. Tucker, Andrew, Brock and Johnny all laugh at you. You were the oldest of the group, as everyone else was either a junior or younger.
“I’ll be sad not being here, but I won’t be sad that I’m finally done with school.” Brock admits, to which he earns a few eye rolls from the other guys. Both Andrew and Johnny weren’t really on a clear cut path to the NHL, instead just playing for the fun of it at this level.
The conversations start to slow down in the group as the music gets louder and more drinks are consumed. Tucker and Brock get pulled away by some of the other guys for a little bit, leaving you alone with some of the girls as well as Andrew and Johnny.
You’re in the middle of a story being told when you hear Brock and Tucker’s booming laughter not too far away from you. When you turn to look at them, they’re standing with Tyson, who looks as if he’s speaking into both of their ears so they can hear him properly. Tucker is grasping his chest as he spots you looking at him, causing him to only laugh harder.
A light flush falls on your cheeks, confused as to why the sight of you makes him laugh more. You put your straw in your mouth, biting down on it as a nervous habit, and look down at your dress making sure nothing was spilled on you.
When you look up again, Tucker is no longer where he was standing and his voice startles you as he appears next to you. “You will never believe what just happened,” he starts, a hint of laughter still laced in his tone. “Tyson just asked me if we were together.”
The accusation makes you laugh, too, the both of you starting to lose your breath at the crazy thought. The both of you had become such good friends over the past 18 months that he was more like a brother than anything else.
The laughter dies down, and a realization hits you. “Why the fuck did he want to know if we’re dating?”
“I think the kid thinks you’re cute.” Tucker smirks, raising his eyebrows before downing the rest of his drink.
Your face flushes again, and as you finally go to respond to the statement you see the culprit of the previous conversation heading your way. Turning to your friend for an escape, you see that he has made himself seemingly disappear into the crowd. By the time you spot the tall brunette he’s out on the dancefloor talking to some girl.
You turn back around, trying to find someone new to start a conversation with when there’s a tap on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder, you see that Tyson finally made his way over to you.
In light of the new information Tucker has given you, you sheepishly greet the freshman in front of you. His just as shy response gives you a little boost of confidence and you decide to mess with him a little. “Aren’t you a little too young to get into American bars?”
“Perks of my status, I guess.” He shrugs with a hint of cockiness in his tone, a new found confidence showing on his face.
“Oh, the big-shot Canadian hockey player status?”
He laughs pointedly “that’s the one.”
You were trying to figure out how to articulate your words about what he was laughing about with Tucker earlier in the night, when a wet substance pours down your back. Your jaw drops open, shoulders shrugging in both shock and discomfort. The back of your light blue dress is completely and noticeably soaking wet.
Tyson watches everything unfold in front of him. He watches your bright eyes and smiling cheeks do a complete 180 into a scowl. You whip around to whoever spilled their drink on you, ready to give them a piece of your mind. As you open your mouth, getting ready to tell the guy off that he hadn't noticed what he had just done, a large hand wraps around your stomach pulling you back.
“Hey, it’s not a big deal. He’s probably plastered and didn’t mean to spill.” Tyson assures lowly into your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand straight up. The hand not holding your drink goes to hold where Tyson’s hand is placed on your stomach, using his warmth to bring you back down to earth.
You take a deep breath and try to swallow your embarrassment before turning back towards him. You rest wrap your hands around his biceps as he continues to rest his free hand on the small of your back. Looking back up at him only makes you feel embarrassed again, realizing he’s touching the gross substance that was dumped all over you.
“I want to leave.” You let out in a whisper.
“You sure? We can find the other guys and stay if you want and try to have a good rest of the night. I don’t think anyone will care.” Tyson says, caution laced in his soft tone.
Shutting your eyes and tightening your grip on him, you continue, “I care and I just want to go home and shower.” You turn out of his grip for a moment to try and spot either Tucker or Brock in the crowd. You find them rather quickly, both with girls, causing you to sign heavily. “I’m going to call an Uber.”
You start to walk away towards the door but Tyson catches up to you quickly. Grabbing your hand he pulls you back into him slightly. “I had two beers, y/n, I can drive you back.”
You nod your head and thank him for the offer, leading him out of the bar and towards the parking lot. You follow him to his car and as you get to your door, he opens it for you. You thank him and he runs over to the driver’s side, jumps into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and turns the radio down.
His car finally pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you lift your head from the car window to turn to him. “Thank you for driving me, I really appreciate it. Sorry you had to miss out on the senior bar crawl for this.”
“It’s no problem, at all. I would’ve wanted to leave under those circumstances, too.” He admits. You give him an awkward tight lipped smile to say goodbye as you hop out of the car. As you open your front door you turn back to wave at him, yelling another thank you.
When you’re in the shower a little while later, you can’t seem to shake the comfort you felt when he pulled you away from the guy that had spilled his drink on you. Smiling to yourself, you turn the water off, dry off and put lotion on your elbows noticing how dry and itchy they both were towards the end of the night.
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baroquebucky · 4 years
Note
jealous!bucky one shot where the reader is an actress/model who has to work with one of her celeb crush
a/n: i can never turn down jealous bucky >:) let me know what you guys think !!
Your alarm rang and you rolled over to turn it off, only to miss it by an inch because of the iron grip you were in. “Buck” you whispered, turning over to face him, having to wiggle to be able to look at him. He grumbled a little, losening his grip slightly. You gave him a soft kiss on his jawline and moved to turn on your alarm once more, as soon as he let go of you.
“Do you even have to go? Can’t you just say I saved the world and they give you a free pass” bucky grumbled, opening his eyes slightly. You smiled at his comment and sat up on the bed, looking down at him. “no I can’t, and as much as I’d love to stay I’m actually really excited for this photoshoot” you smiled, getting off the bed and stretching until a little Yelp left your mouth. You sighed in relief and headed to the restroom, by the time you were out you saw bucky sitting up on the bed, resting against the headboard.
“Is this for the movie with that one guy?” He asked, confused and slightly squirming as you looked at him. “I have many movies with guys buck you have to be more specific” you smiled, planting a kiss on his lips before moving to your closet to change.
“you know the one you really like, Adam Driver” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was jealous of your celebrity crush. You nodded and finished slipping on your shirt, slipping out of your shorts and looking for a nice pair of pants for your shirt. “He’s so sweet buck, I really think you should meet him!” You replied, shimmying into your pants and he rolled his eyes.
“what so I can see you drool over him in person? No thanks” he rolled his eyes, scrolling through his phone as an attempt to ignore you. You pouted and walked over to his side of the bed, leaning down and planting a kiss on his cheek. Bucky quickly grabbed you and put you on top of him, holding you in his arms tightly, his metal arm whirring slightly as his heart rate sped up at the thought of another guy flirting with you. Without thinking twice he turned to you, locking your lips together. You were shocked but quickly reciprocated the energy, letting out a small sigh as his hands wandered down your thighs. You pulled away, not wanting to be late.
“You know I love you honey, I’ll be back in a couple hours” smiling at him you gave him one last kiss before you grabbed your keys and hopped in your car, going to your photo shoot. Bucky furrowed his brows as he heard the door close, letting out a sigh.
As you arrived to the building for the photo shoot you smiled at the crew, saying good morning to everyone as you walked to where your makeup would be done. Adam has yet to arrive and you shit a quick message to bucky telling him you had arrived safely. He replied rather quickly, telling you how much he loved you and that he missed you already.
Adam arrived not long after your makeup finished and you smiled at him, making some small talk while everyone got in positions. “How’s the family?” You asked, he smiled at you and pushed his hair back, “they’re good yeah, how uh bucky?” He replied and you replied with a quick good, asking him where he had gotten moose since you had been wanting to surprise him with a dog.
“You know I could actually take you to the shelter, if you want obviously, it’s really nice” he offered as the photographers began to place you guys in your respective spots. “That’d be amazing actually, thanks man” you smiled, giving him a side hug before the photo shoot began.
By the time the shoot had ended the two of you were hungry and decided to go out for lunch on your way to the shelter. Of course with your luck, the two of you got caught trying to not get recognized and soon there were cameras everywhere and fans trying to get both of your attention. The two of you waved through the crowd and into Adams car, driving off in the direction of the shelter.
“Oh my god that was horrible, we just wanted a fucking sandwich” you groaned causing Adam to laugh. “Yeah that’s the worst part of it but it’s a package deal” he replied smiling softly. The two of you were nothing more than best friends, of course he knew he was your celebrity crush but after you met bucky no one else really mattered to you.
Once the two of you arrived at the shelter you thanked Adam for driving you, he offered to stay but you rejected it. “Go ahead and enjoy your family, we don’t always get short days like these” you smiled at him, he gave you a small hug before saying goodbye and driving off.
While you met numerous dogs and wanted to take them all, you wondered if bucky would like any of them. You knew he could get drained easily but he loved animals, he would always smile and ask to pet other peoples dogs. Was surprising him with one even a good idea?
Your train of thought was interrupted when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You saw it was bucky and quickly excused yourself so that he wouldn’t hear the barking dogs.
“hey baby what’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, where are you?” He spoke, his tone was cold and you felt a shiver go down your spine. “I can’t tell you” you replied, your palms sweating, what the hell were you gonna say? “Are you with him?” His voice was deeper now. “Y/N i sweat to god im gonna fucking beat the shit out of him if he even lays a finger on you” you heard rustling in the background and the sound of keys jingling. “Buck what? No why are you so mad?” You questioned, confused as to why he was suddenly about to strangle your favorite actor.
“Have you not seen any social media? The two of you were on a fucking date were you not” Bucky stopped in his tracks when you started laughing on the other line. “oh baby, i would do anything to see you right now” you sighed, a small smile on your face. “No angel, he was helping me out with something for you and we got hungry so we tried to get some lunch but before we could get anything there was paparazzi everywhere.”
Bucky stayed quiet, cursing himself for getting so worked up over nothing. He felt guilty for not trusting you, of course you wouldn’t do that to him. “Buck?” You spoke, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “I’m sorry doll face, i guess i just started over thinking because he’s always been your celebrity crush and I thought what if he asked you out and you left me because-” you cut him off before he could finish.
“James! I’m going home right now you better believe I’m going to smuther you with love, see you in like 20 minutes” you spoke, a smile on your face. “I can go pick you up if you wan-”
“NO! I mean, no I’m okay, i love you” you rushed out, ordering a ride from your phone, deciding to hold off on putting any four legged pals on hold for the two of you. When you arrived to your shared apartment you didn’t even think of trying to dust off the copious amount of dog hair on your pants, you rushed in, ready to question your favorite super soldier.
“Buck? Where’d you go?” You asked, slipping your shoes off and setting your keys in the small bowl the two of you had made together. As you lifted your eyes from the little bowl you saw bucky emerging from the living room. You smiled at him and threw yourself into his arms. He held you tightly and let out a shaky breath into your neck.
“‘M sorry doll” he whispered, you pulled away from the hug, looking at the tall man softly. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay baby” you whispered, taking his hand and leading him to the couch where the two of you sat down, he put his head on your chest and you played with some of his now short hair.
The two of you stayed like that, he just needed you to be there for him. You didn’t mind though, sitting with your favorite boy in the world on top of you was the only thing you wanted. Then he asked you the one question you dreaded.
“is this- are you covered in dog hair?” Bucky quickly got up from his position and plucked a hair from your pants. You looked at him, your mouth opening but nothing coming out, oh god. “I- see there was a dog! By the street?” You but your lip and groaning loudly.
“Doll?” Bucky asked you, a smile playing upon his lips as you looked at him, a smile breaking onto your face. “I went to the shelter, i was gonna surprise you with a dog but then I didn’t know what kind dog you’d want, or if you’d even want a dog and then you called all upset and so i just left and-” you cut yourself off, looking at your boyfriend.
He was looking at you with a small smile, adoration and love filling his eyes, the sight made you blush as you looked at him. “What?” You asked him, he only leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on your lips. You pulled a way, pink dusting your cheeks.
“Let’s go find a new member for this family yeah?” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you once again. You smiled into the kiss, when you pulled away you grabbed him by the hand, slipped your shoes on and practically ran out the door, barely realizing halfway to the car that you didn’t get the keys. Bucky quickly tossed them your way, he shook his head at you teasingly and you quickly rolled your eyes, unlocking the car and the two of you slipped in.
“I think you’re gonna love this one boy named Ace, he’s a sweetheart and loves giving kisses, god knows i can’t give you as many kisses as you’d want” you laughed, giddy as the two of you drive towards the shelter. Bucky was nervous, a good nervous.
This was a new chapter for the two of you, a step in the right direction for the soon to be Barnes family. His mind quickly flashed to the velvet box he had hidden at the back of his closet.
“Honey? Are you even listening?” You laughed at the now dazed man next to you. He turned to you and smiled, “of course i am, so Ace huh?” He smiled, taking in every one of your features, his heart swelling with love. He had so much love to give you, he couldn’t wait to be able to share that love with a furry friend.
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cottage-babe · 3 years
Text
Burning Scars part X
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whoops i missed two weeks of updating, sorry, concussion stuff :) im all good now tho so more! updating!
I changed the original story up a bit :)
Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?
___
Zuko’s been acting a little... weird lately. 
Well, let’s clarify something; Zuko always acts weird. But ever since the trio went into work that day, the boy had been on edge. 
Y/n was standing at the tea station, just leaning against the wall and spacing out. Iroh was beside her, humming a small tune as he prepared the next batch of tea. Then, the boy quickly walked up to them in panic. 
“Guys, we have a problem.” He said as he set the teacups he was holding onto the table. “One of the customers is on to us. Don't look now but there is a girl over there at the corner table.”
Y/n snapped out of her daydream and looked over to the person Zuko was talking about. It was a pretty girl; she had long dark hair pulled into two braids and a sappy smile on her face. Instantly Y/n knew that she wasn’t suspicious of anything. 
“Didn’t I say don’t look?!” Zuko whispered and dragged both of his companions arms to turn away. 
A laugh almost escaped Y/n’s mouth as she shared a look with Iroh. “You know Zuko, I think you’re right, I’ve seen her here a lot.”
The clueless teen nodded his head and furrowed his brows. 
“Seems to me she has quite a little crush on you.” Iroh laughed and went back to whatever it was that he was doing. 
Zuko let out a ‘what?’ and Y/n sighed in response. She had to keep reminding herself that she and the other boy were nothing remotely close to romantic. If anything was learned from last night, they were just friends; family, at most. And she was okay with that, honestly. She had so many issues with him that it probably wouldn’t even work out. But still, she couldn’t deny the fact the Zuko might’ve been the topic of her daydream just moments ago. 
Y/n resumed her position of leaning on the wall. She watched as the ‘mysterious’ girl walked up to the counter and began to talk to Zuko flirtatiously. The girl introduced herself as Jin and payed for her drink. 
“Thank you and ... well, I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime?” Jin asked with a hopeful gaze. 
Zuko paused in bewilderment and it almost made the poor girl regret her request. Y/n wasn’t going to butt in, she really wasn’t, but soon she decided that it was for the best. Maybe if she helped him get in a relationship, it would help her get over her slight (once again, very very slight) feelings over him. 
“He’d love to.” Y/n responded for Zuko. 
The boy looked around his shoulder and sent the wolf a questioning glare, but she just sent him a smile and turned to help Iroh make some tea.
My job here is done. 
Jin and Zuko talked a bit more and ended with her saying that she’d meet with him at sundown. That meant that for the rest of the day Zuko chatted nervously with Y/n and Iroh, giving off mixed feelings between ‘I don’t want to go’ and ‘should I dress nice?’. Y/n let Iroh do all the talking, she wasn’t too much of an expert in that area.
When she was in her pack, Y/n wasn’t exactly popular among the boys. They mainly drifted her to strong, beautiful sister and the girl wasn’t bothered by it too much. She had a few crushes here and there, but that was about it. Nothing was ever acted on. 
So hearing that this was Zuko’s first date relieved her to an extent; at least she wasn’t the only one who’d gone this long without being in a relationship. But there was the other part that nagged her a bit, the fact that Zuko was having his first date; with a stranger none the less. 
Quit all this feeling stuff, it’s getting annoying. 
Y/n may or may not have been giving Zuko a form of silent treatment for the day. If he ever asked her anything, she answered, but other than that, she never intimated any conversation. There wasn't any particular reason (lies), but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by her roommate.
"Hey, uhh.. if you don't think that I should go, I won't." Zuko said randomly on their break.
Y/n's eyes furrowed in confusion. "I literally answered her for you, Lee. If anyone is being hesitant, it should be you."
"So," he began. "Your not bothered? At all?"
There was this weird look in the boy's eyes, something of... Hope?
That's weird.
"Listen, if you need advise or something, Iroh will probably be your best bet." The werewolf laughed awkwardly.
He just sighed and went back to work.
When closing time was coming and there were hardly any customers left, Zuko and Iroh went to the backroom to prepare. Y/n didn’t really pay attention to what they were doing; she just assumed that they were cleaning up any dirty bits he picked up or making him smell better. 
That was why when Zuko walked out into the dining room with his hair slicked back ridiculously, Y/n couldn't hold back the snort that escaped her. Why would Iroh do this to him? Some revenge she didn’t know about or something?
Zuko glared at her and she just masked up her laughter as a cough. “You look great!” She even put a thumbs up to try an convince him of her lie.  He just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly opening the door of the restaurant. By that time, the few remaining people had filtered out and it was just the three of them. 
When the view of Jin came, even Y/n couldn’t hold back her gasp. 
The young girl was really quite beautiful. Her braid was fixed and she had a youthful enthusiasm to her features. It was a beautiful contrast to the adult life that Y/n and Zuko were thrown into. 
Jin’s eyes widened at the boys new look and laughed, saying something clever to him. Zuko just shut the door so his two roommates wouldn’t listen in on their conversation. 
“He’s growing up so fast,” Iroh jokingly sniffled and wiped a fake tear. 
Y/n laughed and nodded her head. I hope he’s nice to her. 
The werewolf turned and returned to the backroom so she could put her apron away. She assumed that Iroh was following, so she didn’t bother waiting. 
“So,” She began, “what should we do tonight?” Y/n began to wave her arms around dramatically. “Get some food? Watch a play?”
She was really looking forward to tonight. Now they didn’t have Zuko here constantly breathing down their necks (”We don’t have enough money for that!!” “Why buy that when you can buy this!” it got a little redundant at times). 
Iroh slid his apron off and chuckled. “Oh no no... I’m far too old to have fun at night.” 
Y/n deflated. To be fair, the sun hadn’t fully set yet. “I mean... I guess we could read at home?” 
He shook his head once more and turned toward the werewolf. “Just go have fun, meet new people. Don’t let someone like me slow you down!”
She pouted. Why does he think that time spent with him is wasted? She has plenty of fun hanging out with the sweet uncle! Y/n looked at his happy, aged face and observed his truthfulness. She knows that he just wants her to have fun, but still...
“Just go, Y/n, and I’ll see you back home tonight.” Iroh smiled. 
Y/n sighed, looking at Iroh one last time, before turning around and heading out the same door that Jin and Zuko left through. When the brisk air hit her, it felt different somehow. Maybe because this was her first time being out alone. She means this quite lightly, of course, but something about it still irked her. 
The sun was sorta bright out, but not much. 
It had set halfway, so the small beams were jutting out the tops of the building and the sky was painted the scene of fire. Oh, her and her love for sunsets. 
Y/n decided to pick a direction and walk. Honestly, in this part of the city, there weren’t many sights to see; everything interesting rested in the higher Rings since they could afford it. 
After a few minutes, the girl saw a stand selling sweets. She patted her pockets and brought out her tips from work. It wasn’t much, but definitely enough for the night. 
She paid for some iced treats; Popsicles of some kind. She wasn’t entirely sure which flavor to pick, so she went with her childish side and decided to buy two that she was interested in. 
As she continued her trip, Y/n stopped at a few places to watch things. Since night was approaching, shows were starting on random parts of the streets. People performed odd talents for money and it excited the girl; maybe she should do something like them, it seems fun. 
At some point, Y/n ended up at the entrance of a zoo. 
She was almost finished with the first ice cream in her grasp when she decided to enter the park. It seemed deserted and there was only one person at the front desk. 
“Umm, excuse me? Are you open?” Y/n asked since the worker was almost half asleep. 
The man jumped awake and looked around, startled. Then, his eyes landed on the girl’s curious figure. “Yes. Is it just you? Where’s your friends?”
Y/n pouted in response. “It’s just me, how much is it?”
She began to ruffle through her pockets, hoping that it was enough to see the animals, but the man waved a hand in the air.
“It’s fine, you can just go ahead. Just don’t feed the animals.” He said while looking suspiciously at the girl’s popsicles. 
Y/n nodded her head and smiled in thanks. Then, she went inside.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted to be here; it would be hard for her to see captive animals when she herself was one (well, not caged, but you get the point). Her pack elders had informed her of zoos and used it to scare the kid wolves so they wouldn’t go and try to find humans. Of course, that never worked on Y/n and her siblings. She honestly just thought that it was fake up until this point. 
The werewolf walked around to each cell to observe the animals. It almost made her cry; they all just looked so lonely. Y/n couldn’t imagine how trapped they must feel in this small cage; a part of her was happy that she wasn’t in that situation, though. 
“They all look so sad.” 
Y/n turned around and was met with a young boy, possibly about twelve years old. He was bald with a blue arrow tattooed across his forehead and arms and held a long stick in his hands. The orange of his clothing made him standout against the dreary greys of the zoo. 
The girl looked at the animal across from them. It was a Rabaroo, an animal with long ears and bouncy legs. Y/n could hear small chirps coming from the pouch in her front, but she decided not to say anything. 
“She’s really hungry too, I can tell.” Y/n said as she walked up closer to the cage. 
The poor animal was almost pleading for help. She had a thought that the Rabaroo knew what she was, a predator, but still asked for help. These animals must be really desperate. 
The boy joined her. “I wish there was something I could do, but I’m not sure how to help.”
Y/n nodded her head in agreement. When she got this feeling in the past (before they entered Ba Sing Se with their Ostrich-Horses), she found a solution; to just let them go and be free. Now, however, she just felt helpless.
Instead, she just looked at the boy and held out the other ice treat in her hand. “Do you want one? I can’t finish both.”
He got a childish excitement in his eyes and grabbed the treat. Y/n smiled back at him, maybe something good can come from today. 
“I’m Aang, I’m looking for my lost Sky Bison.” Aang said as he began licking to Popsicle. 
“Y/n,” she introduced herself while thinking, what the Spirits is a Sky Bison? “I'm just wandering the city; thinking."
“Really?” He asked. “What are you thinking about?”
What was she thinking about?
There’s so much that should be on her mind right now; her future, how her family’s doing, how she’s doing, but for some reason the only thing that’s been scattered around her brain recently was Zuko. Something about him just seemed so.. spirits, she couldn’t even find the word for it. But it seemed like she was seeing him differently now.
“Oh, you're still here?"
Y/n and Aang turned to the voice that spoke. It belonged to the man at the front desk, the one that let her in for free.
"Do you know what's wrong with the animals?" Aang asked the owner, ignoring the rude phrase that he said.
"Well, the Dai Li won't give me any money because the kids stopped coming. And the kids won't come because my zoo's nasty and broke." The owner sighed. "I wish I could give all these animals the big, open space that they need."
Y/n frowned. He must have really good intentions, it's just the situation that makes him seem bad.
She met eyes with the younger boy to her side and was surprised to see the... Joy?
"Let's do it!" Aang yelled out, surprising both people beside him. "There's a big open space right outside the walls of the city!"
"But how do we transport them?" Y/n asked.
She was totally on board with the idea, it's just that it seemed a little... Impulsive. But she was talking to a child, though, and they always have such big ideas.
"Oh I'm really good with animals." The boy smiled. "Do you want to help me?"
The werewolf paused, thinking that maybe she shouldn't get involved in this event. But one look at the poor Rabaroo peering up at her with it's wide eyes made her cave in.
"You know... I'm pretty good with animals too."
--
She was not as good as she thought she was.
Aang and Y/n separated because they needed to find a way to calm the wild animals running loose. The boy (spirits bless him) thought it was a fantastic idea to let all of the animals go at once; from the biggest animals to the smallest rats. It was wild.
And so here the werewolf was, chasing down a pair of Raccoon-Crows. Since the sun had set long ago, there weren’t a lot of people out. Most who enjoyed the liveliness of the night has had their fun and returned to the welcoming embrace of their beds. Oh, if only I stayed home to sleep.
“Get back here!” Y/n yelled as the birds flew off once again.
They seemed to look at her with a mischievous gleam in their eyes; waiting for her to get close before bolting off once again. It was getting very annoying.
She didn’t regret helping the young boy, especially since she might’ve gained a friend out of this. She only regretted not coming up with a better plan; or at least to wait until morning.
��AHHH!” A voice screamed off in the distance.
Y/n groaned and turned toward the yell, knowing that some animal was probably attacking some random citizen. What she didn’t expect though, was to run face first into Zuko and Jin’s date.
Jin had a hog-monkey climbing on her dress and Zuko was in full panic mode. He tried to help her push the animal off, but it seemed to have a steel grip on her. Luckily, they were alone in some fire lit plaza.
Y/n felt really awkward, especially with how private the area was. What would they need privacy for? She quickly pushed that out of her head though and whistled loudly to catch the Monkey’s attention.
The animal and the two teens looked at her in surprise. Y/n took out a treat that the Zoo Keeper had given her and waved it to catch the eyes of the Hog-Monkey. When it loosened it’s grip, she threw it as far as she could away from the group. Luckily, it jumped away in excitement.
“Y/n?!” Zuko exclaimed. Sighing in defeat, the werewolf slowly joined the duo.
Jin was still slightly frightened and was grasped onto the boy’s arm. Y/n pretended not to see it.
“Hey Lee. Fancy seeing you here?” She tried miserably as she scrunched her face up in discomfort. Maybe they’ll be able to cut this conversation short.
“Why aren’t you back home with Uncle?” Zuko said as his eyebrows squished together in anger. “What are you even doing out here?”
“I decided to go out too,” she explained quickly, “but listen, I met this boy and we’r-”
“A boy?!” He seemed to be fuming now. “You can’t just go around talking to random people.”
This made the werewolf (and Jin, but we’re kinda ignoring the sweet girl for a moment) raise her eyebrow in disbelief. He’s really out here, scolding her for making friends when he’s on a date with some girl he’s never met before. Does he ever think before he speaks?
“I-” Y/n paused and took a deep breath to calm herself. “You know what? We’ll talk about this later. I think we’re both busy at the moment.” 
Zuko glanced at his date and the werewolf used that distraction as an excuse to leave. She ran off in the direction of the Hog-Monkey, hoping that it hadn’t run too far and purposefully ignored the boy who yelled in protest behind her. Stupid Zuko and his stupid anger issues. 
When she got far enough, she slowed to a walk and looked around. The monkey must’ve gotten away because it was nowhere in sight. 
“Hog-Monkey.... c’mere monkey, I have treats.” Y/n spoke loudly out into the dark streets of Ba Sing Se. 
She hoped that the animal would hear her words and come barreling toward her, but she was only greeted with silence except for the soft footsteps coming from a lady walking down the street. Besides for the lady, the entire street was empty and no other animal was in sight. 
That was when she heard it. 
A high pitched ringing noise that rattled her bones and made her brain shrink in protest. It was louder than anything she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t the noise that was painful, no no, it was the feeling of being ripped apart that did. 
The noise, for some reason, caused the werewolf in Y/n to go absolutely crazy. It was fighting the girl; desperately trying to shift into its natural skin so it could run toward the ringing. 
Y/n hunched herself over and groaned out in pain. She looked at her hands and saw it shifting between claws and human hands; she could only imagine what the rest of her body was doing. 
“Are you alright, sweetie?” 
The transforming-girl looked up to meet the eyes of the lady who was on the street. Her eyes were filled with worry, but slowly changed into something of fear.
Before the werewolf could do something to hurt the kind woman, Y/n bolted down an empty alley. Spirits, what is happening to me?
She leaned against the dirty wall and tried to catch her breath, but her wolf just kept clawing at her, desperately trying to escape. She punched the wall, leaving a fist-sized dent (her mind just brushed it off as her wolf power, but that was weird, right?). Then, while the ringing noise still blasted through her ears, she felt her snout slowly grow out of her face; a growl of effort roaring through the alleyway. 
The young girl wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she control herself right now? She was used to the pain of transforming, she had done it all of her life, but she’d never experienced the pain of her two natures battling. It was something entirely different.
The seconds that were passing seemed like hours.
All she could think was, when will the ringing stop?
Soon, she didn’t have the power to hold it back anymore. Her human body was weak and she hated herself for it. She let her werewolf grow into its natural size, towering above her normal height. She felt her clothing rip until it was just strips of fabric on on the floor. 
The ringing stopped, but her wild mind remembered where the sound came from and began its run there. 
Fortunately (although, its also very unfortunate), her journey was ended when something sharp pierced through the skin on her neck. Her dark eyes jumped around until it landed on the fearful lady from the street shaking beside a group of men.  
Y/n felt a sudden drowsiness come over her and her large body fell limp to the floor despite it’s fighting. Just before the unconsciousness came over her, though, the green circle on the men’s chest became prominent in the moonlight.
Then, her world went dark.
__
Dai Lee >:(
also Aang’s whistle thing >:(
 i know that this is a VERY slow burn, but maybe some... couple-y stuff in the next few chapters? we’ll see ;)
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Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie @ohmigooosh
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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years
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Oooooh I am very much looking forward to seeing this B and Demetri and Connor dynamic!
“Hey Manning, I almost thought you wouldn’t show… Oh you brought the dog.”
An eye roll but the handler kept his smile in place. 
“He still looks like a handful, he’d eat this little one alive.” A  gentle tug and Demetri moved obediently to stand in front of the handler with his head still bowed.
Connor turned, keeping one arm tightly around B. 
 "Yeah, he goes everywhere I go, now. You think I want to be in that hotel bed by myself? Show me the stray." 
 When Demetri moved out in front, Connor blinked with no particular memory sparking. He'd seen a lot of pets come through before he quit. "Oh, okay. This is him? He's pretty."
When B saw who was waiting from them he couldn't have been happier to be there. "Demetri!" He gasped, wiggling out of Connor's tight grip on him to rush forward and slam his hands on the desk. His eyes tracked the hands on his dear friends' back and he growled and curled his top lip to bare his silver canines. "Let 'im go... Right now."
The handler recoiled and unconsciously yanked Demetri back with him, startling the blond into looking up. 
There was a vague recognition of the name that felt almost like his own but drifted too far out of reach to grasp. He stayed pressed to the handler for a long moment before a faint smile cracked through his panicked expression.
 He could hardly believe his luck of who had come to save him. 
 He could never forget B’s face, the only kind face he had known for years and had been grieving the loss of for too long. 
After a moment of stunned but elated staring he squirmed away from the handler, no longer needing the man’s reassurance. 
 Demetri skirted round the desk and launched himself at B with all the strength he could muster, clinging on to the familiar source of comfort without concern for the other two men watching the display. He hissed through his teeth when he bumped the sliced up brand against B but still refused to let go. He was terrified if he let go it wouldn’t be real anymore. He would still be on the street lost and afraid.
Connor stared blankly at B as he ran forward. 
He barely had time to open his mouth to order him to drop the aggression before the hot little blond had jumped forwards too, and the two pets were holding each other. "What the fuck...?" He blinked rapidly, then looked at the other handler and gave a shrug. 
 "Hey." He gave a quick, low whistle to get B's attention. "You know 'im, baby?"
B couldn't believe it, sure that he was dreaming and he'd be woken up by a soft touch on his shoulder and be back in the truck again. "I... How?" 
His words stuck in his throat, his chest swelling with light as he caught the boy flinging himself onto him. He held him tightly, rocking him from side to side like he used to do and tucking Demetri's head under his chin. 
 At the sound of the whistle B looked up, eyes glossy and a smile splitting across his face. "Yes! Yes, sir! This... This is Demetri... He was... He was Mister Rossi's pet..." He said, feeling the tension in the other and the pained hiss. 
 "W-Wait... You're hurt..." He murmured, gently pulling him back to look at Demetri's chest. "Oh..." He noticed the blood staining through his shirt. "Oh ... isn't that... Hey... Dem-... Pretty? You alrigh', lad?"
The handler behind the desk couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping, everyone had heard rumours that Rossi’s pet had been run through the system but of course his links to WRU were very hushed up. 
 “Fuck.. that’s Rossi’s pet? Shit, we probably need to let someone know, who was his primary? They’ll know how to reach him.” 
 Demetri let all of the distress from the moment Rossi had dropped him on the street drain out of his body. B was safe, B could protect him. He glanced at the man who had whistled, the dark hair and eyes were disturbingly similar to Rossi but this one seemed less of a threat. 
 There wasn’t a response until B used the correct name and Demetri glanced down at the spotting on the pale grey shirt, staining the fabric. He tugged the neckline down and exposed the damaged brand, it was bleeding a little from slamming into B with such eagerness but was obviously deliberately done. “It’s... it’s fine... I was good, I didn’t move I swear.”
"Oh, Jesus fuck, not those assholes," Connor muttered, feeling a drop in his stomach. B was so excited, he'd be heartbroken when Rossi showed back up to take his pet back- 
 Then Demetri pulled back enough to pull down the neckline of his shirt and Connor's eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. He held up a hand. "Gonna guess you don't need to call Rossi," He said to the other handler, moving closer to take a better look, leaning over with one hand on B's back, casually possessive. "Look at that. That's not amateur work and it wasn't done mad. Bet you fifty bucks Rossi did that himself."
B blinked, struck by the horror of what had happened to his friend. And fury at Rossi. He had never been good to him unless it had served him a purpose. And he used him and hurt him. 
Demetri had been changed by this place as much as he was. Because of him. 
 "It was him..." B said lowly, leaning instinctively into the touch on his back and looking at Connor. "He ... He hurt him. He can't go back to him, sir." B's voice cracked slightly, trembling slightly as he carefully angled Demetri so he could hold him without pushing into the wound. "Please... Connor. He needs to come home with us."
Demetri laid his head on B’s shoulder, offering up a smile to the man who was now close to them. If B trusted him then this man, whose face Demetri was still trying to place, he would have blind allegiance without question from Demetri. 
The handler had shifted around the desk to get a better look, a small piece of scarring was untouched, the only suggestion there had been a brand under all the slices. “Shit, they’re always so much harder to sell on with this kind of damage. I’ll have to see if anyone has space for a refurb this week before he gets a fucking infection..” 
Even with the dog cradling the blond so possessively, the handler never expected that Connor would want to take on more damaged goods.
Connor had a reputation for how he dealt with pets, he couldn’t possibly want this emotionally fragile little wisp of a pet. 
 Demetri lifted his hand and gently traced over B’s chest, the firm planes of muscle just as he remembered them. Capable of so much damage while only ever trying to protect him. His voice was a low wistful murmur. “I missed you B... I wanted you to come home.”
Connor frowned, watching the two pets together. B was always gentle as a lamb with other pets, whether it was Socks or when he was in the Facility training. And B so rarely asked for a single thing for himself - he just took what Connor gave him with gratitude and adoration. 
But he was asking for this. 
Connor moved forward, taking Demetri's chin in his thumb and fingers to tilt it up and look at him, at his eyes. 
 "Baby," He said to B while looking Demetri over, "Baby, I am not a halfway house for stray pets. I can't just bring home every pretty thing that catches your eye..."
B kept his arms tightly wrapped around Demetri, allowing him to touch his chest. His own brand still stung from time to time. But Connor had transformed it. And he hadn't cast him aside when he did. 
 "Missed you too... I missed you so much... I'm sorry..." He rumbled, burying his face into Demetri's hair. He swallowed the lump in his throat, loosening his grip slightly to allow his owner to look over Demetri. 
 He crushed down the urge to smack Connor's hands off him. Connor was kind. Connor wouldn't hurt him. 
"He's... He's not just Pretty..." B murmured. "He's Demetri... He's my ... my friend... I... I love him very much, sir. He needs to be with us... He can be good for you too. He's very good."
Demetri tipped his head with the slightest pressure from Connor, turning his face until he met the man’s dark eyes. There was no hiding his enjoyment at even the barest of contact, the gentleness was what he craved. 
 The handler scoffed from a few feet away, he was still wary of the dog. He had heard about the state of the rookies after a tangle with it and now it had something to guard. But Manning had a point, surely here wasn’t going to let his dog tell him what to do. 
 “You’re not running a charity Manning, don’t want people to talk. The boy’s got Romantic training, the clinic can clean up the wounds and he’ll be on his knees for some cheapskate client in a week or two. He is very pretty..” 
 Demetri couldn’t hide the fear that shone in his eyes, he was supposed to be for Rossi. He should go back to Rossi... but they were talking like Rossi didn’t want him... like he wasn’t good enough. 
He prayed he could stay with B, not daring to want it yet, he could at least understand Connor was in control. Teeth caught his lower lip, his head tipped to the most attractive angle as he all but batted his eyelashes up at Connor. Classic Romantic look, perfected to be irresistible, combined with the low needy whine, most people caved and gave him some attention at that point.
Connor bristled a little at B pushing him in front of the other handler. While technically he wasn't one anymore, he still sure as fuck didn't like the idea of someone looking down on him for being pet-whipped. 
Some owners got that way, spoiling the shit out of their pets and treating them like real people, and Connor had mocked plenty of those in his time. He definitely didn't want to invite the same mockery from the other handler. 
 "Baby, I think I decide what we need in my house, yeah?" His voice was still mostly gentle, but there was an edge of irritation, a warning there. He'd never really hurt B beyond the bedroom - and they did plenty of that, which was perfect and B did so well - but a couple of days barred from petting Socks or the barn cats usually did the trick for discipline. 
 He watched Demetri tilt his head just the right way, blinking at him. "Yeah, he was definitely one of ours. Rossi's pet..." His voice trailed, off, turning Demetri's head to the side, catching faint scarring along his jaw. "Wait, didn't I fuck you once?"
B swallowed thickly, chest tightening at the edge to Connor's voice. He bowed his head hastily. "Yessir... M'sorry, sir... I'm... I just... I thought we could..." He mumbled, heat spreading across his cheeks. 
He had forgotten his place. He wasn't allowed to want things. That wasn't his place at all. 
 He took a small step back, keeping his head lowered reverently.
Demetri still felt the little flutter of panic when people caught sight of the scars. If you aren’t Pretty what’s the point in keeping you around? 
At least Connor didn’t seem put off by them, in fact his words reached into the blond’s scrambled brain and plucked out a memory with shocking clarity. He grinned, a warm natural expression rather than one designed to entice. “Asshole number two...” 
Flickers of shared food, kneeling for the man, the heated mat and a few hours reprieve danced through his mind, they didn’t linger but he knew enough to know this was one of the nice ones. His attention turned back to B who was visibly distressed. 
Without hesitation Demetri was nuzzling his cheek and sliding his hands under B’s shirt. His usual conflict resolution skills kicked in without a second thought, he needed to make B happy, he needed to be good. 
“Shit, are you taking him or not? I would really rather avoid the paperwork and not have him fuck your dog in the lobby.” The handler just needed to wash his hands of this. Rossi was trouble and he needed to avoid that if he wanted to get taken off of desk duty.
Connor took a deep breath, watching the embarrassment and sadness on his dog's face, and then audibly groaned, putting a hand up over his face. Jesus, if B turned on the fucking waterworks he'd be totally lost, right in front of the other handler. 
 "Yeah, fuck. Yeah. Damn it. Baby, you know I hate when you-... fuck." 
Connor sighed and waved his hand at the handler. "Yeah, fine, okay. Just... just whatever means we don't have to call that piece of shit two-bit mob boss." 
 He took Demetri by one arm, pulling him closer to himself and slightly away from B. 
 "This is not because you made your sad face at me, sweetness. It is not. Now come on, we're going outside to figure this shit out a little bit and get you two out of the lobby before someone calls the cops for public indecency." He moved towards the door, pulling Demetri with him, trusting B to fall in as well without even a glance back.
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miss-tc-nova · 3 years
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Ursine Ire - Hermod x Fem!Reader
I’ve been dying to do something with Hermod and his temper, so here it is! And I think I’ve finally got my chaos in check for a while, so hopefully I can get another fic or two out before Christmas rolls around. Also, sorry this one feels a little more straightforward than most of my stuff. 
~~~~~
              I’m late! I’m so late! They’re gonna kill me!
              Feet hit the stone path as fast as I can manage without blindly running into innocent bystanders—though there were a few close calls.
              Today, my friends and I are off to see a production Vor and Urd have been demanding we all attend—I was supposed to meet them half an hour ago. Now I’m racing like a rabbit from a dog praying I don’t have to face the wrath of the female wielders.
              Rounding a corner, my heart, just like my foot, skips when I nearly collide with the crowd I’ve let down.
              An outstretched arm intercepts me before I can crash. “Woah! Slow down!”
              Hermod, my boyfriend and the reason I have a great group of new friends, pulls me upright. Steadied by my grip on his haori, I heave so hard my lungs might just fall on the concrete.
              “And here we thought you’d forgotten,” teases the red-head. When I can’t stop gasping, Bragi tacks on, “Geeze, I thought Eraqus was Tardy Fleetfoot.”
              Said ‘Fleetfoot’ leans down. “Are you okay?”
              One more breath gives me my voice back. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I was reading a book and I lost track of time! When I looked at the clock, I freaked out and ran all the way here! I’m so sorry!”
              Soft chuckling brings my attention to the young man with an arm still around me. “It’s alright. We’ve still got some time,” he chuckles. A dip of his head connects his lips to my forehead, washing over that anxiety with a sweet serenity.
              “Cut it out, you two,” Urd insists, clearly not pleased by my tardiness. My boyfriend leans back, still happy but with a tad bit of sheepish mixed in. “That time we have is not enough for you to make out. If we don’t get going, we’ll miss the show.”
              “It might already be sold out!” little blond Vor exclaims.
              “Then let’s get a move on,” urges the boy in black.
              The group agrees and scampers through the streets towards the theater. When we get there, we see the mass of people shuffling into the stadium.
              “Okay, Vor and I will get the tickets,” insists the taller girl, holding her hand out expectantly.
              The boys rifle through pockets, but when I notice Hermod doing the same, I take his sleeve.
              “I’m paying this time,” I say.
              “Oh, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”
              “I don’t care if you mind. You paid for the last date; it’s my turn.” His mouth opens to argue. “Don’t make me ask nicely.”
              As it so happens, my asking Hermod ‘nicely’ is actually giving him the best puppy eyes I can, letting my bottom lip slip forward just a little, and saying please. My poor teddy bear has yet to refine any resistance to this technique. Due to this unfair trump card, I reserve it for dire occasions but sometimes just its mention is enough to tilt things in my favor.
              Shoulders slouch. “Fine.”
              Victoriously smiling, I place a peck against his cheek and scurry after the girls. As we chat, a peculiar couple comes up behind us. The woman tears into the man about them not showing up on time—I kind of feel sorry for him. Even so, their conflict is so unbearably awkward that it completely silences the light-hearted conversation we’d been having. There’s only a single person in front of us, but they cannot move fast enough to get us away from this disaster. Thankfully, after Urd gets her batch of tickets, the man sends the woman away, leaving the queue in an uncomfortable silence.
              Vor grabs hers next and bustles away while I quickly purchase mine. About halfway between the ticket booth and my friends, a hand takes my shoulder: it’s the man.
              “Uh…can I help you?” I ask, disquiet quickly simmering in my gut.
              “Yeah, actually, you bought the last two tickets. Mind if I take them?” There’s not even a trace of politeness in his words—it’s more like a statement than a request.
              Eyes dart to the group gossiping not that far away. I point in their direction. “Actually, I’m here to see the show with my friends. Sorry.”
              Anger rivaling the woman’s snaps into place. “So what. They can tell you about it later. Give me those tickets!”
              Not exactly a fighter myself, I step back. As I do, he reaches for me.
              A flash of green swipes up, swatting the grasping hand away. My boyfriend has come to save me with suspicion written across his face.
              “Is there a problem here?”
              “It’s none of your business,” growls the man.
              Slate eyes turn on me and I tell him, “He wants our tickets.”
              “And you paid for them?” I nod. Ever polite, the young man says, “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t have our tickets. Please excuse us.” He turns back to me. “Come on. The show’s starting.”
              Relief takes over too soon when a fist appears around my wrist. So tight is the grasp that my hand quavers and I’m certain there will be bruising. This sudden spike of pain draws a yelp from my mouth that the heckler doesn’t acknowledge as he jerks me closer.
              In the next instant, I’m free. In the same manner, a hand crushes the thug’s wrist. An existential dread rolls over me and the man seems to realize he’s made a mistake.  
              I’ve always described my soft Hermod as a bear: he’s the biggest sweetheart, always looking out for me, and as cuddly as one might expect. However, another reason my brain thinks of a bear when concerning my boyfriend is his rage. He has a saintly patience; it takes something truly serious to push him to anger—something like assaulting his girlfriend—and when he reaches that point, he is terrifying. I’ve only ever seen this one other time when he was having a truly miserable day. He apologized afterwards but I will never forget the fury he exhumed, almost as if he were another person. He is the embodiment of a bear, anger and all.
              “Hermod!” Vor shouts.
              “Hold on there, Brother Bear!” Bragi appears and places a hand on the threatening arm.
              “How dare you,” Hermod snarls lowly, ignoring his friends. Barely veiled violence hides in his eyes. “She is under no obligation to give you anything and her refusal to do so gives you no right to put your hands on her.” I see his grip tighten, bringing the assailant to his knees. “Now apologize.”
              There’s resistance but a further constricting grip accompanied by bared teeth coerce a response. “S-Sorry!”
              Hermod’s hold releases, signaling that his uncertain classmates can relax.
              “You’d do well to learn some manners,” growls the irate boy. With that, an arm gently ushers me away from the scene. Every bit of that tense anger can be felt in his shielding arm. Anxiety bubbles in my chest but I follow without fuss.
              Only a few steps away and the man shows us he’s learned nothing. A boot to the back of my knee messes up my balance. My elbow scrapes across the ground though I’m far more concerned with the ensuing roar. Peering back reveals a frenzied Hermod swinging his keyblade. The weapon strikes the man hard enough to send him across the clearing into a brick wall where he crumples to the ground. Only three straining boys stop the young man from resuming his rampage.
              “DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR HER AGAIN!” My jaw drops—I’ve never heard Hermod utter a single curse word in all our time dating, even on his worst days.
              The girls dash for the downed man. Urd exclaims, “He’s out cold!”
              “I WILL DESTROY YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”
              “He can’t hear anything!” Xehanort shouts.
              “You got ‘im!” adds Bragi. “He’s done!”
              Their words fall on deaf ears as the fight to get at his foe floods Hermod’s mind. It’s frightening, far worse than the last time I saw him like this. If the others let him go, who knows what he’d do to that man—I can’t even guarantee murder would be off the table.
              As I watch the struggle, his name barely escapes my mouth. “Hermod.”
              Nothing changes; he’s still fighting—fighting to defend me.
              This is for me…
              Shoving off the ground, I rush to help the boys. Fists snag handfuls of the haori and push against his chest.
              “Hermod, stop! Please!”
              It all freezes; only heavy pants from the four boys breaks the silence. Almost afraid of what I might find, I peek up at my boyfriend’s face—it’s blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. I don’t know if this makes me relieved or worried.
              Vor breaks the silence with an announcement. “Guys, he might need a doctor.”
              The wary boys release their classmate and Xehanort leans towards Bragi. “We’ll take care of the moron; you get these two someplace they can calm down.”
              “Good plan.” A palm to the chest pushes the impassive boy back. “Alright Brother Bear, let’s get outta here. You too, chickadee, come on.”
              Bragi steers the two of us down the street away from the mess we left. Silence stirs the distress I’d been boiling throughout the ordeal; I’m unable to stop ruminating on images of that fury.
              At the student dorms where the keyblade wielders train, our chaperone branches off. He leaves us in the entrance hall, still stifled in quiet, but returns rather quickly.
              “Yo, Hermod.” He shoves a box into the taller boy’s arms. “You might wanna patch up your girlfriend.”
              A light finally sparks in his eyes and Hermod turns on me. “Are you okay?”
              This is my Hermod and it’s almost alarming how this gentle giant could turn into something so vicious.
              “Yeah,” I mumble.
              That pain adds to my uncertainty, but it all goes out the window when my feet leave the ground. Too stunned to do anything about it, I let Hermod carry me through the halls of the student dorms; I do, however, flinch when his door flies open and closes with another slam. Hermod’s back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor, still clinging to me.
              “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my shoulder.
              It takes a moment to gather my words. “That…That was pretty scary,” I whisper back.
              “I know and you deserve to be mad at me. I was out of line and I wasn’t thinking, but when he…”
              I already know why it happened, not that it makes it any better. Still, Hermod’s actions were for my sake; I don’t condone what he did but that man made it clear he wasn’t giving up without a fight. My boyfriend was protecting me.
              “Thank you.” Those slate eyes give me a perturbed look. I let the corners of my mouth turn up. “For sticking up for me.”
              Gods, I wanted to make him feel better, not add to that misery. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
              “I know.” I brush the hair from his face. “You’re such a sweetheart. But maybe next time we don’t knock someone unconscious with our keyblade.”
              He let’s a guilty sigh escape him, dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
              A finger leads his gaze back to me. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
              Again, his face hides against me. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing him back, I take his face in my hands and raise a brow; he gets the hint. “But I forgive you.”
              “I love you, Hermod,” I say, running circles across his cheeks with my thumbs.
              There’s the smile I’ve been looking for. “I love you too.”
              Content with the response, I kiss him. It’s short but oh so sweet—they always are with Hermod. I’d spend hours on end kissing him if there weren’t other matters to attend to.
              “Hermod?”
              “Hmm?” It’s a dreamy, peaceful sort of hum.
              “Who taught you the F word?” My accusations are mostly in jest but the results are perfectly entertaining. My gentle teddy bear bursts into a blush and begins stammering like a fool. “It was Bragi, wasn’t it?”
              “I—I—you—wh—”
              “I’m only teasing,” I sing, pinching at his cheeks. “Now fix my elbow please.”
              This vexed sigh comes with an adoring smile as he reaches for the first aid kit.
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jackalopefreckles · 3 years
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I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.
A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours
my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)
I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.
My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.
They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.
I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.
I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.
My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.
Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.
I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.
It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.
I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.
Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.
I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.
I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)
Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??
Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos
My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)
I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how
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Live 2020 debate commentary from a salty, disabled, and VERY pissed gen Z
 Yall he just said he’s immune
My dad just left the room
Bitch are u saying Johnson and Johnson is going to make the vaccine?
sir that’s the diaper company…..smh
Biden just said its going to be a dark winter
#winter is coming
“virus.....that came from china” -trump 2020
“were learning to live with it”-trump 2020
apparently “Biden lives in his basement”-your president 2020
totally accurate.....obviously
ohhhh biden just said were learning to die with it
trump interrupted biden
Mam I thought you said you were muting them?
biden laugh count at 3
he all about the once percent till its the dead ones
trump interrupting at 3...nvm its now 4
this debate is making my dog sad
interrupting now at 5 for trump
trump saying his young sons illness just “went away”
bitch he’s may age and no it did not just “go away”
he was in quarantine for two weeks
apparently nyc is a ghost town 
its not a ghost town trump I live right next to it
loudest neighbors ever
trump don’t call him Anthony
his name is DOCTOR Fauci
treat him with the respect he deserves
Biden looks so sad
nvm he legit looks like the joker right now
HALFWAY MARKKK
why is this at 9?
sir its a school night
I need time to scroll through my feed for hours before collapsing
Biden don’t use the word sovereignty
trump doesn't know what it means
thats discrimination against trumps
ohhh hes attacking hunter (biden) again
so he has a wee drug problem?
at this point everyone got one!
your the one making lewd comments about your infant daughter on national tv
(look it up he talks about his 6 month old daughters legs but and breasts)
get him big b!!
h876689908776- my dog 2020
he wants to express his disappointment
the light boxs is stealing his mother attention
ohh hes being rude to the moderator again
u a strong independent Indian woman get him girll!
mute his mike
prty plz
I am dissapionted in you
he’s saying he’s not allowed to release his taxs
(that is a proven lie)
“i was put through a phony witch hunt”- you'll never guess 2020
hes going after his BROTHER now
how is this allowed?
who decided trumps strategy would be to accuse his opponent of his own crimes?
look at the insults guys its a crystal ball
stay ahead of the scandal's
WILL YOU LEAVE HIS SON ALONE PLEASE
THESE ARE HIS CHILDREN LEAVE THEM ALONE
“i was a business man doing business”-trump 2020
no sir you were another rich white guy taking advantage of tax brakes and cheap foreign labor in asia
#american jobs as long as i don’t have to pay minimum wage
#you know like a DECENT FUCKING PERSON
Trump interrupted again
I lost count a while ago
Biden is staring into my soul
oh Biden just played the middle class childhood card
I haven't heard a single mute so far?
trump just said his bromance with kim jung un saved america from nuclear war
dont through my boy Obama under the bus
and another interruption
my big bro just screamed “MUTE BUTTON MUTE BUTTON MUTE BUTTON”
honestly same
10 more min guys
hang in there
OHHH trump just got MUTEDDDDDD
Biden is now on legitimate policy 
ahhh hes proud of his plan
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annd trump just interrupted
trump just kissed up to the moderator
trump just said biden’s more liberal than bernie
ohhh
biden just said trump dosent know who hes running against
hes like “this is joe biden”
like I know bro but slick burn anyway
ohhh they muted trump again!!!!
perfect opportunity to mute missed
trump just blamed healthcare issues on nancy peloski
biden says the the republicans wont pass it
(btw hes actualy right)
2 mins left
and trump is speaking through it
1 min left
omg what a waste of air
I really want him to test his “immunity”
preferably during a harsh winter
ITS TEN GUYSSS
there running over
they still haven't covered immigration
shit
I have just learned there is 30 min left
I think I would rather kill myself than watch the rest of this
I’m seriously have a sensory overload right now
I’m doing this for u
“children are brought here by coyotes”-presedentail cown 2020
what a wack ass sentence
hes like ohIi haven't been putting kids in cages
and then just went but I didn't build them they were built in 2014
(contradiction much)
“who built the cages”
“who built the cages”
“who built the cages”
yes it was Obama but guess what
THEY WERNT BUILT FOR KIDS
there ment to house animals, evidence, and adult prisoners in emergency situations
THEY WERNT MENT FOR 3 YEAR OLDS
Biden was just like “well no actually kids come with PARENTS”
(kids hardly ever come over with out parents)
and then he was like and also WHO LOST TRACK OF OVER 1,000 PARENTS
(thats 500+ new orphans at the least)
hes saying only the illegal immigrants with the lowest IQs come back after being deported
we said the same thing in december about you but ya’know
my mum was like “anyone eating chocolate” and I was like “im snaking on this ignorance” and she was like “dont do that you'll get indigestion”
“no one has done more for the black community then Donald trump except for maybe Abraham Lincoln”
oh yeah Biden just brought up how trump publicly campaigned for the execution of the central park 5
WHO WERE CHILDREN
AND OH YEAH THEY WERE COMPLETELY INNOCENT
trump just yelled at Biden, got muted, and just yelled louder
trump just said he cant see the audience but hes the least racist person in the room
“Abraham lincoln here is one of the most racist presidents in american history”- biden 2020
biden just went “oh god”
he just said that he used to not support the blm movement because they chanted rude things about police officers
I would like to reiterate that “pigs in a blanket” has never been chanted in a protest or been a prominent statement in the blm movement nor “fry em like bacon” so what trump is saying is factually incorrect
unless hes on some sort of far right conservative twitter feed were he came across a video of some drunk white college kids chanting it 
but you know what ever fits you narrative
plus I would be pretty pissed if I kept getting shot at for no reason so....
Biden making more logical decisions
trump was like why have you never done all this stuff when you were vice president
“we had a republican congress” -biden 2020
we have the cleanest air
we have the cleanest crystal clear water
sir, i know you've been to mexico
don’t lie
the waters gorges down there
and not owned by your smug ass
trump just called china filthy
so you know....
*whispers* racism
ok 5 min left
for real this time
trump just went “aoc plus 3: and then hes like she knows nothing about the climate
ummm.... you dont even believe in climate change
bidens like “are....is...is is”
good for you
correcting your grammar
trump just said “the wind kills all the birds” out of the godamn blue
(he means wind mills and its untrue)
“Whats the next question baba”
“the final question is leadership which he doesnt have”- baba 2020
I feel bad for anybody watching this on the toilet
bidens starring into your soul
he knows what your doing
there officially overtime
its 10 33
they haven't even done the last section yet
btw ITS A SCHOOL NIGHT
why do they host these so late
I should be pretending to be asleep right now
this is generational discrimination
plus trumps supporters are so old there asleep by now
ohhhh its over
1036 final time
okay so thoughts....I generally dont like the party system i think its ridiculous the system was not designed for it, and its now more about loyalty then the actual candidates. I also am really hesitant to put another strait white male in the oval office, especially one thats from “the lucky few” I.E. the smallest voting generation in the country and also the one that already holds the most positions. That being said, at this point its really anyone but trump and I think bidens got the experience to turn things around. 
I AM IN SCHOOL I CANNOT VOTE. I am relying on all my older friends, followers, neighbors, and community members. To make an educated decision that wont further degrade the once hopeful future my generation awaits. Please if you can vote VOTE the kids are relying on you!
P.S. sorry i wasn't able to edit this earlier i struggle alot with spelling and didnt have the time to edit this because I HAD TO GO TO BED AND THEN GO TO SCHOOL. Why am I more politically active then people twice my age you might ask? Well, thats because adults are lazy and need to get of their gd asses and VOTE. So kids dont have to do the legwork for them. 
I have said my peace now, have a wonderful day!
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cal-tries-to-write · 3 years
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Dead men walking
Synopsis: Sam and Dean pick up a case in LA that seems simple enough but once they get there they only hit dead ends. That is until their one decent lead only leads them to almost getting arrested after a run in with some old family friends. A 911/supernatural crack fic.
Warnings: mention of blood and monsters (I’m honestly not to sure what to put here)
A/n Welcome to my first fic I’m publishing! And I decided to make it a rushed crack fic because I’m sad about the ending of superntural and I miss 911. This was also supposed to be a short little joke fic but here we are. Also a huge thank you to @buckleysjareau for helping me work out how the team would react go check her post which gives an amazing scene to what each of the characters are thinking, how they react and their like over all thoughts of the supernatural being real.
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“Dean I don’t see why we took this case there are plenty of hunters in LA.”
“Because you were complaining about just sitting around the bunker so I found us a case.”
“Ok but you hate LA, the traffic, the weather, the wait,” Sam stops halfway toward the house smirking at his brother, “this wouldn’t have anything to do with Maddie would it?”
“What Dads old hunting friend’s kid? No. It has to do with the fact that people are dying in weird way.” He scoffed not even bothering to look back at Sam.
“Whatever you say man. But if I remember correctly you had a huge crush on her when we were little didn’t you?” Sam laughed continuing towards the house.
“Shut up.” He glared tearing down the police tape and opening the door.
The outside looked normal, tan siding, windows with the shades drawn, a perfect porch, even a white picket fence but the perfect scenery changed the second they stepped inside. Gibberish covers the walls written in what the boys could only assume was blood. Symbols covered the ceilings and pools of blood the floor.
Sam shuttered looking around the room, he had seen a lot of messed up things, many worse than this, yet for some reason being in the room he was more on edge then ever before. Looking at the blood stained walls he tried to identify any of the words or symbols but failed, “So, I don’t know about you but I don’t recognize any of these words or any of the symbols.
“I’ve got to agree with you there.”
“Well then I say we head to the M.E to look at the bodies to see if there’s any clues there.”
“Yeah sounds like a plan.” After drivin back into the heart of LA he was pulled from his thoughts as Sammy informed him that they would need to stop by the police station before heading to the M.E to get the photos that were taken at the scene.
“Why don’t I drop you off at the M.E and I’ll go to the police station.”
“Alright just don’t forget to pick me when your done.”
“I would never.”
“Sergeant Grant?” Dean asks as he walk the officer the receptionist had told him was first on the scene.
“That would be me. What can I do for you?”
“I’m agent Ackles with the FBI I’m here to ask you a few questions about a 911 call that you responded to and look at the photos and evidence.”
“Let me guess the Briggs house? That place looked straight out of a horror movie when I got there.” She said as she started walking towards the evidence locker.
“Yeah that would be the call.” He replied following behind her.
“The only thing left at the scene was this,” she held up a plastic bag with a golden dagger in it, “well other than the body and writing.”
“Here,” Sergeant Grant handed him the two manila folder she hand been holding, “the crime scene photos. I was just looking over them and I still can’t piece together what happened.”
He thanked her as he left the station and flipped through the folder in the car. About 10 minutes later the only thing he knew is that Mr.Briggs was still alive and holding the knife when first responders got there. He heard his phone buzzing below some of the paper work. He quickly moved the folders to picked it up, “Sammy please tell me you have some clues after seeing the body.”
“I’m afraid not. The body’s fairly clean just cuts all over they seemed to be made by a small knife.”
“So we have no clue to what’s causing this other than a dagger and some bloody symbols and writing. Great,” Dean sighed as hit hit his head on the steering wheel, “okay I’ll be at the M.E in 20 minutes.”
Sam couldn’t make heads or tails or the case, nothing matched up, he could find any of the symbols in any books or online, he could figure out what language the writing was, if they were even actual words, he reminded himself. After sitting at his computer for a good two hours he decided he may have better luck getting information from the case files Dean had picked up earlier. They didn’t give him much but they did give him a lead to start with the next day, after the call was placed medical was dispatched first, arrived first and even got there before the guy died, the police were called after they walked in and saw the blood on the walls and ceiling. The statements came from a Captain Robert Nash and after a quick google search Sam found he worked at station 118.
“Get dressed,” Sam called into their room, “I found us a lead on the case. Or at least I think I did.”
“What’s the lead?” He yawned sitting up and stretched his arms.
“The cop you visited yesterday, Sergeant Grant, she wasn’t the first person on the scene. Medical was called first specifically the 118. And when they got there Mr.Briggs was still alive so we’re going to the station in hopes they have some information that the police reports missed.”
“And you can’t go by yourself because?”
“Because I don’t feel like interveiwing 6 people entirely on my own.”
“Fine.”
“Eddie!” Buck called after his friend as they walked towards the station.
“Buck.” He stopped and waited for him to catch up.
“Did you know that there’s a suprising amount of sibling serial killer?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well there are a ton. Like there were these two brothers who traveled across the US posing as FBI agents and killing people in mass amounts. They actually managed to make it to the top of the actual FBI’s most wanted list in record time. That was until they got caught and supposedly died in custody.”
“Supposedly?” Eddie gave him a questioning look as they entered the locker room.
“Well there have been tons of reports on people seeing them after their supposed deaths. And there’s a bunch of theories they escaped but the FBI didn’t want people worrying so they said they died.”
“Did you get any sleep last night of did you spend the whole night researching serial killers?”
“I got some sleep.” Buck yawned looking offended. He finished buttoning his shirt and then running to catch up with Eddie who was heading upstairs. Eddie just laughed at him.
After getting in a brief nap at the start of the shift then nothing but non stop calls the team finally got a break as they got started getting ready for dinner.
“Is Maddie going to stop by for dinner?” Chimney asked as he handed plates to Buck to set the table.
“I figured you would know considering your her boyfriend.”
“And you her brother.”
“Touché, and yeah she said she would try to stop by.”
“Buck can you go see what the two guys in suits want.” Bobby asked as less of a question and more of an order.
“On it,” He setting down the last plate running down the stairs only to freeze once he got fairly close to the two guys.
“I’m Agent Ackles and this is my partner agent Padelecki we were hoping to talk to Captain Nash?”
Buck completely terrified with fear said the first thing that came to his mind which was, “No your not.”
The two ‘agents’ looked back and forth between themselves than at him. “I’m sorry?” The taller one, Sam, Buck remembered from the article said.
“Buck you ok?” Eddie spoke from behind him causing all three of them to jump slightly.
Eddie took a step closer to his friend seeing that he was clearly uncomfortable.
“We are agents Ackles and,”
He was cut off by Buck saying louder than probably necessary, “They’re serial killers from the article I was telling you about.” 
As everyone in the stations head suddenly turned towards the four men on the main floor after hearing Buck say that the people he’s talking to are serial killer. Eddie took a step forward putting himself between Buck and the two ‘agents’.
“Wait, what, no we’re not serial killers.” Sam said putting his hands up, “Look your Evan Buckley right?”
Dean gave looked at his brother like he was insane. There was no way this was little Evan Buckley. Maddies baby brother, who last time they saw him was barely tall enough to reach counter tops. This guy looked like he could bench Dean.
“How do you know that?” Buck looked even more terrified now.
“Yeah how do you know that?” Dean looked at him confused himself now.
Sam turned to explain to Dean ignoring the looks Buck and Eddie were giving him, “Maddie and I kept in touch and after I left to go to school we started talking more. So,” he turned back to Buck and Eddie, “if we can talk to her I’m sure,”
“What do you want with Maddie?” Chimney, who along with Hen and Bobby had joined them on the main floor, questioned with a pissed look on his face.
“Im going to call Athena.” Hen said pulling out her phone and dialing Athenas number.
“I did the second Buck said serial killers.” Bobby told her. Hen stopped dialing and put her phone away.
Both of Sam and Dean were now even more worried with the threat of cops coming to the station. “Wait please just give us a minute to explain.” Sam attempted to defuse the situation.
“Sam? Dean?” Maddie called as she walked into the station, “What’s going on?”
“Maddie,” Sam sighed in relief, “Thank god can you please tell your brother we are not serial killers?”
She shifted her gaze between Sam and Dean and Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Buck, and Eddie. “Yeah they’re not serial, what are you two doing here?” Her eyebrows were knitted together as she walked towards the group and faced them.
“Ummm Maddie why are you talking to the serial killers like you know them? And like they’re good friends of yours and not serial killers?” Chimney asked.
“Because I do? Wait why do you all think they’re serial killers?” She looked at them realizing they all looked panicked, “Loom let’s all sit down and we can talk this out, alright?”
“So all of it, everything like ghosts, demons, shifters, vampires, werewolves, it’s all real?” Eddie questioned with a suprisingly calm look on his face, “And you,” he motioned to Sam and Dean who were sitting across the table, “you guys kill them?”
“Yeah.” Maddie answered from next to them, “I did too when we were younger that’s how I know the Winchesters. John and our dad used to go on hunts together and when we got older the boys and I did too.”
“I’m sorry can we back track here? So MONSTERS like honest to god MONSTERS are real and YOU hunted them? Is that what you and dad did on your hunting trips? Killing not deer but DEMONS! You could have gotten hurt! And how come I never learned any of this?” Buck stared at his sister across the table. He looked more distressed about learning his sister used to hunt these monster than learning about the monsters themselves.
Maddie let out a sigh, “Mom and Dad were very divided on the whole hunting thing. Dad wanted us to learn to be hunters because that’s how he grew up, Mom didn’t. So they compromised the first born kid, would learn all about monsters and how to hunt them, the second kid, would be kept completely in the dark about the supernatural.”
“The supernatural is real,” Eddie mumbled under his breath before raising his voice, “I knew it.”
Everyone immediately turned their heads towards him. A blush crept up his face once he realized he had said that louder than intended, “My sisters used to tease me all the time because I loved everything supernatural as a kid. I also believed in a lot of it to so they used it to play pranks on me.”
“Bobby everything alright?” Athena suddenly called from the main floor, “I got your text saying that you had two serial killers just walk into the station?”
Bobby stood up and hesitated as Athena climbed the stairs into the loft, before he looked at Sam and Dean then at Maddie and his team, “Yeah everything’s just fine. It was just a false alarm.”
Eddie jumped in to explain a little further when Athena gives him the ‘are you saying that because you’re in danger’ look, “Buck here thought agents Ackles and Padelecki looked like two serial killers from an article he read last night. I think the lack of sleep is finally getting to him.” He laughed off the second part.
She bummed before turning towards Sam and Dean, “Agent Ackles and you must be agent Padelecki. What are you two doing here?”
Sam spoke up quickly, “The police reports said the 118 was the first on the scene so we figured we stop by and see if they had and extra information that might help the case.”
She nodded understanding the help first hand accounts can have, “Well Ive got to get back to work. I’ll see you all later, and I will see you at home.” She walked over to Bobby giving him a quick kiss before turning around heading back down the stairs.
“I can’t believe you almost got your sisters friends arrested because you thought they were serial killers.” Hen laughed at Buck
“I mean technically I wasn’t being dumb the serial killers were them just not THEM.”
“I hope you know that sentence make absolutely no sense even with context.”
“So,” Maddie turned back around in her chair to face Sam and Dean, “you two never did explain what you are doing here.”
“Right,” Sam sat up straighter, “we heard about the Briggs house and it looked like something in our domain so we figured we check it out.”
Dean rolled his eyes, “Except we have found anything that helps us solve the case or figure out if it’s even remotely supernatural.”
Maddie stood up and pushed her chair in,“Well then, what can I do to help?” She said looking Sam and Dean in the eye.
A/n so that got long and I decided to stop that there because I like that as the last line. I might make a part two but I’m also working on another less cracky 911 fic. And I know super creative alias for Sam and Dean. Sorry about the weird spacing tumblr didn’t like me copying and pasting from docs apparently.
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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years
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The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 4 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)
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Thank you everyone for your patience with this. Finally!! Here is the next part! I am not sure when I will have Part 5 & 6 done but I promise they are already plotted out...just got to write them. So this takes place in Season 2, so we get to see our beloved Alfie in his gangster glory. 
Warnings: Swearing, some racial slurs, mild sexual content, nothing major
Words: 10k 
The Difference Between Champagne and Rum
Part 4- Chance Encounters and Necessary Libations 
~1922~
“Fuckin’ Italians.” Alfie Solomons muttered as he pushed through the door of Darby Sabini’s club in London. The obnoxious mixture of perfume, cologne and cigarette smoke assailed his senses making his throat close up. For the briefest of moments his mind returned to the smoke-filled, blood-saturated fields in France, with that nauseating smell making his throat constantly feel like it would rather seal itself closed than force more of the poisonous air into his lungs. Bombs going off. Piss running through the trench, mixing with the fresh blood. Men, boys really, screaming for God or their mothers…or crying out for death. Quickly Alfie shook his head before the memories could escape the locked box in his mind that was reserved for them. No, he had a different kind of pain in the ass to deal with currently.
He moved just off to the side of the main entrance, eyeing the swarms of men with slicked-back hair, women in flapper dresses and pearls, and the workers hovering in the shadows waiting to assist the guests. Realistically, the pause was also to give his hip a moment’s respite before he had to pretend the pain radiating like a flare out of his right hip was nothing. He would rather suffer then give Sabini one hint of weakness. The man was a shark, sniffing blood in the water and attacking anything weaker than himself. He scanned the place, noting the gaudy décor, bold colors and the aura of alcohol and lust infused in the air seeking to corrupt the mind with every breath. This was definitely Sabini’s place. Alfie sent a silent prayer heavenward that he never had to cross this threshold again. This place was certainly far from kosher. After he left, he might have to repent of sins he had not even committed just to cleanse himself of the stench of this place. 
“Fuckin’ hip.” He rubbed a hand over it for a moment before straightening. The sooner he met with Sabini, the sooner he could leave. “Let’s get this shit done.”
Black hat on, long black coat hanging off his wide shoulders, scowl on his face- he stepped out of the shadows and moved forward. The guests parted before him, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Not that he minded, he actually got a thrill out of seeing people’s reaction when in his presence. He could be the personification of intimidating when he chose to be. His cane tapped on the floor with each step, only taking some of his weight. It could be its own added force of intimidation. A solid strike with it had taught many people it could be used for more than just a handicap.
“Mr. Solomons!” One of Sabini’s men finally approached him. The pinstripe suit, slicked back hair and thin moustache were enough of a giveaway before the man even opened his mouth to speak in his thick accent. “Mr. Sabini informed me to meet you at the entrance.”
“Yeah? Kinda hard to do that when you got your fuckin’ tongue down that girl’s throat, eh?” Alfie pointed at a girl walking by in a cream-colored dress, attempting to adjust it back into place. “Where is Sabini? He said to meet him here.”
The man attempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, causing some to smear on his cheek, never mind the few spots on his neck he seemed oblivious too. “Mr. Sabini had an important family meeting come up. Once that is finished, he would meet with you. It should not take long.”
Alfie grumbled, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw, his beard prickling the skin. The idea of waiting for Sabini sounded awfully boring and insulting. Yet he needed to have this meeting. If for nothing else then confirmation that his new alliance with those gypsies was still worth his time.
Somehow the man seemed to sense Alfie’s decision to stay and gestured for him to follow. They passed the dance floor, nearby tables being used for both alcohol and snow, and the band at the head of the room. There was a slightly elevated section that the wop led him too. Only a handful of others sat at the tables, too focused on their own conversations and drinks to pay any attention to Alfie.
“I’ll inform Mr. Sabini of your arrival, he will be out soon.” The man gestured to a table in which Alfie took a seat. “All drinks are on the house.”
Alfie watched the man scurry off before ordering a whiskey when a server approached. If Sabini had not shown his ugly face before Alfie finished his drink, he would leave. Fuck this waiting-power game Sabini was playing. The truce between the two of them wavered like a flickering flame, some moments stronger than others but this newest insult was too much. He was affecting Alfie’s business and that was something the Jewish gangster would not tolerate.
His thoughts turned to his schedule for tomorrow and what needed to get done. Ollie had been harping on him to get a secretary with how business and paperwork had been expanding and piling up. Each time Ollie tried to bring it up, Alfie’s glare would shut him down. He did not need nor want someone else sticking their nose in his books and affairs.
About halfway through his whiskey he heard footsteps approach from behind. They were not Sabini’s usual cocky stride. No, they were light and with a clip from high heels. Alfie internally rolled his eyes. He wondered if Sabini sent a whore to distract him, he would not put it past the arrogant wop to try that.
“Is this seat taken?”
Her soft, sweet voice swept over him, causing him to tighten his fingers around his glass. His plan to be rude or ignore her flew out of the window. Her voice was a siren’s call, a lingering song from his past that he had never truly forgotten.
The chair across from his slid out and she gracefully settled herself. Light caught and danced off all the silver beads on her sleeveless gray flapper dress. Long gray gloves covered her hands that held a flute of champagne. His eyes traced up her form to her red, plump lips and delicate features to stare into her hypnotic gaze with gemstone eyes. The biggest change was her shortened hair, a bob now, very fitting with the current style apparently but a part of him lamented the loss of her long, sleek, blonde hair.
The air froze between them. Time and space no longer mattered. Their eyes beheld one another as if a magnetic force refused to let them escape. Trapped in this disbelieving look. Trapped in this moment. Yet there was nowhere else Alfie would rather be. Even after all this time, even after all the shit he had seen and survived, even though it had years since he last saw her…she was still the most beautiful woman to him. He doubted that was something that would ever change.
“It is you.” She breathed out as if momentarily in awe.
“Angel?”
A small smile tilted her lips up. “Damn. Alfie Solomons in the flesh. This must be my lucky day.”
A sound between a snort and a laugh emerged from his own mouth but never once did his eyes come off of her…not did hers leave his. A bubble of silence encased them but it never felt uncomfortable. They just stared at one another as if seeing the moon for the first time. His mind struggled to convince itself that the woman sitting before him was the very same woman he had pinned after for so long. Eight years had passed since he last laid eyes on her. Eight years in which he went to war and returned to expand his empire and reputation. The year before the war ended, her letters stopped. One of the only sources of light and joy in that fucking war ceased and it hit him harder than the bomb blast that sent him to the hospital. All his hopes, dreams and promises of reuniting with her ended then. Yet here she sat in front of him now.
His brain finally decided to start functioning again and he asked the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doin’ here? Your last letter said you was in America.”
She tensed minutely, barely anyone would notice but his eyes were trained on her and did not miss her reaction. After taking a quick sip of her champagne, she answered him. “I have been. I am currently traveling for business.”
“Business?”
“Mmm…I am not sure if you have heard but over in America, this awful law was passed and now alcohol is illegal. Apparently, it is the root of all evil, if you listen to some of the old women.”
“And where does business come in?”
She shrugged casually, peering over the dance floor for a moment. “There are some people willing to pay for alcohol, especially those with money…they just lack the connections to grant them this great evil.”
“So that s’where you come in. You’re a supplier of an illegal substance.”
“I prefer to think of it as a supplier of the finer things in life and good times.”
He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Even after all these years, she still continued to surprise him. “So what you sayin’, yeah, s’you still a trouble maker.”
“My dear Alfie,” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock horror, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Yeah, yeah, you s’fuckin’ angel. What are you doin’ at this club?”
She rolled her eyes, glancing around quickly. “My business partner and I were supposed to meet with Mr. Sabini but we have been waiting over an hour already.”
“Why the fuck you meetin’ with the likes of him?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Something within him roared in anger at the idea of her meeting with scum like Sabini.
“My partner thinks he has connections we could use. I disagree. With what I have heard, he is not a man to trust easily.”
“Yeah, you s’right, love. Stay well away from ‘im. What kind of connections you lookin’ for? Maybe I can help.”
“I actually planned on calling on you next week. Between us, your reputation may have…frightened my partner. He does not want to utilize your resources. He says you are too volatile and unpredictable.”
“Fuck ‘im too.”
She laughed shamelessly, eyes crinkling as she tilted her head back.
Heaven above, that sound was like music to his ears. He could not help as his own lips turned up at her amusement.  Every fiber in his body demanded he snatch her up and leave with her, never let her out of his sight again, beg her to smile and laugh for him because he had forgotten how it warmed him from the inside out. Although, if he somehow doubted that she would approve of his idea of kidnapping her. That idea made his smile broaden slightly. They both may have changed since they last saw one another but he doubted her independent streak had abated much.
“Come to me bakery tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll show you me bread and give you some names to check out.”
“I would like that.”
“Right! S’settled!” He clapped his hands together loudly, drawing the attention of the few other patrons sitting nearby. “Stop by in the mornin’. Mmm…yeah. I’ll have Mrs. Liebgott in the front expectin’ you.”
“If I may be so bold…” She gestured to his hands. Curious, he nodded and watched as she changed seats to sit next to him. Hesitantly she pulled his left hand closer and seemed to be examining it.
“S’you a gypsy now? Gonna read me palm for me fortune?”
A small smile appeared, the only indicator that she heard his tease. Now so close, her scent taunted him. That same lavender scent, even after all these years, still hung around her like a pleasant aura. As subtly as possible, he inhaled deeply, wishing to permanently brand his nostrils with her scent. Fucking hell, what was happening to him? He was starting to sound like some kind of miscreant stalker.
“Is that…from the necklace I gave you?”
He glanced down to see her finger gently touching one of his rings. “Yeah, the chain got damaged during…” he swallowed thickly, “…during a fuckin’ blast. Kept it in me pocket until I got back to London. Eventually had the gold melted from the chain to form the ring and had the star put on it.”
He wondered what she thought of it. The star was no longer perfect like when she had given it to him. There were dings and scratches on its surface. One of the star’s spikes was dramatically shorter than the others. Yet it still was the same star and same gold, just now a thick gold band encasing the simple gold northern star.
“I can’t… I am surprised you kept it.”
Unsure if those were really tears in her eyes or just a reflection off the club lights, he placed his other hand over hers. Her hands were now sandwiched between his.
“Course I kept it. It was the company’s fuckin’ good luck charm, given to me by me angel, yeah? Why the hell would I get rid of it?”
A genuine smile appeared as she squeezed his hand. “I am glad it brought you luck. From what your reputation says, even the devil himself could not have taken you down, Mr. Solomons.”
“Fuckin’ hell, he tried a few times. I had a promise to keep though. An angel told me I wasn’t allowed to die.”
“You certainly are a man of your word.”
“Mmm…yeah, yeah. That s’me.” His thoughts seemed to move sluggishly when he realized how close they were. Hands clasped between the two of them, bodies leaning forward. It felt surreal. She was truly here…in the flesh. All he wanted to do was pull her into his lap, wrap his arms around her and never let her go. Yet it had been eight years. He had changed, and he suspected she had too. Did she still want him like he wanted her? Could she? Or was this all a dream sent to torment him?
A voice destroyed their peaceful moment. A figure coming to stand near them. “Sarah, I think it’s time we leave.”
“Of course, Hector.” Sarah squeezed Alfie’s hands one last time before releasing him and standing up.
Alfie stared at the man who helped Sarah slip on her fur-lined coat. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man kept his hand on her lower back.
“Who is your friend here?” The man asked, his American accent easily recognizable. His blue eyes peered through his thin-rimmed spectacles, an intelligence there that was undeniable.
“Yes, my apologies. Hector, this is Alfie Solomons. Alfie, this is Hector Richardson, my business partner.”
Hector nodded slightly. “You seem to know each other well for how long you were talking.”
“We s’old friends, yeah. Haven’t seen her in years.” Alfie said, drumming his fingers on his cane.
“Old friends.” Hector repeated slowly. “Well pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solomons, but as I stated earlier, Sarah and I need to leave.”
Alfie grumbled, an unintelligent consent, wishing for this Hector to find himself at the bottom of the Thames. He did not like the look of him. He could not be much older than himself but this American carried himself like somehow Alife had insulted his mother. He had a handsome enough face, minus the slightly hooked nose and thin lips pursed in annoyance. What bothered Alfie the most was the possessive touch he had on Sarah. The idea to do some digging into this- Hector Richardson- sounded worthwhile.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel?”
“Yes, I promise.” She winked at him, furthering the scowl on Hector’s face. The two walked away, getting lost in the midst of the crowded club.
Her heady scent of lavender lingered behind like a pleasant memory. The feel of her hands in his brought a warmth to his soul that had been cold for a long time. In all reality, he knew he was overreacting to her reappearance. It had been eight years since he last seen her and truthfully at any moment she could vanish once again. Yet the irrational piece of his brain he usually silenced chirped that it felt like a missing piece was back in his life.
Grumbling to himself, he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, thoughts now turning to tomorrow and their meeting. He could not help but smirk at the knowledge that she was getting into the illegal liquor business. Even after all these years, the girl who should have been a princess and high above the rest of the peasants was still rolling in the mud with them. Even if she still carried a dignity and grace about her that made others turn heads and take notice. She may be in the mud with the peasants but she was a queen, no one could deny that.
“Mr. Solomons.”
Alfie turned to the wop from earlier who approached, now cleansed of lipstick.
“Mr. Sabini can see you now.”
Quickly Alfie slammed the rest of his whiskey back, that familiar burn bringing him back to the present and this god-forsaken meeting.
“A’right, lets get this done, mate.”
 *****
-The next day-
 “So you see sir…that’s…that’s what ‘appened. Just an accident.” The young man stood quaking under Alfie’s gaze, eyes darting around as if any of the other bakers would step in and help him.
Alfie grunted, turning to stare at the large spill of rum soaking into the floor. All he could see was money wasted, laying on the ground. Sure the other lads had managed to save most of the rum in the broken barrel but that did not alleviate one of the newest bakers from learning to be careful with the goods. Normally the foreman on the floor would be dealing with this mess but unfortunately Ishmael was out checking a new batch of cane sugar from Jamaica before bringing it back to the bakery. So that left dealing with this imbecile to the boss.
“Clean this fuckin’ mess up.” He demanded, paused a moment to see the young man nod erratically then turned to head back to this office. The shit that needed to get done today kept piling up without any signs of a reprieve in the future for him. This was something he really did not need to happen today. A shipment was supposed to go out tonight that he wanted to look over once more then there was that pub owner he needed to address for his late payments along with…
“I’m sorry, sir… I won’t spill no more rum. Thank you, sir…”
Before the young man finished uttering his sentence, Alfie turned around to tower over the lad. He glared, summoning all his repressed anger and intimidation, then poured it like hot oil over the lad.
“May I remind you…that the distinction between bread and rum, yeah…IS NOT DISCUSSED!” Alfie ended roaring into the quivering lad’s face. “GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OR I’LL FUCKIN’ CRACK IT OPEN!” Without waiting for a response, he turned and started towards his office. If the smell of piss was any indicator, he guessed he would not have any troubles again with that one.
Back in his office, he slammed the door shut, startling Cyril from his nap on his bed on the floor. The bull mastiff looked up at his master before laying his head back on his front paws, watching the muttering man, unaffected by his foul mood.
Shuffling around his cluttered desk, Alfie checked his pocket watch and groaned. It was only 9am and already he wished for the day to be over. He dropped down onto his seat to stare at the paperwork before him. It was an unending pile that he seemed unable to escape no matter the number of late nights or early mornings. Slipping his halfmoon spectacles on, he started again on the notice he had been reading earlier. Someone must have dropped it by late last night. It was from one of the police officers on his payroll, saying how they were getting a new captain and a few new recruits with a list of names. Alfie made a mental note to have the captain checked out, see if he could be of use before Sabini got to him.
A gentle knocking brought Alfie out of his thoughts but kept his eyes glued to the paper before him. “Oi! What s’want, Ollie?”
The creaking of his door alerted him to Ollie’s entrance.
“This better be good, yeah, or you can just fuck right off now.”
“Would you prefer for me to come another time?”
The teasing, sweet, feminine voice had Alfie almost giving himself whiplash with how fast his head jerked up. Ollie stood just inside the office, keeping the door open, meanwhile Sarah stood in the doorway looking like a vision as usual, a mischievous smirk on her lips.
“I like the spectacles by the way. They make you look…scholarly.”
Alfie snorted, taking the glasses off before rising. “Fuckin’ hell, love. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“I said I would. I always follow through with my promises.” She stepped further in, her heels clicking on the wood paneled floor. “I can come back another day if you are busy.”
“No, no. S’fine.”
“Ollie,” she turned back to smile at the man, “perhaps that pot of tea and scones would be beneficial right now.” She started to peel her fur-lined coat off, the same from the prior night if Alfie was not mistaken. Ollie immediately jumped to her aid, taking her coat and hanging it up on the hooks near the door. Sometimes Alfie wondered at the true intelligence of his assistant but the lad was certainly raised well in how to treat female guests. Probably due to his mother who was a tyrant when she wanted to be but would tear down governments for anyone she cared for.
“Of course, Mrs. Bondurant. Anything else I can do, Alfie?”
“No, just that.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, running a hand over his mouth and jaw. “Then we aren’t to be disturbed, yeah? When Ishmael returns, he can leave the papers with you for now.”
“Yes, sir.” Ollie gave one quick nod, his shaggy hair shaking with the movement before closing the door behind him.
“Mrs. Bondurant, eh? You married?”
She smiled slyly before taking time to look over his office. “Would it change things if I was?”
“Well that means I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about a married woman, yeah, very inappropriate.” He watched her, wishing he could read her mind. He wondered what she thought of his office. It was cluttered with bookshelves and files. A fireplace sat abandoned in one corner, only used on the rarest of occasions in the dead of winter. There were a map London on one wall and a couple drawings from an local artist he admired. He also did not mind admiring her in the cream calf-length skirt and plum blouse, a very sophisticated and modern look. She looked ready to take on the world, especially in those heels that made her legs look like a divine treat but were sharp enough to stab someone with. He wondered if she wore them because of how they looked or as a weapon. Probably with her, both reasons.
Slowly, she moved from where she had been admiring a drawing to stand before him. “And if I am not? If I am simply Sarah?”
“You ain’t never been just Sarah to me.”
Her lips twitched as her eyes trailed over his face and eyes, reading and weighing out his words. One of her hands came up to brush through his bristly beard, her thumb rubbing across the scar just above his jaw.
“France.” He answered her unspoken question. “Shrapnel from a bomb.”
“I heard you were made a captain.”
“Not noteworthy, love.”
“I disagree, I like the sound of Captain Solomons.”
There was that teasing, mischievous look back in her gemstone eyes that he remembered so well. Standing so close, even in her heels, her eyes were level with his chin. A strange realization that so much had changed since they last saw one another except for this. She was still the perfect height in his opinion. Her hand on his cheek, he drew his own hand over her cheekbone before running through her shortened hair.
“Why you cut your hair?”
“Are you not aware? It is the latest fashion.” She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, the perfect image of a spoiled aristocrat.
He chuckled, running his hand through more slowly this time. At least it did not feel full of product like some women wore their hair. “Sure it is. Never guessed you’d be one to follow the rules.”
“Maybe I will grow it back out. It does help me not to stand out.”
“Love, you are a beautiful angel. Anyone who don’t see that is a fuckin’ fool.”
“I see you still have that charmer’s tongue and honeyed words.”
“I am a man of many talents.”
“Mmm…I seem to recall a few of those talents, especially involving that tongue of yours.”
“Only a few? S’shame, yeah, gonna need to fix that, yeah.” His hands landed on her hips, holding her close. Their gazes remained locked, a heat spilling out between them to fill the air. This teasing, flirtatious banter they so easily fell into felt different this time. Maybe it was because they were different people now. Maybe it was because the time spent apart. Yet Alfie guessed it was because they no longer were hindered by her family and his limited time before the war. No, now they were free. He hoped.  
“Please tell me you s’unmarried, I don’t need to be fightin’ no angry husband later.”
“Afraid you will lose?”
“No, Angel, its cos if I kiss you, I ain’t lettin’ you go again, damn your husband.”
“How do I know you are not married?”
“Been too busy.” He dragged his lips over the shell of her ear, loving the way her hands gripped the front of his shirt like a safety line. “Now answer me question, love.”
“No, I am not married.”
“Mmm…good, good.”
“What now, Captain Solomons?” One of her hands reached down to gently cup his growing erection. “I thought I was here to talk business and see your bakery.”
He suppressed a groan, trying to keep his thoughts in line. It was hard to think beyond this bubble of lust they were creating. The lock on the office door had been replaced lately, so being disturbed was not an issue. There was nowhere to lay her down though. If memory served him correctly, she did not mind being pinned against a wall (although his hip may protest). He wondered how she would feel about utilizing his desk. It was very sturdy. His hands slipped down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as he lightly kissed a trail down her neck. “It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
And of course that was the moment Ollie chose to reenter with the tray of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, his eyes fixated on the two, his mouth gaping slightly. In all honesty, he probably did not expect to see his boss caressing this strange woman as one of her hands cupped his cock, her other tangled in his hair, pulling his head closer. That would give anyone a shock.
“Ah, um…I can come…”
“That is alright, Ollie.” Sarah stepped away from Alfie, somehow disentangling herself with ease and speed that astounded him. Probably did not help all the blood had rushed from his brain down to his cock. “Tea sounds delightful. I have been missing a good pot of English tea. Soothes the soul.” She peeked over her shoulder at Alfie, who had a scowl on his face. “Business before pleasure, sweetheart.”
Ollie almost dropped the tray on Alfie’s desk with that last comment.
Grumbling, Alfie tried to subtly adjust himself and get his mind off the feeling of how good her body felt under his hands. God, it was like the best wet dream and a nightmare simultaneously; having her so close and ready, yet then it being ripped away suddenly.
“Oh? And who is this handsome boy?”
Alfie straightened, fear coursing through him. So lost in her he had forgotten about the dog. “Sarah, wait-“
It was too late, she knelt down on the other side of Alfie’s desk near Cyril’s bed. Even Ollie momentarily looked horrified. Alfie expected to hear a cry or a growl, yet the immediate sound that greeted him was her cooing and a tail thumping. Coming around to the other side of his desk, shocked did not even begin to describe how he felt at the scene before him. There lay his massive dog that had torn men to shreds in protection of Alfie, who normally disliked strangers and even then was choosy about who he let touch him….now lay on his back, legs sprawled, tongue lolling as he got his belly and chest scratched. Sarah knelt on the floor, facing him, her voice low and cooing at him like he was the sweetest puppy. It would have been comical if Alfie could wrap his head around what his eyes were seeing. Exchanging a look with Ollie only mirrored his own surprise.
“Didn’t know you s’dog person.”
She looked back at Alfie, the widest, genuine smile on her face he had ever seen. “I love dogs. They are the most loyal companions and great for cuddling.”
“Mmm…” Alfie muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and jaw. He watched a second longer, transfixed by the sight in front of him. Glancing to his side, he suddenly remembered Ollie standing there, who now was staring at her with a dreamy look. “Oi! Keep those eyes in your head, boy. Now fuck off!”
He did not have to be asked twice, most likely knowing Alfie was pissed at him already for interrupting…whatever was happening before he arrived with the tray. Ollie stumbled an apology, along with a parting before scurrying out of the office, closing the door behind him.
“Are you always so harsh with him?”
“Didn’t like ‘im starin’ at you.” He reached a hand out to help her back to her feet, much to Cyril’s dismay. Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Before he could get his hands fully back on her, she evaded him to glide over to the tray.
“Now, tell me the tale of how Alfie Solomons became a distiller of rum and owner of such a fine bakery. I must confess I tried one of those honeyed scones with Mrs. Liebgott, who is a delight herself, and it was delectable. I may have to come back just for that.” Sarah poured herself a cup of tea while she spoke then sat to blow gently on the steaming liquid. At her last comment, a soft whine came from around the side of Alfie’s desk. “Precious boy, I will come back and see you too. Oh! What is his name?”
“Cyril.” Alfie shook his head at the strangeness of this encounter, but then again, when had him and Sarah ever met like normal people. He rounded his desk to sit in his seat, shuffling some papers out of the way to not spill tea on. “Why you askin’ ‘bout me business?”
“Curiosity…perhaps I am impressed and am trying to see how the young man I once knew with bloody fists has now become such a successful businessman.”
“You forgot to mention dangerous gangster.”
“You would not be the first of those I have encountered.”
He squinted his eyes at her, disliking that comment. Gangsters were not to be trusted. Who else around here besides Sabini had she ‘encountered’? Had she somehow met the Shelbys? The fuckin’ Russians? Why could she not stay out of trouble?
As if reading his thoughts, she waved a hand dismissively. “In America. Apparently it is a growing trend. Now, I am still waiting for my story.”
“A’right. First,” he pointed a finger at her, “where this ‘Mrs. Bondurant’ business start? Then you’ll get your fuckin’ story.”
Several silent moments passed, her holding her tea cup against her lips as she stared off to the side. Softly, just above a whisper, she finally spoke. “My father disowned me, said I was a disgrace to our family name. I never fit into the mold that he wanted.  Do not look at me with that pity, it truthfully was not a surprise to anyone. Once he realized I refused to be married off to benefit his business and position, he no longer had a need for me. Besides, he had my brother who was beginning to follow in his footsteps. So I went back to stay with some distant family in America…”
“That’s why your letters came from there. The men thought I had me an American sweetheart.”
She chuckled. “I remember you mentioning that. Ishmael wrote me a letter about how you got into a fight when one of the men called me a ‘whore’ or something. Still defending my honor even in the middle of a war.”
“Fuckin’ hell…he did?”
She nodded slowly, smile growing on her face.
Grumbling about useless friends under his breath, he motioned for her to continue her story.
“I traveled around some, New York City, Chicago, Charleston. I have some cousins who got into the liquor business of distribution to places willing to pay for the stuff even though it is illegal now. Apparently I have a good mind for business and numbers so they convinced me to help them.”
“That man last night…”
“He is a distant cousin, a business partner. Him and his brother are the ones I work with.”
He shook his head, secretly pleased the man was not a suitor. “Why the fuck he so possessive of you?”
“We have had a few encounters with gangsters who…who wanted me to be part of the deal. They have become a bit protective of me since. And also his wife is one of my good friends. Before we left to come here, she told him if anything happened to me, she would cut his cock off.”
He laughed, not expecting that.
“He has a valid reason to be afraid. You do not mess with Southern women, they are usually sweet and kind but they can be brutal if they want too. Anyway, after an…incident, I had to lay low for a while. Hector had me stay with some friends in Virginia who are moonshiners. Actually one of them reminded me of you. It was uncanny. His name was Forrest Bondurant. I guess at one point while I was resting, some men came to the house asking questions about me. Forrest told them I was his wife…and it just stuck. It certainly kept the men in the area from trying anything. It is not like I wanted to go by Sarah Byron anymore.”
“Mmm…what was this incident?”
She shook her head. “No, I answered your question. Now I get my story.”
Fiddling with the rings on his hands, he found himself pouring out about life after the war. Only two women in his life had been able to boss him around, his mum and the angel staring at him with eyes of interest and affection. He talked about how coming back he noticed how many men could not get work, their families forced onto the streets. Plus while he was gone, his mother started to get sick. Without proper care, because she could not afford it, she began to deteriorate. Seeing this, he began to figure out ways to make money to pay for her care. Thus the rum business began. He still had all his prior connections, memories of how everything worked and now the man power to make it a business. The idea of the bakery had actually been inspired by his mum who complained that he always came home smelling of molasses and rum. He managed to afford her the best care until she passed two years ago. Now his life consisted of his business. He still “ran” Camden, giving protection to those willing to pay for it and trying to keep the wops off his turf. He dabbled with races some but that was more Sabini’s territory. With the growing popularity of his nephew, he was thinking about getting into boxing matches more instead of it just being recreational. He was unsure how long he spoke for, her asking questions along the way. The tea and scones were long gone. Cyril had gotten up at some point and sat next to Sarah, laying his head on her knee so she could pet him absent-mindedly as she listened to Alfie.
Dramatically, the office door opened. Ishmael entered, a surprised and smug look on his face.
“What the fuck, mate?” Alfie demanded.
Ishmael glanced at his boss and friend before turning back to Sarah. His eyes scanned over her like she was a new species he had discovered. “Damn, Ollie was right.”
“Ishmael?” Her eyebrows rose as her mind seemed to connect his face to her memories.
“Yeah, love. It’s me. What you doin’ here?”
“Just talking history and business.”
Ishmael leaned against Alfie’s desk, ignoring the glare being sent his way by Alfie, focusing on her. “You comin’ down to the floor to see the bakery? I’d give you a tour.”
“Oi! You got somethin’ important cos if not then fuck off, yeah?”
“Seein’ the lovely woman who holds me friend’s heart is important.” Ishmael winked at Sarah before looking over his shoulder at Alfie, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And I came to tell you that one of our lads got in a fight with one of them Pikey boys and now that big fella, the red-head, is demandin’ to speak to you.”
“Fuck.” Alfie groaned, rolling his eyes skyward. He needed all the patience to deal with that particular man, who was good at his job but just continued to rub Alfie the wrong way constantly. Looking over at Sarah, he could read the amusement and understanding in her eyes. “Love, I’m sorry…”
“It is fine, Alfie. I am sure I have taken up more than enough of your time today. You do have a business to run.” She stood up, brushing out her skirt.
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
“What?”
He rose, coming around the desk to stand before her. A sudden desperation in him that he could not let her leave without knowing he would see her again soon. “Lemme take you out tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight. I still didn’t hear none of your time in America and we never talked business.”
She paused a moment, eyes scanning his face. “I would like that.”
“Mmm…good, yeah, good.” Before she could grab it, he reached over and snagged her coat, helping her into it. “Ollie! In ‘ere!”
Ollie stepped in, seeming to have been waiting just outside the door. Probably expecting to get chewed out for letting Ishmael in.
“Good. Take Mrs. Bondurant to the hotel she is staying. Use me car, yeah, have David drive you.”
“Alfie…” She started to argue, hand placed on his chest.
“No, that’s an order, yeah?”
She cupped his cheek, before pressing her lips to it. “Of course, Captain. See you tonight.”
He mumbled something unintelligent, brain suddenly on hiatus with the feeling of her lips on his skin.
Giving a brief smile to Ishmael, she followed Ollie down the walkway, looking like a goddess amongst the dim and dusty bakery.
Alfie shook his head, dragging his eyes away from the door to Ishmael to ask him a question. His foreman and friend just stared at him smirking. “What?”
“Gonna propose proper this time?”
“Ah, fuck off.”
Ishmael laughed, pushing off Alfie’s desk. “Bout time you married and started having a house full of babies. Me wife is sick of making dinners for you all the time.”
“I’m just waitin’ for you to finally die then Ruth knows I’ll marry her right after your ass is buried in the ground. ‘sides, your ankle biters like me more.”
“Well you be waitin’ around a while…don’t plan on dying yet.”
“Good, good. I need you still, you fuckin’ bastard. Now let’s go crack some heads, yeah? Cyril, c’mon boy.”
Ishmael clapped a hand to Alfie’s shoulder quick before walking out of the office. Straightening the rings on his fingers, he allowed his boss persona to rise to the surface. Alone with Ishmael, they could joke but out in the bakery, he was the boss you did not fuck with or your blood spilled on the ground. Cyril at his side, he strode out of his office, wanting to deal with this mess as quickly as possible. He had a pile of things he needed to do still but nothing would stop him from seeing his angel tonight. He cracked his knuckles. Like she said, first business then pleasure.
 *****
Unfortunately business took longer than Alfie wanted. It was closer to nine that evening when his car pulled up in front of the hotel Sarah was staying at. A nice place with brick walls, banners and an attendant at the door to greet guests and provide information. Alfie let his driver go home claiming to need the drive to clear his head, when truthfully he just did not want to be around anyone. That afternoon had been exhausting from dealing with the Pikeys working in his bakery (damn Shelby for convincing him this was a good idea) and then trying to catch up on paperwork. Parking the car on the side of the street, he hopped out, almost getting hit by an erratic driver before heading towards the hotel.
“How can I be of service, sir?” The attendant politely asked when Alfie approached the double doors.
“Um, lookin’ for a friend. She s’stayin’ here.”
The attendant glanced him up and down quickly as if assessing Alfie’s worth of being allowed through his doors. Before Alfie could give him a piece of his mind, the man spoke up. “Would you, by chance, be a Mister Solomons?”
“Um…yeah.”
“Ah. A Mrs. Bondurant said she would be waiting for you at the bar, sir.”
Grumbling to himself, he nodded to the man before slipping past the double doors and heading off to the bar area on the right. His eyes shrewdly scanned over the patrons before landing on her. What should of brought elation only caused a shot of fiery anger to course dangerously through him. Sitting next to her at the bar was a man who was much too close and much too focused on her in Alfie’s opinion. He was fully turned facing her, holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand and the other draped across the back of her chair.
Sarah was only turned slightly towards him but one of her hands were carefully holding a wine glass and the other a lit cigarette. Her dress was a deep red, V-necked so her cleavage peeked out enticingly, and two strands of pearls hanging over her chest with black heels that were sharp. She looked positively beautiful and sinful at the same time.
The man brought his face closer to hers, whispering something before leaning back and chuckling about whatever it was. Sarah laughed along but it seemed fake to Alfie. To his growing rage, he witnessed the man place a hand on her thigh as he continued talking casually.
Without warning, Alfie stormed over and practically yanked the man out of his seat, causing him to spill his drink all over the counter. “Keep your fuckin’ hands and eyes off ‘er, yeah? Or I’ll cut ‘em off. Got it?” He growled into the man’s face.
“What the fuck?” The man scrambled to stand up straight, made impossible by the way Alfie was gripping the man’s suit jacket. His own voice rising to meet Alfie’s anger. “We were just talking. Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your bloody hands off me.”
Permission granted and uncaring of the amount of stares he was receiving, he pulled the man upright to get into his face. “I’m Alfie Solomons, that’s who the fuck I am.”
Alfie watched the lightbulb go off in the man’s eyes as his name sunk into his thick skull. Where there had been irritation and rising fury, now was doused away with the realization of who held him and pure fear at the unknown of Alfie’s actions.
“Good, good. Anymore questions? No? Then fuck off, mate.” He released the man, who stumbled back before righting himself. He opened his mouth as if to say something but with Alfie’s pointed glare, he clamped it shut and briskly walked away without even looking at Sarah.
Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Alfie turned back to Sarah. She had not moved, a single eyebrow raised as she took a sip of her wine.
“You look like you need a drink.”
He chuckled darkly. “More than one.”
Taking the man’s seat, he plopped down and ran a hand over his eyes. He signaled for a whiskey from the bartender, who quickly cleaned up the spilled drink. “Sorry, ‘m late, love, I had some unforeseen business…”
“Was that necessary?”
He stopped at her abrupt interruption. Turning slightly to face her, he eyed her. “What?”
Pursing her lips, she took a drag off her cigarette before speaking, the smoke dancing out of her lips and floating above her head. “Was it necessary to come after William like that?”
“William, eh? You two s’friends?”
“No, I just met him.”
“Then pardon me but what the fuck is the problem then? You didn’t seem to enjoy none of how close he was to you or was I readin’ that wrong? You tryin’ for his attention? Hopin’ to fuck him?”
With that, she turned to face him, emerald eyes glowing with unbridled rage. “You listen, Alfie Solomons,” she spat out, keeping her voice low but no less deadly. “I can talk to, spend time with and fuck whomever I want. I am not some innocent posh girl you need to protect anymore. Nor am I yours in any way. I am my own and I can do whatever the hell I want. If that affects us then you can be on your way and do not expect to hear from me. Am I making myself clear?”
Alfie’s own anger rose up instinctively. No one had talked to him like that in years and he remembered how much he hated it. His own blue eyes met her emerald, flames practically flickering between them with the surrounding air thick with tension. He did not flinch nor look away when the bartender hesitantly slide his drink in front of him. This battle of wills between them, staring purposefully into her heated gaze made him notice something. There was a darkness that lingered in the edges of those beautiful, gemstone eyes he had always loved so much that had not been there the times prior they had met. No, this was something new and it broke his heart. It was the same darkness that lingered in himself, in returned soldiers, in people who had seen far too much violence and their minds could not forget. She was haunted, just like him. Whatever anger he held crumbled like dust at this realization. All he could think of was pulling her into his arms to protect her from her own pain. What had happened since he had last seen her those eight years ago?
“A’right, love, a’right. You s’right. Just don’t want to see you hurt, yeah?”
After a long pause, he could see the tension drain from her posture. Slowly, she brought a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his scar. “Why do you still care? Why are you still looking out for me?”
“Cos you s’me angel. You deserve it.”
A hint of tears glistened in her eyes as she held his gaze once again, but with a very different emotion this time.
“Now, it’s been a fuckin’ long day after you left. Me temper may have gotten the best of me. Here we are and this mornin’ you promised to tell me your story…mmm…so…”
“Is that so?” She chuckled, pulling her hand back to grasp her glass, and there was that twinkle in her eye that meant trouble. “Perhaps I want to see if you will beg for it?”
He leaned forward, invading her space intimately, as he whispered in her ear. “There is only one reason I would beg…and we will both be naked before that happens.” Returning to an upright position, he witnessed her pupils dilated slightly and lick her lips subconsciously. A jolt of desire shot through him at her action.
“An interesting proposal, Mr. Solomons. There is one thing I have heard that I am most curious about.”
“Mmm?”
“Some new friends I have made informed me that at the Paradise you regularly pay more for blonde company.” She smirked, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.
“Fuckin’ hell, what are you doin’ at a whorehouse?”
“I told you, I thoroughly research those who I may be doing business with.”
“You s’still trouble, Miss Sarah. Fuck…what you learn ‘bout Sabini?”
Shaking her head, she laughed making a smile appear on his own face. The prior tension between them fully gone.
“When you start smokin’?” Not that it bothered him terribly. During the war, he had become used to the smell. It was one of the few ways a soldier could attempt to relax while in the trenches. He never acquired the taste for it personally, much to the amusement of some of his men.
She shrugged, “I cannot rightly say. It just happened.”
He nodded, taking a sip of the whiskey. Not terrible stuff, surprisingly. Opening his mouth to tease her about it, the words died on his tongue as a different voice called out to her.  
“Sarah? Sarah Byron, is that you?”
The tightening of her hand around her glass was the only give away of emotions. Gracefully she turned to face the man now standing behind her. Alfie’s ire returned, especially with the look this man was giving her. In his crisp suit, cropped hair and smug smile, he looked the part of an arrogant aristocrat. He practically smelled of money from family inheritance.
“Yes…Joseph?”
He smiled broadly, eyes trailing over her body. Quickly he took that last step forward, plucked her hand and kissed the back of it. “My dear Sarah, it is a true pleasure to see you. I do believe your beauty has only grown since I last saw you. Unfortunately I have a brief meeting I must attend now but after, could I take you out for a drink or food? There is a splendid restaurant not far from here my driver could take us.  It has been far too long since we were able to talk without any preconceived notions and expectations.”
“Sorry, mate, she s’busy tonight.”
For the first time, the man turned his focus on Alfie. Meeting his narrowed eyes, all Alfie could think of was a serpent.
“Oh? Is she? And who are you?”
“Alfie Solomons.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “The gangster?” He looked back at Sarah. “Fascinating company you keep, my dear.”
“And who the fuck are you?” Everything in Alfie screamed at him to stand up and have this bastard’s face meet his fist…repeatedly.
“I am Joseph Coventry, Earl of Lancashire.” Keeping his sly gaze on Sarah, he pulled the single red rose out of his suit jacket’s pocket. He held it out for her, who took it somewhat reluctantly as he spoke again. “Truly a shame I must leave but I will call on you soon. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Sarah.” After a quick peck on her knuckles this time, he headed towards a far table already containing three men dressed similarly and with an air of high class.
“What the…”
Ignoring Alfie, she turned to the bartender. “Whiskey, a whole bottle, yes that one will do. Two glasses. Put it on my tab, please.” Snatching the glass bottle and glasses, she stabbed her cigarette out and left it on the ashtray before she got up and started towards the nearby stairs.
Alfie stared at the men a moment longer…this Joseph Coventry…an arrogant bastard if he had ever met one. It might be prudent to ask around about him. Alfie could usually get a good read on people, those that were trustworthy or not. Everything about this prick made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hand to unconsciously twitch to grab the pistol under his jacket. There was something there…something dangerous and deadly just under the surface…and the man had his eyes on Sarah. No, Alfie would not tolerate that.
After taking that moment to memorize Coventry’s face, he followed after Sarah up the stairs. He had a few new questions for her and with her purchase of a whole whiskey bottle, he was unsure how much longer she would be sober for. Although the idea of seeing her drunk did amuse him slightly, he wondered if she would be the angry type or the giggly, excessively talking type. Personally he hoped for the cuddly type but he would never take advantage of a drunk woman. He may be a low life gangster with too much blood on his hands but he did have some morals.
He quickly caught up to her on the second floor as she opened the door to room number 16. Without a word or a look back at him, she walked through and into the hotel room, leaving the door wide open. He followed, closing and locking the door behind him before scanning the place. The room certainly had an upscale feel with its floral wallpaper, wood accents and gaudy still life paintings. There were only two other doors, one he guessed led to the washroom and the other to the bedroom. His focus though turned to the woman who had collapsed onto the couch, her high heels kicked to the side, and pouring two fingers worth of whiskey. Within moments after pouring it, she slammed it down and poured another. So many questions resided on his lips but he kept them closed. Moving around the room, he tossed his coat onto a nearby wingback chair and joined her on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, allowing her space. To his surprise, she poured him a glass and wordlessly handed it to him. After pouring herself another glass, she leaned back and closed her eyes. He could not help his wandering gaze, eyes drifting to those sleek legs with more skin exposed as her dress had ridden up with her unladylike posture, and the swell of her breast, straining against her dress.
“Do you remember…” she stopped, licking her lips as of to encourage the words to come out, “…last time we saw each other. I told you I was back because I was supposed to be getting married.”
“Yeah.” Then it clicked and his eyes widened momentarily. “That…that bastard? That s’who?”
She took a tentative sip of her drink this time, still leaning back and keeping her eyes closed.
“Fuck, love, think you dodged a bullet with that one.”
A snort escaped her but it was her eyes opening and turning to look at him that caused him to finally relax.
“Tell me, Sarah.”
And so she did. He could tell she glossed over much of her story and skipped certain parts entirely. Yet he let her talk, sharing about her past eight years and things she had done. He sat mesmerized by her and her story. After the “insult” perceived by her father, he disowned her, kicking her out of the house no matter her mother begging for him to reconsider. More determined than ever to prove herself and to never let a man control her, she got on a boat and traveled back to her mother’s distant family in America. Finally America decided to join the Great War and many men were sent over to Europe. During this time she became more involved in that family’s business and proved herself to be an asset. Once the war was over, she continued with the work but settled more behind the scenes. Prohibition happened which only proved to make business a challenge she thrived in. Her brother died in France during the war and with the grief of losing her son and disownment of her daughter, her mother fell into a deep depression and eventually died. Her father died last year, the only reason she felt confident in returning to London after all this time.
Somehow during her retelling, their postures changed. Alfie had shifted to sit closer to her, feet still planted on the ground and a glass in his hand. Sarah laid stretched out on the couch, her legs over his lap with her head on the arm rest and a glass in her hand. Together, they were slowly working through the whiskey bottle while she spoke. His hand skimmed up and down her legs, the feeling of her stockings and skin under his hand was intoxicating.
When her story ended, he asked something that had been gnawing on him for years. “Why did your letters to me stop?”
She threw back the rest of her glass, turning to look at the large window they faced. “I did something stupid and got thrown in jail for a short time before family could get me out. The sheriff was not a fan of me.”
Something about the way she tensed and refused to look at him made him wonder what happened to her while in jail. Nothing good. The thought of this sheriff laying a hand on her made his blood boil and he wondered if the man was still alive so he could kill him himself. Slowly and painfully.
Reaching a hand over, he gripped her free hand and entwined their fingers. There was nothing he could say or do to take away the pain no matter how much he wanted to. He changed the subject, hoping to bring her out of the solemnness that she was wallowing in. “How long until you head back?”
“Two weeks? A month? Depends on if we decide to go to France and meet some connections there.”
“That s’it?”
He could not disguise the sadness nor longing in his voice. Emerald eyes turned to meet his, mirroring his emotions. Slowly she sat up, setting her glass down before placing one hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek.
“I will not leave unannounced. I can promise you that.”
“Is it selfish for me to want all your time while you’re here?”
She smirked, dragging her thumb across his lower lip. “Something particular in mind to occupy our time?”
“I’m sure I can get creative.”
“Promises, promises, Captain Solomons.”
In a heated rush, his lips claimed hers. Whatever slow building fire that burned between them suddenly turned into an inferno and Alfie swore he felt like his blood was aflame. Unexpectedly  she moved to straddle him, hands tugging on the buttons on his shirt. His own hands fumbled between cupping her ass and undoing the buttons on her dress. He sipped on the sweet ambrosia that was her mouth, drowning in the taste of her tongue and the heat between her legs over his straining cock. It was heaven. It was torment. There was one thing he knew, he could not stop. Whatever self-control he had flew out the window once their lips touched. He was fully under her control and had no intentions of going anywhere else. In one last draw of strength, he pulled away to meet her lust filled eyes. They had been drinking and he did not want her to regret this come morning.
“Angel, you sure?”
Slowly, she blinked as if awakening from a fog. Then she pulled off his lap to stand before him. A piece of him died when she turned and started to walk away. Did she regret this? Had he pushed her too far? They were certainly different people and with everything she had shared tonight, perhaps this was not what she wanted.
His breath caught in this throat, hope and fear warring within him when she stopped at the bedroom door. Meeting his gaze, she reached back and undid the last few buttons on her dress. It slipped down to pool at her bare feet, leaving her standing there in a sheer shift that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like both the angel he called her and sin wrapped up in a body that begged to be worshipped and ravished until she could not move. His blonde, green-eyed siren regarded him, a smile growing on her lips as he stared.
“Coming, soldier?” Turning around she strolled into the darkness in her bedroom, the slip coming off and dropping onto the floor like a trail for him to follow.
He did not think he had ever scrambled off a couch so fast. His shirt fell onto her dress on the floor, symbolic of their owners just a few feet away.
The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lust, laughter and contentment. Neither brought up the new scars scattered along both of their bodies. Pleasure was the purpose of the night. Something they certainly succeeded at if how sore they both were come morning was any indicator.
 *****
-The next day-
 Alfie sat at his desk, massaging his sore hip. He had been forced to use his cane more than he cared for today but thinking of the prior night and the reason why…completely worth it.
A knocking on his door had him looking up. “Come in.”
One of his men came in, a fellow soldier from France and now a baker, when he was not needed as protection on the streets.
“John, good, good. C’mere.”
John shut the door behind him and took the indicated seat, the chair creaking slightly under the weight. John was a large man, muscular and thick with a bushy beard and watchful eyes. Although Alfie would never tell him out loud, John was one of the few he trusted most that worked for him and found him indispensable. But Alfie did not want to boost the man’s ego more than it was.
“I got a task for your lads.” Alfie rubbed his hand over his jaw and mouth for a moment before continuing, damn the consequences. “There’s someone I need your lads to keep an eye on for me. A Mrs. Sarah Bondurant. Don’t let ‘er know, yeah. Just report who she s’been meetin’ with and make sure no one harms her.”
“This the woman who came by yesterday?”
Alfie raised a single eyebrow.
John shrugged. “Ishmael been talkin’.”
“Fuckin’ hell, that ugly bastard. Yeah, yeah, it is. Think you can do it?”
“Course.”
“One last thing. See what you can find out about a Joseph Coventry.”
“The earl?” John asked, clearly surprised.
“Yeah, I gots me a bad feelin’ ‘bout him.”
“Yes, boss. I’ll stop by in two days. Should have somethin’ by then.”
“Good, good. Thanks, John.”
After John left, Alfie toyed with the gold star ring on his left hand, lost in thought. After hearing everything from Sarah and seeing some of her scars, it only increased his desire to protect her. She would certainly be livid with him if she knew he had men looking out for her. He both loved and hated that independent streak in her. For now though, he needed to focus on work. He had managed that morning to draw a promise to see her again tonight, and this time he planned to take her out proper…maybe go back to his place after? He smiled at the thought of her writhing beneath his sheets. Maybe they should just go straight to his house?
A loud bang sounded from outside his door drew his attention back to the present and a scowl formed on his face. No rest for the wicked.
“Oi! The fuck is goin’ on out there?!”
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