#Please I’ve had a bit of brain rot over her this past week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sprinklrsplashes · 2 years

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oceans and engines | b.b

Summary: Bradley’s leaving for the naval academy but that means leaving behind his girlfriend

Pairing: college!Bradley x ofc (character has no name, except mentions of nickname, Dove)

Content warnings: 18+ readers please, angst, kinda smut (aka, not explicit), religious references

A/N: I have had major brain rot since I’ve watched Top Gun: Maverick, someone pls help me. I was listening to Oceans and Engines by NIKI and I had this idea for a while. I haven’t written in god knows how long so it’s probably terrible but I think I may have an idea for a part 2 so I may or may not write more, depending on how much actual work I get done in the next few weeks. So anyways, I hope you enjoy!

"So Naval Academy, huh?" She looked over to the voice next to her and shot them a look. "I'm just saying long distance is hard and with the kind of training he's gonna get, it's gonna be harder."

She didn’t need to be told this; it’s not as if she hadn’t been thinking about it for the past 2 months since Bradley’s acceptance letter had arrived in the mail. “We’ll be fine,” she bites back before downing the rest of the drink and pushing through the throngs of people to find her boyfriend. She spots him at the bar doing shots with his friends in the flight suit costume that they had bought him. He looks good, she’ll give him that (but then again, if he can look good in those horrendous Hawaiian shirts, he can look good in practically anything), and most notably, he looks the happiest he has been since, well, maybe since the 3 and a half years she had known him. Bradley belongs up in the air, has been since he was about 2 years old and that was the one thing that she loved about him; she had never met someone who was more sure of themself than Bradley Bradshaw. But now, looking at him from across the bar, there’s the selfish part of her that wishes that there was some doubt so it wouldn’t be so easy for him to go. But that was unfair because while Bradley belonged in the air, her heart lies with music and if anyone asked her to give that up, she wouldn’t go down without a hell of a fight.

He spots her from the bar and motions her over to which she smiles and shakes her head. She doesn’t want to be the one to put a damper on Bradley’s night, especially with his friends. All she can think about is how she wants to spend the last few moments they have together entwined in another, not in some dive bar playing 80s music with sticky bar tops and floors. But he pouts and she caves. He could ask her to do anything and she would probably do it no questions asked and sometimes that thought alone scared her more than anything.

“Dove!” he throws his arm around her and kisses the top of her head as he pulls her in. He smells like whiskey and cheap beer, and is clearly intoxicated. He never calls her Dove in public; that was just their little thing. It’s not a big deal but it throws her off.

“What’s with the name?” one of his buddies asks as he looks over at Bradley’s girlfriend.

“That’s her call sign. Y’know like in the Navy. It’s because she’s so kind, loyal, graceful and innocent like a little Dove. D’ya wanna know my call sign is gonna be? Rooster, because I have a big -”

He’s not being an asshole on purpose, Bradley could never, but he is on the verge of acting like one now. And maybe if she was a bit more drunk and having more fun, she’d be laughing along with him and his buddies but instead she sits besides him, arm curled around her shoulder, picking at the label on a beer bottle as she tunes out of the conversation as she wonders is this a bad omen; how is it possible that two people who are so close to each other can be so far away.

When they go home the air feels thicker in the room as they both lie curled up against each other on the twin sized bed they both have seemed to outgrow. Any other day and they'd probably be laughing at how ridiculous they look but neither of them said a word. Both just clinging onto each other, fingers and limbs intertwined, silently counting down the time they have left together. She buries her head into the crook of his neck and shifts, hoping the rustle of the sheets hides her sniffles. It's stupid because both of them knew this day was coming and somehow now that it's here, it hurt more than she had imagined it. There was a part of her that had to admit that maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility that he loved her more than he loved flying and when it came to it, Bradley would stay. He'd leave it all behind for her but that was ridiculous because she also knew that flying was one tie to his father and she could never ask him to let go of that. She loved him but not enough to be that selfish and he loved her but not enough to stay.

"Little Dove," his voice is soft as he languidly strokes her hair, "We'll be okay. We can make this work."

There's a hitch in his voice that makes her think that he doesn't believe it but she doesn't point it out. If he believed it, he wouldn't be crying too. Maybe it would be easier to just to end it here, no hard feelings or bad memories, just two people who loved each other but were on different paths in life and the least selfish thing to do was to let go. But in a blaze of blind optimism at the beginning of the relationship when they were both bright eyed 20-something year olds, they both decided that it was worth a try. There was a possibility that they were right, and perhaps they were that 1% that would pull through but chances were slim and she wouldn't be rushing to place any bets on it.

She doesn't say anything (she's not sure if she can and even if she did find the right words to say, she can't trust that her voice would betray her and say reveal everything that she thought) and hooks her pinky finger against his. Her eyes are glassy as she looks up at him, "Promise?"

Such an innocent word also happens to be one of the cruelest things she could ever say to Bradley. She knows he would never break a promise, especially a pinky promise (those were sacred) but this is one that will inevitably be broken. There's a hesitantly pause and she feels him stiffen against her, and there's a part of her that wishes he'll be the first to break and stop this facade but he echoes her back, "Promise."

Pettiness begins to effervesce deep within but she pulls the stopper before she says something she regrets and the last thing she wants to do is to end their time together in an argument over some silly little words. Instead, her eyes trace his features until she feels like she can remember every single scar, and then she leans up and kisses him. It's soft and desperate in a way that Bradley's never felt before, almost like he was her lifeline and she was trying to hold on.

Her chest heaves as she pulls away, corners of her eyelashes wet and she tries to smile but her eyes don't crinkle into those little crescent moons that Bradley always found so endearing. He found himself counting the colours in her eyes, memorising every single piece of her before he forgets the little details, like the way she always smelt like vanilla with the hint of coconut, the way she crinkled her nose whenever she was embarrassed, or the sound of her laugh. These were the things that he wished he could engrave in his brain forever but sometimes he thinks even that isn't enough.

Bradley presses a kiss to her forehead, then to each of her cheeks, and her nose before crashing his lips against hers. A soft whimper slips from her lips as he pulls away and he wishes he could save that sound forever in his memory. He probably would have teased her that any other day, but today, Bradley just wanted to savour this moment. Her eyes watch him carefully as he brushes her hair out of her face before diving back down to pepper kisses along her jaw to her neck. He knows exactly what she likes and when a moan falls from her lips, she swears she can feel him smirk against her neck. She thinks about the fact that no one may ever know her the way Bradley knows her, inside and out, and that thought alone makes her sick.

But when Bradley’s hands are unbuttoning her shirt, lips slowly moving down as he does so, she can’t help but think of anything but him at this present moment. She throws her head back with a gasp when his tongue flicks across her nipple whilst his fingers flicks the other. He mumbles something against her skin and the vibrations makes her shudder.

“Bradley… don’t tease,” she gasps as she tangles her fingers through his hair, trying to pull him back to her lips.

He looks up at her, pupils fully blown, lips swollen and messy hair. God, she has never seen something more attractive in her life and she loves him so much. “Tell me what you want,” his voice is raspy and that alone nearly makes her drop to her knees like he’s her altar.

“You. All I have ever wanted is you.”

There’s a pause, and she swears that she can see Bradley’s eyes darken before his hands are working underneath her shorts and he’s pressing soft kisses on her hips and down her thighs, ghosting past the places that she wants him the most. He lifts up his head, resting on her stomach with a dazed smile on his face and the way that the light illuminates him makes him look almost ethereal. He could belong in the Louvre but she wouldn’t want to share that image with anyone else. It was hers to keep and only hers.

Her lips part with a gasp when his fingers finally reach her clit after what feels like an eternity. It’s nearly embarrassing how wet she is for him, especially when he’s barely touched her but she needs him too much to care.

“Is this all for me?” Her hips buck into his hand when his finger swipes through her folds, dipping ever so slightly into her entrance. There’s a hint of smugness in his voice when he asks her because he knows what the answer is.

“Yes,” she breathes as she moves her hips, trying to find some relief but he has her hips held down, “Always. No one can make me feel this way but you.”

Bradley seems satisfied with that answer as he grins before diving down like a starved man until she’s shaking and seeing blinding white spots of light. She repeats his name like she’s praying to him for her salvation as she reaches her climax. Knuckles white, clasping onto him for dear life. She’s going to leave marks on his back and the thought of him being marred with little crescent moons on his back and shoulders fill her with satisfaction. It was a reminder that he’s hers (until he isn’t anymore). “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whimpers into the crook of his neck as he rides out his own release.

It doesn’t take long for Bradley to fall asleep; it never does after sex. But for her, she’s never been able to sleep well. Being next to Bradley always helped, but the thought of having to sleep without him keeps her up. He won’t be there to stroke her hair until she falls asleep before he does and she goes through all the things she can try to help her sleep without him. She can do this, she tells herself as she watches him. So peaceful and innocent. She wants to remember him this way before she shatters every piece of his heart but it’s for the best. She has to leave because she knows Bradley would never leave her first. Every person Bradley has ever cared about has always left him so he’ll never be the first one to leave.

There’s a note on the bedside table for when he wakes and she hopes he can forgive her even if he doesn’t understand. She glances at the bed as she pauses at the door, one foot in, one foot out. If he wakes now, he’ll stop her, but he’s still blissfully unaware. The more she waits, the more she can’t bring herself to go, but no, she knows it’s what she has to do. With that, she takes a deep breath, closes the door and walks away without turning back.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun fic #top gun maverick #ness writes

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pibt-tm · 3 years

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Miss Orly I love youuuu

#Please I’ve had a bit of brain rot over her this past week #Excuse me queen you dropped this 👑#Memes #Me #Ace Attorney #Olga Orly #(I don’t really care if this gets notes I just felt like posting it)

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themoonandvenuslovechild · 2 years

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Depression

Summary: It had been one of those weeks where the depression was just unbearable, so you had decided to spend your week isolated from the team, telling them you were sick. Druig and Makkari come check on you one day, only to find you wrapped up in your blankets with an incredibly dirty room. They know you’re not okay, and they decide to do their best to make it better for you.

TW// depression, mentions of self-harm, mentions of bad eating habits, apathy, tooth-rotting fluff, suicidal thoughts, mentions of death, non-sexual nakedness

Pairing: Drukkari x Reader

A/N: in honor of my depressive episode as of late and the fact i haven’t cleaned my room in over two months 🥸

No one had seen you today, an incredibly unusual occurrence, considering you tended to be the team’s main motivator for continuing through the day. Worry coursed through the veins of your team as they stood around in the common area.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Druig asks, his accented voice flowing through the air.

Everyone shakes their head, except for Sersi. She opens her mouth with a soft intake of breath before she begins speaking to the team, answering the question that had been on everyone’s minds. “She’s sick. I went to find her this morning and she was in bed, said she was ill and she may not be out for a couple of days.”

Druig nods slowly, his gut telling him something about that was wrong, but he never knew you or Sersi to be people who would flat-out lie. A soft huff leaves him as he lets his shoulders drop. There’s a hint of worry still flowing through his body, but for the most part he feels okay, knowing that you’re safe in your room in the Domo.

Everyone excepted that you didn’t wish to be bothered while you recovered from whatever disease you had contracted, but after a week of no contact with you, Makkari began to grow quite worried, as did Druig.

“We should go check on her,” Makkari suggests, her eyes wide and showing her concern for your well-being.

“I’ve been thinking the same,” is Druig’s response as he stands from his seat and holds out a hand for Makkari to take.

She places her soft hand in his, and she walks with him to your bedroom door, their footsteps making a soft padding noise on the floor of the Domo. They reach your door, a note stuck to it reading, “Please do not disturb, I am sick!”

Makkari frowned a slight bit, pulling her lip between her teeth and taking her hand back from Druig. “What if we’re just bothering her?”

“Then we apologize and leave her be, but I’ve felt off about her being sick all week.”

Makkari nods as Druig takes a hand and knocks loudly three times on your door, only to receive no response from you. They both know you’re inside the room, but your lack of answer begins to worry them more. Makkari grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open, finding it hard to open past the pile of plates near the door, most (if not all) of the food that was originally on the plate still remained, showing you hadn’t been eating much of the meals you’d be given.

“(Y/N)?” Druig called softly for you.

He scans the room, only stopping when he watches Makkari march towards the bed and pull the covers back, exposing your body curled in on itself as you whine, the loss of warmth making you want to whine.

“What?” Your tone is more harsh than it would usually be, the tiredness seeping into your attitude for others.

Makkari immediately notices evidence of your poor mental health marked across your thigh, white scars and red scabs on your leg. Her eyes soften as she reaches out to you, her palm landing on your ankle, your reflex being to pull away as soon as the touch registers to your brain.

Druig looks at her in questioning, and he tilts his head just slightly.

“Her thighs,” Makkari signs, pain in her eyes at the fact that you’re in pain.

His eyes drift down and he sees what Makkari is talking about. He frowns and his eyes glide back up to your face, seeing how red it is from irritation.

He places his knee on your bed, slowly putting his weight on it. Then, he calls out to you with a gentle tone. “(Y/N), is it okay if i touch you?”

A little whimper of agreement leaves you, and Druig’s hand finds your own, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You begin to cry again, warm tears streaming from your face and embarrassment taking over your body. You didn’t enjoy crying in front of others, it was unpleasant.

Except this time, it wasn’t, as Makkari took the time to crawl into the bed with you, her body embracing your own, gathering your shaking form into her arms and laying your head against her chest. One of Makkari’s hands begins to rub up and down her back in a soothing motion, trying to help you calm from whatever emotion it is that you’re feeling.

“I just want to die,” you say and sloppily sign as you cry softly into her. The two of them stiff up at the declaration, their eyes meeting each other, not quite knowing what to do.

“M’darling, let us help you.” There’s more sobbing as you nod your head, and they both know it’s more of a pleading than an answer.

Druig motions for Makkari to hand you over, taking you into his arms and lifting you bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom, and setting you down on the counter. His warm hands cup your face as he rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes before speaking. “I’m going to start you a bath, and then I’m going to help ‘Kari clean up some while you soak in the water, beautiful girl.”

“Okay.” It’s the first word you had said since they’d seen you, your voice shaky and hoarse.

“Okay.” He nods against your head before pulling away, his hand turning the knob on the tub, turning it to warm and plugging the drain, waiting for the tub to fill.

“I’ll be back in just a minute, pretty thing, you just stay right here.”

He turns his back to you, and walks to go into your room, finding Makkari already stripping the sheets and blankets off of your bed. When he enters, she turns towards him and gives a forced smile. Druig knows that his heart hurts just as much as his own because you were in pain.

“Is she okay?” Makkari is quick to ask.

“I’ve started a bath for her. I figured one of us could clean up and the other could stay with her to make sure she’s okay and nothing happens in the bath.”

Makkari nods. “I’ll clean, you stay with her. She’ll be able to interact with you better right now, since she can hear your voice.”

Makkari gives a lopsided smile at the end of what she’d said, obviously upset that she couldn’t comfort you as well as Druig could in this moment. Druig sighed and nodded, turning around to help you bathe.

You were exactly where he had left you, set on the counter. Druig is almost sure you haven’t moved the tiniest bit, and it concerns him more.

“Are you okay if I help you undress?”

You nod, silently consenting to his help. He steps forward and pulls your shirt from your torso, tossing it in the corner. He pulls you off the counter before tugging your pants and underwear down your legs, leaving you fully nude in front of him.

Druig can see the effect of you not having eaten much this past week. You’re pale and there’s dark circles under your eyes. Your body is shaking as you stand in front of him. He’s scared for you, and he’s scared for whatever you’ve been going through.

His strong arms lift you and carry you to the tub, setting you inside the warm water before turning off the faucet, leaving you to snuggle a little deeper into the warmth as he kneels beside the tub.

Your eyes are closed as he speaks to you, his words reverberating off the walls. “I’m going to wash your hair, okay?”

You hum in response, before feeling his hands disrupt the stillness of the water by pooling some in them and dumping it over your head to wet your hair. A part of you felt the need to help Druig, even in this state where you’re numb and tired, so you dunked your head under the water.

When you resurfaced, Druig watched as you wiped the droplets from your face, relaxing once again. He put shampoo in his hands, lathering it together before they found your hair. Gently, he massaged your head, his fingers pushing ever so slightly against your scalp, making you hum at the touch. He ran his fingers as thoroughly through your hair as he could before he dunked his hands back into the tub and began attempting to rinse your hair of the suds.

It made a small laugh bubble from within you. It was the first time you’d truly laughed in a while, and it made your heart soar and free fall at the same time. It was wonderful to have joy, but it hurt knowing you had been lacking it. It hurt bad enough knowing you hadn’t had joy that you almost wanted to force yourself into sadness.

He could see the internal conflict you had going on through the ways your eyes flitted back and forth, almost as if two people were arguing and you were trying to choose who to watch.

“I’m here for you, (Y/N). Makkari is here for you. We’ll be here if you want to talk about why you’ve been locked away all week.”

Your eyes meet his, and you catch the figure behind him. Makkari begins to walk over, kneeling next to Druig and sliding her hand to your cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth across your cheek bone.

You don’t speak the rest of the time that they help you bathe. They had lifted you from the tub and wrapped you in a soft towel before Druig went back to carrying you like you were a princess. He laid you on the bed, and you quickly took notice to the way that the sheets felt clean. Your sheets were clean. Your room was clean. It was fresh and new.

It made you cry.

Neither of them knew how to respond. Makkari took the approach of trying to get you clothed so that she could cuddle you, while Druig was trying to figure out what exactly you were crying about. It was a mess.

They were your mess, though. Your perfect bundle of sweet and salty, sarcastic and serious, intelligent and stupid. They were your people to love.

When Makkari had gotten you dressed she had crawled into the bed, sitting behind you with her legs on both sides of your body, having you lean back into her. Her hands ran through your wet hair, and you tilted your head to look at her, her eyes meeting yours while they were full of love.

“I love you,” you sign to her.

She melts a little as she signs it back.

“I love you,” you say to Druig.

“And I love you, now you have to eat.” He hands you some kind of fruit you’d never seen before, his fingers brushing your own as he lets it roll from his palm to yours.

“What is it?”

He gives you a look that says ‘just eat the damn food’, so you did.

It was amazing, a sweet combination exploding in your mouth, and you smiled in satisfaction. Makkari’s hands moved to speak, and you snuggled into her to get away from embarrassment at what she’d said. “There’s that beautiful smile.”

Druig laughs at your reaction before crawling into the bed and joining the skin-to-skin contact, practically crushing you under him as his fingers dance along your sides, tickling your skin.

“Dr-Druig! Stop! That ti-tickles!” Your giggles echo around the room as you squirm between your lovers, trying to escape the man’s torture.

He does stop, his eyes showing you that you mean the world to him as he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back before pulling away and giving a kiss to Makkari too.

Depression was difficult, watching people get hurt was difficult, but Druig and Makkari were always there for you, and you’d always be there for them. No matter how difficult things became.

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sunder-soul · 3 years

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𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

Chapter Two: He’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you. If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. Wordcount: 2.3k Content warning: language, allusions to bigotry.

Story Tags: @crazytwentythrees

Permanent Tags: @jujugentle @weirdowithnobeardo @pearlstiare @fromthehellmouth @whoevenfrickenknows @moatsnow @voidmalfoy @lucys-brain @sunles @arana-alpha @tallyovie @expectoscamander @nothinghcppens @itsjustfics @mikariell95 @suicide-sweetheart636 @toasterking

McCollin slams the Records Room logbook down on your desk and you nearly jump out of your skin. “I told you to drop it,” he says coolly.

Your initials are scribbled on the page half a dozen times over the past two weeks. You look up at him wide-eyed. “I…”

“You were only supposed to watch that stupid trial once,” he interrupts, eyes hard.

“Look, I’ve found stuff, McCollin! Merope Gaunt? She ran away with Tom Riddle, for Christs’ sake, they got married and everything! That’s why Morfin was talking about her in his trial!”

He falters, brow furrowing. “How did you find out that –”

“I’ve been doing some work on the case – off hours,” you add hastily at his expression, “and look, I know you said it was pretty cut and dry, but in that whole trial no one actually asks him why he did it –”

McCollin laughs a little unkindly. “No one asked him why he did it? Do you hear yourself? Didn’t you just say his sister married a Muggle?”

“Yeah but she died ages ago,” you say desperately, leaning forward.

“Why does that matter?”

“Morfin was released from Azkaban in ’28 and came home to find his sister gone. He lived right around the corner from those Muggles, McCollin, so why did he wait fifteen years to kill them?”

McCollin gives you a deeply sceptical look. “Your problem is that he didn’t kill them sooner?”

“My problem is there’s no reason that he didn’t kill them sooner!” you correct. “If he’s really such a nutcase, why did it take him that long to get revenge on the Riddles?”

“Maybe he didn’t know who she’d run off with until then,” he shrugs.

“Then how did he suddenly find out in ‘43?”

McCollin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, kiddo, I’m gonna do you a favour. I’ll let all this slide if you drop this thing now and stop letting it distract you.”

You gape at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“But I’ve found –!”

“I don’t care what you’ve found, I need you to do your job,” McCollin snaps, waving at your desk. “So some pure-blood nutter murdered some Muggles because his sister ran off with one of ‘em, what in Merlin’s name is so hard to understand about that?”

“She had a kid with him!” you hiss.

He hesitates again. “You found a birth certificate?”

“No, but she died in a Muggle orphanage and was buried in the pauper’s yard, what do you think happened?”

McCollin, for the first time, looks somewhat doubtful. “Case never mentioned a kid…” he says slowly.

Hope sparks in your chest. “And where was Tom Riddle whilst his wife died in childbirth, huh? Where did the kid end up? Did Morfin know about them? Did Riddle even know?”

McCollin exhales a very fatigued sigh. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“If you figure this out, will you get back to your actual job?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

You’re on the edge of your seat. “I promise.”

He grits his teeth. “Merlin… fine. What do you need?”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You hate Azkaban. The place is dark and cold and dripping wet, the dementors never stay quite far enough away, and the screams and sobs of the prisoners within the black stone stick in your heart for weeks afterwards.

“In and out,” McCollin mutters, pulling off his hat and casting the dementor beside you an aspersing look. “Five minutes, kiddo, and then we’re gone.”

You nod quickly and step down the long, dark corridor, peering at the parchment in your hand and checking it against the cell numbers scratched into the stone on either wall. You find him around the corner. Cell 75191.

You lift your lit wand, squinting into the darkness. “Morfin…?”

There’s the faint clinking of chains and then a skin-crawling hiss that makes your heart clench in fear, followed by a rasping, phlegmy cackle.

“Morfin Gaunt?” you try again, catching sight of movement in the corner of the cell, a figure hunched there.

He only hisses again.

“I don’t speak Parseltongue, Mr Gaunt,” you say with a forced calm, “I’m here to talk about the Riddles.”

Morfin spits at the ground. “Riddles,” he growls. “Fucking Riddles, fucking filthy Muggle Riddles in their filthy stinking house, got what was coming didn’t they? Got what they deserved in the end –”

“You knew about Merope and Tom Riddle, didn’t you, Mr Gaunt?” you interrupt, hands shaking in the aching cold. You bury your non-wand hand in your pocket in vain – the chill of the prison is all-permeating.

“Filthy Riddle… filthy scumsucker…”

“Why did you kill the Riddles in 1943?”

He barks a hideous laugh. “Muggle scum they were, had it coming, saw the light leave their eyes at the end of a wand like was intended, not my sister, not my family –”

“Why did you wait, Mr Gaunt?”

There’s silence. Your heart thrums nervously.

“You got home in 1928 but you didn’t kill the Riddles until 1943… Why didn’t you kill them sooner?” you press carefully.

Morfin doesn’t reply for a moment, and then – “Muggle scum,” he mutters a little dolefully.

“Yes but what changed?” you say, patience fraying a bit. “What changed in 1943? Did something happen?”

“Scourge of the earth… got to get rid of ‘em all, that Grindelwald fellow had the right idea, get rid of ‘em –”

There’s a sound like a heavy door closing in the distance and you’re suddenly very aware that you don’t have a lot of time left. “Did you know about Merope’s child?” you ask pressingly.

Morfin descends into a coughing fit and spits what sounds like a hefty wad of mucus onto the floor of his cell. “Knew it,” he says darkly, “I knew it, that slut…”

“You knew?”

“Looked just like him, didn’t he?” he snarls.

“Who?” you say at once.

“He looked just like that nasty, filthy, disgusting Muggle… Well, they’re all dead now.” He laughs nastily again. “Rotting in the ground where they belong, Muggle scum…”

You can hear McCollin calling for you but your head is spinning. He waited… he waited fifteen years…

If Merope’s son had been born at the end of ’26, he would have been sixteen in July of ’43.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“I know why he waited,” you breathe to McCollin the second you’re back in the safety of the Ministry.

“Why?”

“I know why he waited to kill the Riddles – Merope’s son came to find him – maybe he was looking for his family, he probably grew up in that orphanage – he really did only find out about her kid in ’43 and it made him snap and –”

“Slow down,” McCollin frowns, hand on your shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“You have to get me access to Morfin’s memory of that day,” you say intensely.

His face and his hand fall in unison. “You said that if I got you in to see Morfin, you’d let it go,” he says sharply.

“I know but Jesus McCollin! Shouldn’t we find her son?”

“This is getting out of hand,” he mutters, turning and walking off across the huge entrance hall.

“Please,” you say, following him. “Please! I –”

“No,” he says flatly.

“But –!”

“What, you want to watch murders now?”

“McCollin, just listen –”

“I’m serious, drop it,” he drawls, stepping into an elevator and turning to point at you. “I don’t wanna hear you say the name Riddle again.”

The elevator dings, the door slides shut on McCollin’s serious face, and you sigh in frustration.

“Riddle?”

Your head lifts in surprise. The voice had come from beside you, a very formally-dressed old man with curated grey hair, gold glasses, and a haughty expression. “Yes, sir…?” you ask slowly.

“Ah yes, a real shame, all that,” the man sighs, looking up at the elevators expectantly.

You blink. You recognise the man from around the Ministry, but you can’t think of a single conceivable reason why a senior member of the International Confederation of Wizards knows the name of a Muggle murdered eight years ago. “…Yes, it was.”

“Such a waste,” he shakes his head sagely. “He could have gone far.”

You don’t know what to say. “You’re… you’re talking about Tom Riddle, sir…?”

“Yes, of course,” the man titters, “Slughorn recommended him to me personally – assured me he’d go far. A real talent, he said.”

Something is definitely not right, but the man’s elevator dings and he steps inside at once, expensive robes swirling as he turns. “To end up in Knockturn Alley of all places,” he sighs, “and to think... the boy could have been Minister for Magic one day.”

The doors shut before your gobsmacked face.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

“So let me get this straight,” Mori says lowly, setting down another drink for you. “You think the kid’s here? In Knockturn Alley?”

“I think so,” you murmur as Mori takes your empty glass away. “Either that or some poor schmuck with the exact same name as a murdered Muggle is walking around completely unrelated to all this shit.”

“Have you found anything on the kid?”

You nod blankly. “Looked up the name and found a ton of stuff straight away – star pupil at Hogwarts, won a ton of awards, Prefect, Head-boy –”

“Sounds like a square,” Mori snorts.

“He fell off the map a bit after school,” you frown, leaning forward on your forearms. “Found an address from a few years back but doesn’t seem up-to-date. The guy definitely mentioned Knockturn Alley though, so –”

“If you told me a name, I’ll probably know him.”

You shoot him a nervous look. “I dunno, Mori, I’m really pissing McCollin off with this already. If he finds out I’m leaking names –”

“Well I’ll tell you this for free, no one down this way’ll take kindly to someone in Ministry robes poking their nose around,” he says darkly.

You sigh and take a sip from your drink. “I know.”

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

You leave just past midnight, giving Mori a wave as you grab your cloak and head for the door, already reaching for your wand to Apparate as you push it open –

You walk straight into someone. “Oh,” you exclaim, stepping back. “I'm so sorry.”

“Not at all.”

You look up at the voice in surprise, smooth and pleasant and velvety. The face behind it is even better; he’s very, very beautiful. Black hair in tidy waves, dark, hooded eyes lined with sooty lashes, full lips, angled jaw, and all his fine features illuminated by the glow from the pub behind you as he pushes the door wide and holds it for you, stepping aside with a polite twist to his lips to let you out first.

If you’d met him anywhere else you might have blushed, but here, now, you have to resist the urge to arch a brow. He’s not exactly what you’d normally expect from customers of Moribund’s.

“Thank you,” you say evenly, stepping past him and rather theatrically hoping he’s not some sort of pretty-faced creature that would strike when your back’s turned –

“You’re from the Ministry?”

You hesitate. His question was perfectly curious and well-warranted – the purple robes you were still wearing were also not what one might normally expect from customers of Moribund’s. “I am,” you say quietly, pulling out your wand.

“Are you here on business or for pleasure?” he smiles a little. It makes him even more beautiful. It makes you more suspicious.

“A bit of both,” you say truthfully, thinking of your conversation with Mori.

“Rather strange for someone of your profession to patron a place like this,” says the young man, head tilting a fraction.

You hesitate for a moment, but if he intends on giving you trouble, it feels like a good idea to establish that you have people looking out for you around here. “I’m friends with the barman.”

“In which case it's odd I’ve not seen you more, then,” he says very smoothly, the little twist to his lips returning, “since I’m something of a regular.”

But you’ve had quite enough. “You’re letting the warmth out,” you say politely, inclining your head at the door he’s still holding open as you lift your wand. “Enjoy your drinks.”

“Would you care to join me?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking back to the young man. His head is still tilted slightly as he watches you, and suddenly you can’t tell if the curl to his lips is more attractive or unnerving.

“I’d very much like the company,” he smiles, white, straight teeth, too handsome, too gorgeous.

Alarm bells are going off in your head. Too smarmy. He knows he’s beautiful, that much was certain, and something about him is giving you the creeps in a way that feels strangely familiar. Like you’ve met him before. “No,” you say clearly, “but thanks for the invitation.”

“Ah, I should have known that someone like you would already be spoken for,” he says with a knowing nod, charming and good-natured.

“No,” you frown. You can’t tell what’s rubbing you the wrong way about him, but there’s something.

His brow lifts slightly, like your response surprised him. “Not a fan of the drink, then?”

You snort a light laugh. “No, I am.”

There’s a beat of silence. “An early morning, perhaps?” the young man says just as lightly – though there’s a very faint edge to his expression that you clock at once. He can’t figure out why you’ve rejected him. What an arrogant asshole…

You sigh a bit shortly, liking him less by the second. “Goodnight,” you say pointedly, trying to lift your wand again but –

“Have I offended you somehow, madam?” he asks, sounding slightly amused. “If I have it wasn’t my intention to do so.”

You shoot him a look that is unapologetically annoyed. “You haven’t offended me, you’ve disrespected me,” you say curtly.

His eyes sparkle, his lips curl even more. “By asking you to join me for a drink?”

“By refusing to take my answer graciously,” you retort smoothly, “I said no. I don’t appreciate being cajoled.”

Some of the humour dissipates from his face, and you seize the opportunity to escape.

“Goodnight.”

And you lift your wand in a swift motion and vanish before he can interrupt again.

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

❶·❷·❸·❹·❺·❻

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#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #harry potter #FIL #dark tom #minific #white dove

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samwritesforyou · 3 years

Text

lantern rite with zhongli

zhongli x reader

summary: you stay in liyue and zhongli wants you to go to the lantern rite with him

warnings: gender-neutral reader

wordcount: 2.2k

A/N: its just zhongli brain rot, can we jsut live our mundane life w him forever??

you were wandering the lands of liyue for a significant amount of time already.

you would’ve usually just camped in the open like you used to do on your adventures in mondstadt - before the knights learned about this and generously offered you an apartment with no rent required - but ever since you mentioned this idea to a powerful god of geo zhongli, he wouldn’t hear of it.

“you are staying over at the wangsheng funeral parlour, y/n,” he said in a serious, low tone that made your stomach twist in ways that you didn’t yet understand.

“what do you mean? i can’t just stay there,” you said in return, brows furrowed.

“there are a few rooms behind the official wing that we use for business and actually me and hu tao live there, we do not have a conventional “home” anywhere,” he rationally explained and continued looking steadily into your eyes.

you never had a problem managing eye contact, but with his piercing amber orbs it was quite difficult.

“zhongli, i-“ you started, looking behind him at the open entrance to the balcony.

it was getting dark already, and even though you were used to camp life, you did notice that wild liyue was rather dangerous to rest at.

“only if you really don’t mind,” you stated with a sigh of defeat, closing your eyes and putting hands on your hips, “but i’ll pay.”

“dear y/n, i simply won’t allow it,” he said and you felt his gloved fingers on your chin and opened your eyes immediately, meeting with his.

a mysterious smile played on his lips, “you can just invite me to a meal, this form of payment will be sufficient,” when he saw a blush creeping up your face, he let go of you, standing straight again and clearing his throat, becoming flustered himself and looking away.

“alright,” was all that you could muster to answer in a higher tone than usual.

and there began an era of you living with hu tao and zhongli for the course of weeks that stretched into months as you tried to scout out the eternity of liuye’s landscape, hopelessly looking for your lost sibling.

most days you’d come back to your new home exhausted and just plop on the couch in front of the kitchen isle, already seeing some food left on the counter for your arrival.

you were never sure if it was hu tao’s making or zhongli’s, but that question was answered tonight, as you saw geo archon finishing up tonight’s dish - slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup - not even paying attention to your shuffling in the room.

you felt grateful yet a bit guilty that you made zhongli do something for you every day this late.. sometimes you wouldn’t return until the morning and even then you found a warm plate of breakfast on the counter.

you didn’t have much free time to get to know zhongli better, but even so you two have become an acquaintances of sorts. someone could even say.. friends.

a few times during your stay you were persuaded to take a break and took a few evening walks alongside rex lapis, your conversation making you feel at ease and understood.

if only you’d have more time to just.. do nothing, then you’d even..

you were staring at his broad back for quite a while already as he was cooking, no official costume present, just a simple comfortable shirt that gave you more of a feeling how home-y you have become with him.

it felt natural to come home and see him, either reading a book or just sliding the door to his room open to say a gentle “goodnight” or ask a few questions about your day.

you really liked him. you clicked as personalities, he was interesting, handsome-

“are you here?” you suddenly felt a gentle single tap on the top of your head, as zhongli’s voice brought you back to reality from your thoughts.

from the thoughts that you shouldn’t be having, because there’s no way that something would ever happen between the two of you.

so you shook your head and then smiled at him wearily.

“yeah. sorry, a long day,” you said silently and looked at two plates that were now sitting at the table.

“i wanted to dine with you tonight, is that alright?” he asked and looked up at you with his amber eyes.

“of course!” you nodded and then looked down at the table, “and thank you.. for always making food for me.”

“oh, it’s nothing. hu tao said that since you’re our guest i don’t have to worry about using more ingredients for food than we do usually,” he then began to eat.

as you dug in into your dish as well a comfortable silence has settled in the room.

it was always like this with him.

comfortable, safe.

you wondered how he’s gonna react when you tell him you’ll probably have to leave soon.

maybe it’s a good time to bring it up, even though it’ll ruin the moment of peace.

you mulled over the idea for a few minutes and couldn’t find any way of saying it the way you wanted it to sound, so you just started;

“uhm.. i think i’ll go back to mondstadt.”

ever so composed zhongli literally choked on his food and coughed a few times, steadying his posture once more, brows furrowing, not meeting your eyes.

“why so sudden?” he just asked simply.

“well… i don’t think i have any luck here.. and i’d love to move to the next region, but i wanted to talk it over with other knights beforehand, just to be safe,” you answered and sighed.

it’s not like you wanted to leave.

“that is a good choice indeed,” he stated, but you sensed that he wasn’t pleased by your “choice” at all, “but why won’t you stay just a few days longer?”

he finally finished up his food, gently patted his lips with a cloth and put it aside, now meeting your gaze.

“there is a lantern rite festival in the end of the week and..” seems like zhongli was trying to pick the right words, which was unusual of him, “i was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“oh,” you have heard about the event scarcely, but didn’t pay it any mind, knowing that you’d probably have no time to enjoy it anyways.

“your sibling is out there somewhere, i believe in it,” zhongli didn’t even let you speak, which was twice as unusual of him, as if he was already trying to persuade you even before hearing your verdict upon the matter, “and i wanted to offer you my help. i finally have no rites of parting to arrange and am quite free of any work that was holding me back before,” and as an afterthought he continued, “and i think you really deserve some rest, y/n. i’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying to find your sibling, help the adventurers guild.. it’s only natural and fair for you to take some rest and replenish your energy.”

you were frozen in place with a spoon half-risen to your mouth already, unable to tear your eyes from him as he finished his monologue.

you were used to him talking about the past events or fond memories for a long time, but it was never addressed directly at you.

so you just looked down and started intensely finishing up your soup, trying not to think about the way you’re probably blushing right now.

and once you did and looked back at zhongli, he was sitting composed in front of you, light smile resting on his lips.

“i’ll stay then,” you nodded and smiled at him back, his expression growing softer at your words.

“thank you,” he mirrored your nod and then took the dishes - even after your protests - and started cleaning them up himself.

you were so glad you decided to stay. last few days were filled with you just walking around the city and outskirts alongside zhongli as you were finally able to relax a bit and push a pressing matter of finding your sibling for a few days later.

the lantern rite day grew near and it was already happening in the evening. for some reason hu tao insisted of pampering you up and didn’t let zhongli see you until the event started.

“why are you like this?” you ask tiredly hu tao as she was helping you to put on a classic chinese dress that was worn both by men and women (and everyone in between) in this festive time.

“you think i don’t see how you’re staring at each other?” she giggled as she started rummaging through her hair pins that would look good on you.

“each other?!” you yelped in confusion, only to be met with a flustered reflection of yourself in a mirror in front of you, so you dropped your shoulders and sighed, lowering your gaze, “if anything, it’s only me who’s staring, hu tao..”

“ha!” the laugh was more similar to a bark as she reacted to your words and soon enough appeared next to you, putting a pin to your bangs, adding your hair a little decorative twist, “that’s what you think.”

you didn’t have any time to protest to that, because you heard a knock on the door and hu tao yelled “don’t you dare come in, old man!” right back.

“i just wanted to inform you two that the festival has already begun,” said a calm muffled voice outside and you found yourself smiling at that.

“okay, we’re almost done!” said hu tao and finally helped you stand up, letting you look at yourself in the mirror.

you really looked exceptional tonight and couldn’t hold your positive emotions bubbling inside of you.

“thank you,” you said to hu tao and hugged her tightly.

she just giggled and murmured something along the lines of “don’t mention it” and went with you out of the room, straight onto the balcony in front of the wangsheng funeral parlour.

your eyes found zhongli immediately as he turned and looked at you.

he gave a polite nod to his friend and then his amber orbs drifted to you and his expression broke into something way softer than you’ve ever witnessed before.

only after a while you realised that your festival dresses were matching. yours was just in lighter, yellow tones, whereas his was in dark brown ones. it complemented each other perfectly.

you didn’t really notice how it happened, but you two ended up alone, just walking on the outskirts of liyue harbour, after participating in many festival activities.

you were standing on the hidden viewpoint where you could see the whole city, beautifully lit up, yet where you were standing there were scarcely any lamps, so the atmosphere was dim and comfortable.

zhongli was the first one to break the pleasant silence between the two of you.

“i dont want to be straightforward,” he started as he stood next to you, his hand on the railing of the balcony, “but i’m afraid i just have to share my feelings with you, y/n.”

you looked up at him, question in your eyes.

could it be?..

“i don’t usually take interest in humans, but.. it’s safe to say you drew me in and left me enchanted,” words were rolling off his tongue effortlessly, “by your driven heart, pure intentions and determination,” he paused a little and then chuckled to himself, “kind of remind me of myself, back in the day.”

with his free hand he reached out to yours, and took it in his palm, squeezing a little;

“i’m not immune to human weaknesses either.

and my guess is that i’m certainly not immune to your charm.”

he then brought your hand to his lips and gave it a light kiss, eyes trained on you.

“so if you accept me, then i’d be happy to court and protect you,” he finished his speech more quietly than he began and now was just politely waiting for your response.

for the rest of your life, if you allow me; he thought to himself, but these kinds of words are still too heavy for you to bear, he settles and doesnt say the rest of his initial sentence.

he came to accept that his lovers will come and go, since he is an immortal being, but it won’t stop him from giving his all to his loved ones.

“zhongli..” you said with trembling lips, as you tried your hardest not to cry.

you were falling in love with him slowly day by day, not even realising it and you’d never even think of him reciprocating your feelings and now it simply feels too overwhelming. in a good way, of course.

“is that a yes?” he squeezed your hand once more, his smile growing wider and eyes softer.

“of course,” you sniffed and pushed yourself into his embrace, not willing to let him see you cry, at least not yet.

you felt his heartbeat in your hug and you swear you never wanted to let go anymore.

“thank you,” he said gently and you felt his lips pressing to the top of your head.

you really chose the best man to fall in love with. ////// if you wanna be added to my genshin (or any other fandom) tag list then please either comment or dm me! also my requests are open so feel free to text me that as well, if you’d like <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #rex lapis x reader #zhongli #rex lapis #genshin #genshin zhongli #genshin fanfiction

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heybeybey · 3 years

Text

You should be killing titans Levi

Happy Smutty Saturday everyone. I actually promised angst but the plot I have in mind for that one might need a few more weeks because my mind is melting.

Anyway, have crack instead feat. Levi getting horny over a titan. Man just can't catch a break.

And no, the sex happens in Petra's human form. Please, I'm not that fucked up yet 😭

Summary: Petra somehow acquired the Cart Titan during canon events and Levi, whose sole purpose in the past few years was to kill titans, finds himself simping over one.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Romance, Humor, Crack

Words: 2,480

---

When Petra emerged from her titan form the first time, the only thing Levi thought about was her safety. Sure, they'd seen that Eren was perfectly fine, albeit a bit knocked out of it. But the idea of humans controlling titans is still pretty new to their own little world. As Petra's captain, of course he'd do whatever he can to protect his subordinates.

They tested out her abilities in the limited time they have until the next expedition. Hange, the mad bitch that they are, would be the one doing and leading the experiments while his squad oversees. Frankly, him and the three other guys think it's more to protect Petra from Hange's crazy ideas.

So, it was the same as usual. As far as usual can get when it comes to the Survey Corps, that is. Petra was still in his team and surprisingly, nothing changed in their relationship as captain and subordinate.

Everything only shifted when he'd seen her in action during her first expedition as a titan shifter.

He honestly thinks that her titan form is ugly as fuck. It was even uglier than Yeager's. However, seeing the fire in its eyes, in her amber eyes that is just so Petra had left him a little bit awestruck. Her titan has the same ginger hair and he shouldn't be thinking this, because he's looking at a titan, but is it shining when the light hits her tresses? He feels his mouth go dry as Petra's titan shields an injured scout from two abnormals, before making a move to kill them by biting off their napes.

She lands back on the ground, re-assembling herself in their usual scouting formation.

Fuck.

"Levi? Are you okay?" Erwin pipes up once they're all in the clear.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Erwin?"

Erwin, that bastard, only gives him a slow smirk in return.

"I hope that won't be much of a hindrance then," Erwin says, gesturing down. Levi glances down and only realizes now why his pants have started to tighten. The fact that he's currently riding a horse isn't doing him any favors.

---

There was this one time when Hange wanted to test how long the younger girl can retain her titan form and they found out that she can go on for months. He'd have to admit that he misses actually seeing Petra's face but even Levi found her titan's strength impressive.

Until she started crawling around in her human form.

He finds her crawling one afternoon and Levi feels that familiar heat flare up inside him as he takes in the curve of her back and ass. His eyes would sometimes stray there during trainings but he'd never expected her backside to be this round and full. The fact that she's currently in a dress that reaches just below her knee is only making this worse. He swallows when he sees a hint of exposed skin of her thigh and if he could bunch up her dress further, it would be so easy to just take her right now.

Levi's hand twitches, and he repeatedly needed to remind himself that touching his subordinate is considered harassment.

"What the fuck are you doing, Petra!?"

"Oh, hi captain!" Petra flushes in embarrassment, trying to push herself up against the wall but fails every time. She almost hit her head once, if Levi hadn't stepped in and helped her up himself.

"I'm sorry," She says, clinging to him. Levi, mortified that another inch closer would mean she'll feel the rising enthusiasm below his belt, tries to discreetly move his lower part away. "I didn't know this is a side effect of being in my titan form for too long. I'm actually on my way to tell Hange about it."

"Side effect?"

Petra only blushes deeper. "My body... might've forgotten how to walk properly since I've been on all fours for so long."

Levi can feel his brain short-circuiting when she said the words all fours. His brain started supplying him with an image of her on all fours in his own bedroom floor, of how he would bend her over and make her suck his-

"Hey Petra!" Thank fucking god. He'd never been so glad to have Hange around. "Gunther said you were coming to see me?"

Wanting to get everything over with completely (so he can run to his room and deal with his rising erection), he hoisted Petra up in his arms instead, leading to her wrapping her own arms around his neck. A blush tinges her soft round cheeks and he tries to avoid looking down at her, knowing that she's staring up at him in wonder.

He'd noticed this with Petra whenever they're physically close together, of how she'd be in a sort of trance whenever he'd subconsciously tuck a strand behind her ear or when she'd lean down to set his tea on his office table and he really shouldn't be thinking of this right now when he was just thinking of fucking her if Hange hadn't barged in.

Once she's settled in Hange's lab, Four Eyes took that moment to turn to Levi.

"Now you know how I feel whenever I see titans," Hange says.

"What." Horror starts to rise in Levi's chest when he realizes their implication, but only his disgust shines through his face.

"What?" Hange answers back, acting as if what they just said was a normal statement.

---

That same afternoon, Levi demanded from the medical team that they better provide him a crutch right fucking now or he won't be responsible for the injuries he'll be causing on the inhabitants of the room.

He hurriedly gives it to Petra, harshly ordering her that she is not to crawl around like that ever again for the sake of her dignity. Deep down, he knows it's to save his.

---

He tried to avoid being alone with Petra in her titan form in the coming months. Actually, he avoided being alone with her completely, even when she's out of her titan. But it's a Friday night and all the other scouts have been given time off, with some of them already packed up to go home for the weekend to see their family.

Petra, on the other hand, had no choice but to stay until further notice. She could barely leave the building unless either Levi, Eld, Gunther or Oluo is with her.

He sees her alone right now outside since Hange wanted to test if Petra can stay up all night in this form. The sun will rise up in a few hours, and he thinks this is more than enough time to indulge Four-Eyes in their curiosity.

"Captain?" It always catches him off guard whenever Petra speaks in her titan form. Her voice was so different from the sweet and cheerful tone he'd gotten used to greeting him in the morning.

"Couldn't sleep."

She's currently lying down, hands tucked under her titan's chin and it endearingly reminds him of a ginger cat curled up and poised to sleep. He noticed how Petra's eyes reveals just how bored she is, staring only straight ahead.

"Aren't you tired?" Levi asks, leaning his body against the side of Petra's titan form. Feeling the titan's bare skin almost made him flinch because he knows it's Petra. He shouldn't be thinking of his subordinate naked right now but her titan form isn't helping at all.

"Levi... are you actually getting attracted to a titan?" Erwin had asked him once, amusement coloring the blonde man's features, when he caught Levi staring at Petra's titan form during one of her experiments with Hange. "Maybe I shouldn't have allowed you to be around Hange too much."

"Are you on some drugs, Erwin?" Levi snaps, but can't help the thumping in his chest and the rising panic because of course Erwin would catch on eventually. "Are you getting too smart that that brain of yours actually rotted and died in a shithole?"

Petra only shakes her head. "I'm all good, captain. Besides, Hange tells me I can take the day off to rest tomorrow. Still can't leave the barracks though."

Levi tries to avoid cringing at hearing her titan's voice. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to it. "Can you not talk to me while you're using that voice? Get out of there." He orders.

Petra, always obedient and willing to please her captain, did get out of her titan. She struggled with detaching her hands as usual and Levi sighs, making a move to climb up and help her.

Before he gets the chance to do so, Petra was able to pull herself out abruptly but the force was enough to send her flying to the ground.

Levi's reflexes was fast enough to try and cushion her fall but the angle wasn't right for him to catch her properly, and Petra ends up landing on top of Levi and both of the groan at the impact.

Levi thinks that his erection must really hate him. It already betrayed him once during a fucking expedition. It's rising again now as Petra shuffles around in an attempt to stand up, muttering a string of sorry captain! and I didn't mean to, her every action brushing further against his dick.

"Stop it, Petra!" He shouts, panic almost tinging his voice. Petra freezes at his voice and Levi thinks that maybe he shouldn't have asked her to stop moving because now, his dick is directly against her thigh and she'll eventually feel everything.

He watches as confusion passes through Petra's face, before it shifts to shock when she finally realizes what was pressing against her thigh, eventually settling on a coy smile.

They stared at each other a little longer before this minx actually found the courage to intentionally press her thigh down further. Levi finally allows his pent up lust and frustration to blow over, growling as he grabs Petra's hair to pull her down for a bruising kiss.

---

When Petra mentioned that she's getting a whole Saturday off to rest, he's pretty sure this wasn't how Hange instructed the younger girl to spend her day.

He already came once after she enthusiastically sucked him off. He could only watch in a daze as Petra took him as far as she could, almost intentionally choking herself on his own cock. He's surprised at how much of an absolute freak Petra is, insisting that she's going to swallow every last drop of him even when he tried to push her away for her sake.

Now, she's settling herself on his bed, on all fours, and Levi's pretty sure he's going to die before this day ends. He palms her ass, giving a squeeze as he feels her up, before kneeling behind her to deliver hot kisses down her spine. Petra shivers when he pulls on her hips to draw her closer.

"I wanted to rail you so bad the past few weeks, Petra." He whisper against her skin, hand trailing down to start playing with her clit. "Fuck, your experiments with Four Eyes only made it worse."

"Take me like this then, captain." She says in the filthiest voice she could muster, grinding her ass up firmly against his clothed erection and opening her legs further for him. From the naughty smirk that she's giving him, Levi finally realizes that she'd already known just what has been running on his mind the past few weeks.

He can see her core glistening, half from when he'd fucked her with his tongue earlier on and half from her eagerness and anticipation to have him inside her as soon as possible.

He tears his underwear away, wasting no time in breaching her wet core. Petra moans wantonly, curving her lower back further so she can push her ass up to pull him inside of her more.

How can someone who sounds and looks and acts so sweet be such a fucking slut in bed? he thinks in a daze as he starts pounding inside her.

It was a tight fit and Petra grabs one of his hands to push his palm up against her breast. Levi was all too eager to indulge in her fantasies, thumbing down her erect nipple and squeezing as he gives a hard thrust.

When he hits the spot inside her just right, that's when they both fasten their pace. Petra braced her arms against the sheets, head falling down and forehead resting against the soft bed as she takes everything that Levi gives her.

She comes first, grabbing a pillow to catch a moan that's bordering a scream. Levi revels in the feeling of her tightening around him and after Petra says yes, I can take birth control come inside me, captain please, he didn't even think. He just lets himself go and Petra moans further as he releases hotly inside her.

Petra slacks down on the bed with him following, his bare and sweaty chest against her back. He rolls away after he'd caught his breath, and Petra giggles from contentment and ecstasy.

Her giggles shoot straight down to his cock and Levi finds himself starting to harden again. She squeaks a bit when she feels his growing erection against her ass before smirking, a challenging glint on her amber eyes as she finally turns to face him.

No words were needed to be spoken and she tempts him by throwing a toned leg over his middle, inching her skin closer to his crotch.

Needless to say, Petra found herself on her back, knees almost touching her shoulders as the captain made sure she kept her legs open for each of his thrusts.

After that round, Levi could only exhaustedly lie on his back afterwards. His mind is still swimming after orgasming for the third time in a row.

He was about to ask her if she'd like to take a shower first before they sleep, only for Petra to roll herself on top of him. She started peppering kisses along his jaw and neck, making it a point to grind her exposed nipples against the hard lines of his chest.

"Fuck, again?"

"Didn't Hange tell you that the cart titan has amazing endurance?" Petra leans in, a coy smile on her lips. "I can go on for hours, captain."

#rivetra #levi x petra #petra x levi #rivapeto #rivapet #this is the stupidest idea ive ever had #semi crack #almost crack #the sex isn't THAT freaky dont worry ahahaha

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driedmarigolds · 3 years

Text

Red carnations

Its me, ya boi....back at it again with....a Vyn fic. I've gotten severe Tears of Themis brain rot. Well anyway. Feel free to kudos on Ao3 if you like! Link to the fic on ao3 Pairing: MC x Vyn Richter Series: Tears of Themis Rating: T Word Count: 1800

Sitting in his study, Vyn felt strangely lonely. It wasn’t like him to miss anyone, but it had been more than two weeks since he last spoke to Rosa due to another large case that needed all hands on deck at the Themis office. Even so, he couldn’t help but almost ache from her absent; whenever she crossed his mind, his chest would tighten. He was far past accepting that these were new feelings in his life and it wasn’t the mysticism of ‘Love at first sight’. Still, the ache that accompanied these feelings was something he was struggling to get used to. So unique and admirably was she, that he struggled to stand in her blinding light some days, and yet much light a moth to the flame he would do so anyway. A few scorch marks on his heart was nothing compared to the valued time he had with Rosa.

The last time they were together they had gone to the local gardens to see the freshly Bloomed Carnations before going to dinner at a spot Rosa was sure he would love. He barely remembered the food, but the Blooms were so vivid in his mind because he couldn’t help but remember how wonderful they matched her. How it seemed like every flower in the garden only accented her beauty. Vyn remembered that he also bought her a bouquet of the Red Carnations because he knew it would be the last time they would see each other for at least a week and he thought they would remind her of him.

That raised a question he had tormented himself with again. Did she think of him often? By now Vyn was willing to wager that she did think of him, but to what end? For how long? How often? He wanted to know every part of her thoughts and feelings, every inch of her heart and while it was so easy to read what she felt on her face, he wanted to know specifics to hear her voice say it. She knew in so many words the contents of his heart; something he spilled in front of Wayne, but he wasn’t so sure she trusted him to be so open nor believed it was real even when he had explained it to her. He craved her trust.

With a sigh, Vyn shook such thoughts from his head, returning his attention to the patient file before him, much like her, he also needed to do more work. An excellent distraction from the aching absence of his ‘special one.’

----

It was after several hours of focus when Vyn’s phone rang, pulling him out of his current task to see the name pop up on the screen; much to his joy it read ‘Rosa’. Again his chest squeeze as he answered her call. “Rosa? Hello.” His tone was even and pleasant, though it was probably hard to miss the undertone of relieved.

“Dr. Richter! Hello! I haven’t talked to you in a while, but we just finished! We won the trail!” Vyn was taking in the excitement in her voice, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile. Though he had so desperately missed her, she was happy and that was almost worth it to him; he couldn’t help but wish that he was the cause of the happiness. “Can we meet up?” He heard the pause in her voice before continuing. “I mean, if you’re not busy. Sorry I should have asked that first.” The smile was quickly replaced with a slight frown. She never needed to ask—rarely was he too busy for her, for anyone else? He was too busy but never for Rosa.

“I am not busy.” He pushed the file off to the side with his freshly written notes. “I would like to see you again, perhaps, since it is dinner time I could come over and we could get take out from some place that you like?” Vyn would have offered to take her out somewhere, but he wanted to monopolize her from the rest of the world for a moment. Everyone else got to see her, now it was his turn. “I have a gift for you.”

“Huh? A gift?” He could hear the surprise, which was another success to him. He enjoyed pulling all different emotions from her. “You didn’t have to do that! Just hanging out is nice!” Her voice sounded far away for a moment, quickly he realized it meant she was switching ears.

“I did not have too, that is correct. I wanted to.” Vyn stood from his desk, stretching his back. “If you are home, I can come over now so we can decide what we would like to eat.” Pleased, when there was a hum of agreement on the other end of the line. “Then I will be there as soon as I can be. See you, Rosa.” Hanging up the phone, he gathered the gift he had made for Rosa before heading out.

---

It was sometimes later when Vyn knocked on Rosa’s door, which she opened immediately with a smile so bright it lit up his world. “Dr. Richter, you made it.” Stepping back, she let him into the room. Quickly, he took off his shoes and turned towards her wondering if she thought he might not come. Of course he would, he always would.

“I did, indeed.” He smiled at her—hoping that she felt the warmth he constantly felt with her. After a moment of just admiring her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small hair clip that looked hand made. It had a red carnation on it, much like the ones in the garden they had visited although a little more crude. Still, her eyes lit up as she looked at it despite her earlier protests that he didn’t need to do that.

“It’s beautiful, Dr. Richter! Now I have two hair clips from you that I can wear.” Once again, success—she was happy, and it was all because of him.

“Here, let me put it into your hair.” Vyn stepped closer to Rosa, gently, tenderly, lovingly running his fingers through the strands for as long as he could get away with before pinning the clip in place. His hand slid down to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheek bone. This was a little more daring before; he hadn’t shied away from touch—but never so intimate and….electric. But it was as soft as he had found himself imagining a time or two. He could tell she didn’t know what to do as her cheeks turned progressively darker, he breath almost stopping completely. Perhaps he had pushed too far this time. With a small chuckle, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Yes, well—What would you like to order to eat?”

That seemed to jolt her back into a working brain, thought I was obvious she was a little shy and nervous now. “Right, sorry. I..Uhm, maybe from that family restaurant?” Rosa was avoiding eye contact, but she didn’t seem mad so that was enough for Vyn. “The one we, ah…” She was digging through her pockets, presumably for her phone. “The one we went too before.” The one where we had been mistaken for a couple. He remembered clearly, there was a level of Euphoria that came with that whole situation, even if he had be...anxious? Though anxious might not have been the right word.

---

“I think that would be good.” He leaned in, the glow from the evening sun reflecting in his golden eyes, radiating a kindness and affection Rosa couldn’t recall seeing before. Never had she realized that as cold as those eyes could get, they could get so equally warm. Her heart was faltering from nerves. Usually, Rosa felt calm in Dr. Richter’s presence, but when he got so close like this—though this was closer than he had ever been, she felt both like she was floating on air, and sinking into the ground. He made her feel things she simply wasn’t used to. It was….difficult, and she wasn’t entirely sure what any of it meant, but Artem’s warning to keep it business was always in the back of her mind—even if it were far too late for any of that.

“Right, I will call. I think they do delivery, if not walking would be nice.” Yes, fresh air would be good right now. “Actually, why don’t we just walk over and order there and bring it back?” Her phone was up in her hand, almost as if it was shielding her from his intense and potentially unearned affection. She still hadn’t pulled part what all of that with Wayne meant. “It’s a really nice evening and I have been locked in the office for a while.” Hopefully, he would bite.

“That can be done, but are you sure you want to walk? I’m worried you might be tired from over working.” Really, he just wanted to stay here, the two of them but he was willing to relent if he must, and it seemed he must when she nodded and put her phone back in her pocket. It was a shame, but he wouldn’t ruin her fun for his own selfishness.

“Yes, I think it would be nice to take a walk with you.” Rosa had already gone to slide her shoes on and grab a light coat that wouldn’t overly heat her but would be nice in the evening breeze. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to go on a walk with you for a while so it’s perfect; one stone and all of that.” She laughed, finally relaxing again.

Vyn smiled at her with admiration, the smile on her face was worth pushing his own desires deeper down and it’s not like they were going to be away from her home all night, just for a little bit and then he could have her all to himself again. Sliding on his own shoes, he followed her outside and waited for her to lock the door behind them. Satisfied that it was locked, Rosa turned to Dr. Richter with a nod before turning to walk in the direction of the Restaurant. Vyn walked next to her, letting the silence of the calm evening settle over them—pondering over what had made him so bold earlier; not that there was any regrets at all. Perhaps he was simply bursting at the emotional seams. No matter, he was here with her now, and nothing could stop the joy creeping through is heart. Like the vines from misplaced Ivy, she was growing into the cracks in his foundation, and he found it harder and harder to mind.

#tears of themis fic #tears of themis #vyn x mc #vyn richter #my wrting

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infernalshadowtheif · 3 years

Text

Synthetic Blood

After taking over her father's company, Lena Luthor spends her time trying to develop a safe man made synthetic blood for medical science and maybe for herself and her kind too of course. You see, Lena is technically human but she is also technically a vampire, well more of a half vampire that's more or less human except for her extra abilities and vitality. As she tries to develop a Blood substitute her brother Lex attempts to steer her away from the light and back down a dark path that has always beckoned her to walk down.

[Look, vampires are kinda cool and I've been meaning to finish this idea that I literally dreamed about last year so let me know if you guys like it, hate it, or have ideas for it yeah? I'll post it on Ao3 later.] Words: 3,036K 🙃

Lillian took the cold metal brush handle in her hand, making it up to her hair, and started to brush through the already smooth tresses of hair on Lena's head.

"On to more pressing matters, it seems we won't be hunting for a while, seeing that the humans are now more aware of our kind since your brother started his little war with the Kryptonians." The aimless brushing continued a bit rougher than before but not painful.

"How are we to feed then mother, how are you going to feed? I am obviously already prepared but I know you prefer straight from the source." There was a slight hesitation in the last stroke of the cold brush.

Lillian set it down slowly almost methodically as she turned away and towards the moonlit window behind them.

Lena looked after the older woman cautiously.

"Mother?" Wearily she stood from the vanity mirror and closer to Lillian’s side.

She received a click of a tongue as an answer before she sighed.

"I hated how it reeked on his body, your father I mean, I hated how the smell of artificial blood was always stuck to him, it reminded me of that awful white meat substitute that some humans love in place of real meat."

"Tofu mother," Lena added helpfully as Lillian sneered further at the window and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

"Yes, that was it. He always smelled of his fake blood, you already adopted his tendencies to not want to drink from the source of what we need to survive, which is fine but I’ll never understand it." She turned her head to Lena almost puzzled.

“Well mother I know that this situation will be harder but I’ll try and figure something out for us. I'm sure I can maybe synthesize something more to your preferences if need be."

Lillian wasn't the warmest parent compared to most others but after Lex went on with his blood-war with the aliens, she saw that Lena was more stable than she originally thought, especially compared to her son. So through great effort and shattered pride, she tried her best to bridge the gap between her and her daughter as best as she could, trying to make up for years of neglect and misplaced scorn.

With a defeated sigh Lillian finally turned to look at her youngest,

"Thank you, dear, I know you'll try no matter how many times I say I'll be fine. I just want you to use that brilliant brain of yours for more than just little old me, I'm content with the choices and endless amount of repenting I have waiting for me when it's time." Lillian never smiled at Lena, at least not often, especially as a child, but the one she gave her at that moment was the best one she'd ever seen.

“I think we all do mother. Thank you for taking care of me and letting me wait out the sun for today, I lost track of time again.” Lena lightly skims her thumb over the still healing blemish on her arm, if she were a full vampire like the rest of the Luthors in her family she would have lost it or simply turned to dust as her father did.

“Any time dear, this is still your home too, no matter what your brother claims.”

Lena almost cries, such simple words that her past self would have never dreamed of hearing from the woman before her, Lena simply nods in acknowledgment and heads back out to her car to get back to her apartment.

The drive back to National City is quiet, the long highway back lets her mind playback the hellish day she had, to say she’s dreading the minute she has to see the cities resident Super would be an understatement.

She saw me, I know she saw what I’m capable of. Or at least that I'm definitely NOT human.

Lena’s thoughts turn darker as she imagines the red-caped hero’s look of repulsion and utter hate when she does truly figure out that she’s a creature of the dark, or, at least half of one.

Her mind spirals further down the dark hole of fear of what she will do with her, so much so that she missed the new set of headlights quickly coming closer in her side-view mirror.

When it finally caught enough to slam into her back bumper she quickly snaps out of it and tries to keep her own car on the road and away from the sheer drop of the mountainside to her right.

“Fuck! Now, what!?” The vehicle sways again as the car behind her clashes into hers, she took one of her more pedestrian cars today so her usual horsepower she’d use to escape is severely lacking this time as another hit on her life is in motion again this week.

So much for going incognito.

The shattering of her rear window makes her jump, the side of her car slamming right into the metal railing, seeing the lack of ground on the other side has her heart drop right into her stomach as she tries to get control again.

Big nope to that.

Another pop was registered in Lena’s brain as she finally lost control of her car, her vision spinning just as quickly as the car itself.

“Fuckfuckfuck! I swear, I'm going to stake you myself when I deal with your pets, Lex!” Sweating out of panic, Lena decides that trying to outspeed them won’t happen while in her brick ford car, she figures that she just might have to use some of her power for this one.

Her car makes a sudden stop as the front end crashes through the metal railing at the edge of the road, she was lucky the car became wedged into the twisted metal otherwise she would have had a very unfortunate freefall over the cliff.

Dizzyingly, Lena pries her hands from the steering wheel, her death grip making her bones ache as she tried for her seatbelt next. The sound of car doors slamming shut jumpstarts her heartrate, flooding her system with adrenaline.

The shadows in the headlights get closer, the sound of a gun reloading, four sets of boots crunching on gravel as they round her car on both sides.

She is actually scared now, her right shoulder twinges painfully as she tries to rip out the buckle of her seatbelt, “Ah, shit.” They actually hit her it seems, her white blouse is starting to bleed red down her arm the more she struggles on the belt.

A balding man crouches down into her window, his eyes are glazed over, his face is twisted into a sickening grin. “Hello halfy,” He sneers. “Your big brother wanted us to check in on you this fine night, he was deathly worried for your health as of late.”

His gaze snaps to her bloody shoulder fixated on it for a second or so as he takes a deep breath of warm fresh blood, his dull eyes start to pool red as he takes another lung full of bloody air.

Lena shudders in disgust tilting her face away from his, he reeks of death and rot, ghouls were her least favorite creature that her brother had in his employ.

“Enjoying ourselves are we?” She mutters as his eyes roll open again.

He hums in delight. “He did say your blood was more or less mortal, it's almost humanly sweet.” his smile widens, some kind of old meat seemingly stuck in his teeth and gums as he appraises the state of her and her battered car. “Shame you didn't drive your nicer car, we could have stripped it for parts, but ah, oh well. We’re only here for you tonight then sadly.”

A creaking noise shook the car as he ripped her driver’s door clean off its hinges, Lenas heightened smell was shocked by a wall of death the bald man oozed when he leaned in to free her of her seatbelt and dragged her out of the car by the scruff of her blouse.

Still dazed and newly freed from the metal deathtrap, Lena saw this as her last chance to try and escape from her brother’s lackeys. “I may smell human but by no means does that mean that I’m weak like one.” Latching onto the ghoul’s arm with shaking hands, Lena uses his own weight to counterbalance them both into the loose dirt and flipped herself over again to grab for his throat. She hates to use it but her power has to be used now before what little blood she does drink wears off and leaves her completely defenseless, she’ll have to kill him quickly.

His body starts to convulse as she uses her hand to tear into his fragile throat, black rotten blood oozing over her fingers as his body finally stops thrashing about. She’s still aware of the three heartbeats of the other goons as she finally stands up, her glowing eyes lock onto a man with mousy brown hair, his own eyes are terrified. They all are.

These ones are all human, two are just boys compared to her own age, and they’re all frozen stock still like rabbits to a fox.

Lena is shaking, she doesn’t kill humans, she won’t stoop to her brother’s level. “Leave, go home and forget about this whole night, I don't want to kill any of you. This man was not human, he likely would have eaten you all after my death so take this as an act of mercy. Please.”

The youngest is seems to want no part so he tossed down his weapon and dragged the other two back to their vehicle, the older ones still frozen and staring at the rapidly decaying body of the now-dead ghoul. “Let’s get the hell out of here guys!”

The car ripped out and back onto the highway leaving a wobbly and drained Lena in the dust, “Ugh!” She shrieks in anger as she kicks the rotten body in her rage.

Before she can take out more of her frustration on the dead ghoul she hears a familiar chime of her phone’s ringtone, or more specifically, Karas ringtone.

“Shit. Movie night, I was supposed to be at Karas tonight.” Grumbling as she whipped her bloody hand on her jeans, she bent over to pick up her cracked phone to answer her friend.

“Lena?” Lena sighed, “Hi Kara, I'm sorry for not calling you back, I seem to have run into some car trouble on my way to yours.” Glancing over to her clearly totaled car she winced at the sight of it, “Well more like it's completely totaled now.”

On Karas’s end of the line, she heard a crash and rushing of footsteps, “Ohmygosh! Are you okay Lena?? Where are you, I can come to get you or send my friend to help? Please tell me you’re okay..”

The brunette felt her eyes well up with tears, she really didn't deserve this human known as Kara Danvers, she really didn't.

“I'm off of creek falls and the main highway near the cliff drop, I'm no worse for wear sort of, I'm standing on my own two feet at the moment so I’d say ok, for now anyway, I definitely need a shower and a lot of sleep after this though.” Lena tried to joke but didn't hear Kara anymore, just a rush of air against the microphone.

Confused Lena checks the line, “Kara? Are you still there?”

“Y-yeah Lena I'm still here, um, please don't be mad." Now that made Lena pause. "What? Why would I be mad at you?"

The wind in the earpiece lighted up a bit, "I'm almost there, I'm picking you up, I called Alex she'll be on her way too okay? Was there another car involved or an animal run across the road?" Panic gripped at Lena, Kara can't see this mess! Let alone the rotting ghoul body at her feet, she wouldn't understand!

"Kara, wait, it’s alright I already called the authorities and everything, it'll take a bit but I'm fine right now, also don't drive while on the phone! I don't want to be the cause of yet another accident tonight." Lena hear Kara scoff into the phone, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm definitely not driving, I don't even have a permit." She chuckled at her own expense.

Another pause.

"I'll be fine, just promise not to be mad when you see me? Yelling is fine but don't hate me, please." Anxiety wasn't a common thing for Lena but right now she can feel it clawing up her throat and she swallowed down her guilt of having her sweet fragile Kara seeing what her own monstrous hands are capable of.

She trusts Kara with her life, she'll have to trust her with her dark secret now. "Only if you promise me the same, it’s a mess over here and I'm certain that it'll be horrific for you to see why."

Kara hummed in thought for a second, "Well duh, I could never hate you Lena, or any other bad emotion towards you really." She said carefully like if she said it louder Lena wouldn't believe her.

"Ah wait, I think I see you? Oh." Kara whispered then the line went dead.

Lena was sitting hunched against her busted car, looking around confused at the lack of vehicle, Kara nowhere in sight. Letting out a ragged breath Lena let her head fall back with her eyes closed, praying that Kara would listen to her explain the scene before her.

The brunette’s eyes snapped open when she felt a warm hand on her good shoulder, to say she almost shit a brick would be putting it very lightly because right before her was Supergirl, but in Kara Danvers' sweats, T-shirt, and a very red cape with no socks or shoes to top it all off. Being shocked would be a very light word for how Lena is at that moment.

Super- uh, Kara is pretty much herself while she looks Lena over, making soft cooing noises as she checks over each scrape and bruise, she all but balls her eyes out when she shifts Lena's shirt to check the gunshot wound.

"Lena, Rao, I should have listened further out for you, if I was listening I could have stopped this." Lena was a bit slow to process her words but she quickly bounced back and stupidly asked, “Kara? You’re not human?” Kara stilled her hands, “Yeah. I'm sorry I kept it from you ‘till now, I just could never find the right moment to tell you. I was going to try again tonight if that’s worth anything.”

Kara did look nervous, wary that Lena was angry about her lying for so long, but instead of being angry Lena just full body laughed at their predicament.

As light tears started to form in Lena's eyes Kara nervously held the brunette's hand. "Lena? I don't know if laughing should make me feel nervous or happy right now."

Lena chuckled a couple more times and pulled the blonde into a relieved hug. "I've been an idiot, I've been trying to bring up the fact that I'm not human either for the past year Kara, so right now I think it's a bit ridiculous that you've been worrying about the same thing." Lena definitely didn't miss the full bodied twitch Kara did after hearing her say this, she understood though, Lena is technically human but only partially. It was briefly a one sided embrace until Kara hugged her back with almost all her strength, leaving Lena only mildly squished but overall content.

Their little bubble was immediately burst when a black SUV pulled up to blind the two of them, a bedraggled Alex dressed in her own pajamas and combat boots holding a shovel, "Kara. Tell me why did you text me 911 please bring a shovel! At 1 am Kara- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??"

Alex is out of her car and right by Kara's side almost instantly when the once thought to be dead ghoul flips onto its side to drag its to Lena, grossly gurgling its black blood as it crawls over to the trio.

"That would be what's left of my brother's newest hit and sent to check in on me. He's a ghoul so I probably should have made sure to take the whole head off inside of ripping her throat out." Lena extracts herself from an equally shocked Kara and tugs the shovel out of Alex's limp fingers, "Please pardon me, I'll give it right back."

Alex looks at her dumbfounded, Lena shrugs as she turns back to the ghoul clearly annoyed beyond belief. "I would say have a nice trip given that you're going straight to hell but I really don't appreciate what you did to my car, " she glances over at the once upon a time pristine white paint job and cringes at the many bullet holes and scratches.

"Actually I'm more pissed that I had to meet you at all, so, bye now."

She raised the shovel as high as she could with her good arm and swung down with all of her might, the ghoul let out one last hiss as the head fell from his body.

Exhausted Lena looks back at the gawking Danvers sisters, "Help me clean this up and I'll get you both whatever food you want and could eat for a month?" She was almost certain Alex was going to shoot her up until that offer was in play, both sisters bolted up and came over to help.

"You're also going to fill us in about whatever the hell that thing was and why he worked for your brother." Alex stated as she waved her hand in Lena's direction in an almost protective voice.

"And about the not human thing." Kara mumbled as she grabbed the creatures legs over to the deepening hold Alex was currently working on.

With a big sigh of relief Lena nodded, vowing to answer whatever her two friends asked her.

"Deal."

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morgana-ren · 4 years

Text

Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch36: I Bid You Farewell And Good Luck, Morons. Part 1- It’s Like A Pirate Had A Baby With An Angel.

Intro: Thor wakes up on a strange ship, surrounded by even stranger people, a talking tree and a rabbit. Meanwhile, back on Earth, the fight to save Vision is won and the group make their way back to the compound to understand what exactly it is that they’re facing.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chapters too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! Once again, I can’t thank @angrybirdcr enough for her edits, they’re awesome!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 35

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Thor wasn’t dead. But he felt like it. Every inch of his body ached and when he was jerked back to consciousness for a moment, just one split moment, he thought he saw Little Stark. Only it wasn’t her. The woman had dark hair, yes, but as he focussed he realised she looked nothing like the woman he loved dearly as a sister. This wench had huge eyes and antenna dangling from her forehead. And, whilst he knew it had been a while since he had seen his friend, she wouldn’t have changed that much.

Finding his feet he looked around, chest heaving, at the band of people stood in front of him; a woman with green skin and red hair, a man with grey/blue skin covered in red designs, a tree creature- a Flora Colossus unless he was mistaken- which was off to the side draped over a chair, some kind of furry, animal thing- a rabbit maybe- and finally a man who appeared to be a normal, human being. That was until he opened his mouth and Thor realised he was probably the most stupid human being he had ever encountered.

His rescuers had offered him soup, and then when he had explained about Thanos, the green skinned lady called Gamora had told Thor what the Titan wanted the stones for. Which she knew, because she his daughter.

Thanos had a daughter. Interesting.

“Families can be tough,” Thor spoke wisely, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Before my father died, he told me that I had a half-sister that he imprisoned in Hell. Then she returned home, stabbed me in the eye so, I had to kill her.” He shrugged. “That’s life though isn’t it I guess? Round and round, but I feel your pain.”

The human, Peter Quill, pushed his way between Gamora and Thor, and looked at her “I feel your pain, as well, because, I mean it’s not a competition, but I’ve been through a lot. My father killed my mother, and then I had to kill my father. And that was hard. Probably even harder than having to kill a sister. Plus, I, came out with both of my eyes.”

Thor wasn’t paying attention. The man was clearly a moron, and he’d just noticed he had bent the spoon in the bowl of soup and was having a flashback to the time he had tried to bend the Captain’s shield. Little Stark had laughed so much at how annoyed he had gotten when he failed that she had cried. And then, to make it worse, a few days later the Captain had managed to move Mjolnir. Just a fraction, but it moved. No one had seen it, bar Little Stark of course, but there was something there, Thor was sure. Steve Rogers was a man worthy of a lot of things, but his hammer was complicated. You have to prove your worth. That had been explained to him by his Father the day he had given it to him. Of course, he hadn’t realised then that Eitri had actually made it for Hela first.

Eitri… Oh, yes!

“I need a hammer, not a spoon.” Thor mumbled, as the idea took hold and he looked at the pod at the back of the ship. “How do I open this thing?” He began pressing random buttons on the screen next to the door. “Is there some sort of a four-digit code? Maybe a birth date or something?”

"What are you doing?” the rabbit animal, Rocket asked.

“Taking your pod.” Thor replied nonchalantly.

And then there was an argument in which the moron Quill tried to imitate Thor’s deeper voice telling him he could not take the pod, but Thor was going to take the pod anyway because he was the God of Thunder after all, and then the lady Gamora cut them off quite rightly directing the focus back to Thanos by stating they needed to find out where he was going next.

But Thor had already thought of that. “Knowhere,” he answered as he brushed past Quill and over to the refrigerator he had seen Gamora get his soup from.

“He must be going somewhere.” Mantis argued innocently.

“No,” Quill shook his head and Thor noted his stupid voice was back to normal. “Knowhere? It’s a place. We’ve been there. It sucks. Excuse me, that’s our food.” He jabbed, suddenly noticing what Thor was doing.

“Not anymore.” Thor shrugged, stuffing it into a backpack he found.

“Thor!” Gamora cut across the pair of them again. “Why would he go to Knowhere?”

“Because for years, the Reality Stone has been safely stored there with a man called the Collector.” Thor stated.

“If it’s with the Collector, then it’s not safe.” Quill snorted. “Only an idiot would give that man a stone.”

“Or a genius.” Thor shrugged.

“How do you know he’s not going for one of the other stones?” Gamora asked.

“There’s six stones out there.” Thor began to explain, “Thanos already has the Power Stone because he stole it, last week, when he decimated Xandar.”

He didn’t missed the shocked and horrified look the group shared with one another.

“He stole the Space Stone from me, when he destroyed my ship and slaughtered half my people. The Time and Mind Stones, are safe on Earth. They’re with the Avengers.”

“The Avengers?” Quill asked.

“They’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

“Like Kevin Bacon?” Mantis called out.

“Errr he may be on the team now, I don’t know.” Thor shrugged, having no idea who the man named after a breakfast meat was. “I haven’t been there in a while. And as for the Soul Stone, well no one’s ever seen that. No one even knows where it is. Therefore, Thanos can’t get it. Therefore, he’s going to Knowhere. Hence, he’ll be getting the Reality Stone. You’re welcome.”

“Then we have to go to Knowhere, now.” Gamora stated, looking around.

“Wrong. Where we have to go is Nidavellir.” Thor picked up the backpack.

“That’s a made up word.” Drax, the blue man countered.

“All words are made up.” Thor smiled, slinging the backpack onto his back.

“Nidavellir is real?” The animal called Rocket’s eyes grew wide and he jumped up onto the table and looked at Thor. “Seriously? I mean, that place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there, please.”

“The rabbit is correct.” Thor grinned at Rocket’s excitement. “And clearly the smartest among you. Only Eitri the Dwarf can make me the weapon I need.” He turned to the furry animal. “I assume you’re the captain, Sir?”

Rocket grinned and nodded, “You’re very perceptive.”

“You seem like a noble leader. Will you join me on my quest to Nidavellir?”

“Let me just ask the captain. Oh, wait a second, it’s me!” Rocket grinned. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wonderful.” Thor beamed.

“Uh except that I’m the captain,” Quill chipped in

“Quiet!” Thor was now beyond bored of the moron.

“And that’s my backpack.” Quill continued pointing to the bag that Thor was stealing.

“Quill, sit down.” Rocket tapped at the pad and keying in the digits to open the pod.

“Look, this is my ship. And I’m not going to - wait, what kind of weapon are we talking about here?” Quill looked round.

“The Thanos-killing kind.” Thor smiled.

Boy, was it going to be a big, fucking weapon like no one had ever seen before…

“Don’t you think that we should all have a weapon like that?” Quill frowned.

“You lack the strength to wield them. Your bodies would crumble as you minds collapsed into the madness.” Thor shook his head.

“Is it weird that I wanna do it even more now?” Rocket asked.

“Erm, a little bit weird. Yeah.” Thor looked down at him, frowning.

“If we don’t go to Knowhere and Thanos retrieves another stone, he’ll be too powerful to stop.” Gamora stepped forward.

"He already is.” Thor shrugged.

“Look, I got it figured out.” Rocket interrupted, looking at Gamora. “We got two ships, and a large assortment of morons. Me and Groot will go with the Pirate Angel here, and the morons will go to Knowhere to try and stop Thanos. Cool? Cool.”

“So cool.” Thor grinned before he climbed into the pod.

“For the record,” Quill said leaning down to Rocket, “I know that you’re only going with them because it’s where Thanos isn’t.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t talk that way to your captain, Quill.” Rocket smirked, walking backwards and gesturing outwards with his arms. “Come on, Groot. Put that game down. You’ll rot your brain,”

As Rocket sat down Thor nodded out of the pod to the rest of the people on the ship. “I bid you farewell and good luck, morons. Bye.”

******

It wasn’t hard for the team to track Wanda, her red power flashing bright against the dark sky over Edinburgh City Centre, and as the jet followed her movements, the four friends saw her spiralling through the sky with Vision and crashing through the train station roof, just as Sam put the jet on the ground.

Within seconds the Ex-Avengers were sprinting off the jet.

“Katie, Nat, take the side!” Steve yelled, as he vaulted over the railings at the edge of the road running down onto the bottom half of the concrete ramp which led to the station. “Sam, up high and remember, we protect Vision at all costs!”

“Got em.” Sam spoke over the coms. “Platform seven, near the café.”

Steve vaulted over another set of barriers, the station now deserted thanks to the evacuation taking place by the local police. As he ran onto one of the walkways over the lines, he was just in time to see two of the aliens crash through the station roof. Weighing up his options, he realised it was going to be quicker for him to hop down onto the platform he was currently overheard, and jump across the lines to help. He swung his legs over the railings and landed easily, looking up. Across from him he could see Natasha and Katie emerging to the right, as Wanda stood and moved protectively in front of Vision, building power in her hands. An express train whizzed past him and he stood still, waiting and it wasn’t long before the taller, blue looking woman spotted him, and she launched her spear over the platform. Steve easily snapped his left shoulder back whilst leaning over his body with his right, catching the staff in his hand.

“Heads up.” Sam muttered, and as Wanda and Vision turned to see Steve step out from the shadows, fury lining his face, Sam swooped in and kicked one of the aliens across the platform and through a closed café’s security gate, causing tables and chairs to go flying, before he spun and started to fire on the other alien.

Steve launched the weapon he had caught across the tracks where Natasha caught it and stabbed the second assailant in the gut as Katie moved in to head off the other who was stalking back towards them. The weapon Natasha had been using flew back into the alien’s hands and Katie ducked as she swung, jabbing her in the back of the leg with an electric powered escrima stick. The alien let out a yell, stumbled slightly and Steve cleared the platform in an easy leap, rolling and scooping up the second assailant’s staff from the floor, holding it up to block the blow that the creature aimed at Katie. He grit his teeth, planting his legs to absorb the power of the hit, as Katie rolled to the side, jumped up and the two of them began to fight the alien, joined shortly by Natasha. Steve had to admit, the woman (if you could call her that) was a force to be reckoned with, but the three of them were just about getting the upper hand when they heard Sam yell.

“DUCK!”

The three of them did so and Sam flew in hard, kicking the woman backwards where she fell and scuttled over to her fallen friend. Sam landed next to Katie, drawing both his submachine pistols on the couple.

“Get up” The alien instructed to her fallen partner, her voice was deep.

“I can't.” His gravelly, robotic voice replied.

“We don’t wanna kill you.” Natasha spoke coolly “But we will”.

“You’ll never get the chance again.” The female levelled them, with a cold glare and with that a beam shot down from the hole in the station roof and the two were transported upwards. The weapon Steve was holding also shot out of his hand. He frowned in surprise for a moment, looking at his hand then upwards as the beam of light disappeared and the ship sped off.

“Can you stand?” Sam asked Vision as Katie replaced her sticks and walked towards Wanda and the android. When Vision shook his head, Sam moved forward to help him up.

Supported by Wanda and Sam, Vision looked over at Steve, Natasha and Katie, electricity shimmering over his surface. He’d been badly damaged in the fight, and as he spoke his voice distorted.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. His face stern, but his eyes were much softer than his expression and Katie knew why. It had been a while since anyone other than Sam, Nat or Wanda had called him Captain.

Steve looked at the android, he might have been damaged but they had the stone, and that was the main thing. Nodding, he spoke. “Let’s get you on the jet.” His voice was soft and he moved to let Sam and Wanda support Vision on their way past him, Natasha following.

Katie hung back a little, trying to stop the light-headedness she was feeling from washing over her.

“You okay?” Steve turned to her as she blinked.

“Yeah, just took a whack that’s all. “I’m fine.” She assured him as they took up the rear of the group, her fingers lacing into his.

Once Vision was safely settled in a seat at the side, Sam dropped into the pilot’s seat. Katie hit the button to close the ramp as the Jet rose into the air.

“I thought we had a deal.” Natasha spun angrily to Wanda. ”Stay close, check in. Don’t take any chances.”

“I’m sorry. We just wanted time.” The younger woman said gently.

Katie glanced at Steve, he was stood up in the middle of the jet, hands on the buckle of his utility belt, staring seemingly at nothing but clearly contemplating something.

“Where to, Cap?” Sam asked.

Steve looked up, he glanced at Sam then locked eyes with Katie as he spoke one word, one simple word that they had all been waiting to hear for almost two years.

“Home”

*****

After a few hours, with the morning sky being the only thing in sight, Sam started to lower the jet through thick white clouds and Katie couldn’t help but inhale sharply when the compound began to take shape as she watched out of the front window. It looked the same. The buildings, the grounds…she wasn’t sure why she had expected anything to change, maybe because it felt like everything had changed for them, but either way, there it was. The exact same as the last time she had seen it.

Steve noticed her demeanour change slightly as they landed. She stood up straight, her shoulders squaring as if she was about to face an onslaught. And they were, in a way. On their way Steve had called Bruce to tell him that they had Vision and were heading back, but had had no idea what they were heading back to, nor did he care. Be it Ross, police, the army, whatever, Steve was done bowing to anyone’s will, he was over playing other people’s tunes. The two years they had spent hidden had shown them all that they could operate on their own if required, and he wasn’t afraid to fight anyone who got in his way.

They stepped off the ramp and strode over the lawn, Katie taking a deep breath as she looked around. So many emotions flooded her system, she couldn’t explain or identify half of them. Memories flashed in front of her eyes, visions of long summer nights spent outside in the garden and on the BBQ patio until sunrise. Laughs during team dinners. Sam and Wanda collaborating on pranks. Training sessions with the team and Vision reading Tolkien aloud to Wanda before asking questions about humanity’s love of fiction. Walks and picnics and other things in the ground, just her and Steve. Their wedding, God their wedding! Frequent visits from Tony, bringing in new ideas and improved gadgets. Getting back safe after being out on a long mission. Feeling relaxed and at ease.

Feeling at home.

Steve’s arm curled round his wife for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the side of her head as Vision opened the door.

“Still no word from Vision?”

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.”

“On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals.” “You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that, right, sir? “

“My God, Rhodes, your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

The sound of the call between Ross and Rhodey echoed down the corridor reaching the group that were making their way through to the lab.

“If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would’ve been right here.” Rhodey shot back and Katie glanced back at Vision as the sounds the voices grew louder as they neared their destination.

“I suspect it will be a Hollo Call.” Vision said gently, answering Katie’s unasked question. His suspicions were proven correct as they rounded the corner and the lab came into view. Rhodey was stood across from where the holographic image of Secretary Ross was facing off against him.

"You have second thoughts?” Ross was challenging Rhodey, who smiled simply as his eyes shot sideways. Steve strode forward, his presence as intimidating as ever, and the first thing Rhodey noticed was just how dark he looked. Gone was the upstanding, All American Hero, and in its place was someone much harder, far rougher round the edges. Kiddo looked different too. Her hair was shorter and she looked slimmer.

“Not anymore.” He grinned.

The holographic Ross followed Rhodey’s gaze and his eyes fell on Steve who was stood next to Katie at the front of the group, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Vision behind them. Steve raised his chin a little defiantly and moved to take his power stance, feet apart, hands on his belt, before he greeted Ross politely.

“Mr. Secretary"

Katie couldn’t help the smirk on her face as she watched Ross attempting to cover up the shock he had clearly felt at the group of outlaws turning up again. She locked eyes with Rhodey who gave her the smallest of winks before he glanced back at Ross who was shaking his head slightly as he approached Steve, his holographic form almost trying to square up to him. Steve simply raised his chin further and looked down from the steps he was stood on.

"You got some nerve.” Ross sniffed, staring up at him “I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now.” Katie shot back bluntly, Ross turned his head to face her for a second. She held his gaze and arched an eyebrow until he turned back to Steve.

“The world’s on fire.” Ross said incredulously. “And you think, you can just walk back in here and all is forgiven?”

Steve levelled the secretary with a firm gaze. “I’m not looking for forgiveness.” his voice took on a threatening tone as he spoke “And I’m way past asking for permission.”

At that point the smirk on Katie’s face grew even wider as she stole a glance up at her husband, pride swelling in her chest as he continued, stoic and unyielding.

“Earth just lost her best defender, so we’re here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way,” he stepped down to be at level with the hologram, and stared it square in the eyes “We’ll fight you, too.”

Ross was practically foaming at the mouth as his eyes went to Rhodey and he spat out his order, “Arrest them.”

“All over it.” Rhodey promised nonchalantly before shutting off the hologram, shortly after a beeping noise sounded from the computers.

“That’s a court-martial.” He informed the group as he slapped the back of his right hand into his left palm, though his tone said told Katie that he blatantly couldn’t have cared less for Ross’ demands. There was a short pause as the group glanced down at their friend, Steve smiling softly, before Rhodey’s face split into a huge smile of his own.

“It’s great to see you, Cap.” He stepped forward.

“You too, Rhodey.” Steve answered, taking the last two steps down before he shook Rhodey’s hand. Katie threw herself at her brother’s best friend and he gave her a huge bear hug before he looked down at her.

“You do something to your hair?” He teased. Katie smiled, stepping back from his embrace while he looked the rest of the group over.

“Well. You guys really look like crap. Must’ve been a rough couple of years.”

Steve looked round, an amused smile on his face as he glanced at his wife then to the rest of the team.

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star.” Sam quipped back cheekily, the banter flowing between them like no time at all had passed.

“Uh, I think you look great.”

Steve turned at the new voice to see Bruce inching his way into the room nervously wringing his hands together.

Steve and Katie remained silent, exchanging a glance. In the rush around and the fray of the fight, we’d forgotten to explain exactly who it was that called.

“Yeah. I’m back.”

Katie glanced over at Nat, she had her gaze fixed solely on the scientist as she spoke “Hi, Bruce.”

“Nat.” Bruce answered inclining his head towards her slightly as he fidgeted.

“This is awkward.” Sam piped up. Steve and Katie looked at one another, before they both smiled and looked back up at Sam.

“Any news on Tony?” Katie asked gently, interrupting the silence that had fallen.

“Not yet no.” Rhodey said. “FRIDAY lost him when he left the atmosphere. We got NASA running scans and we’re trying to track his trail but…” He shook his head.

“Typical Tony.” Katie rolled her eyes “Always has to go one bigger and one better doesn’t he?”

Her blasé tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Banner.” Steve said gently, looking across the room at the scientist. “Can you fill us in on what we’re up against here?”

“Yeah sure,” Bruce said nodding hesitantly.

Without so much as another word, the group all started to make their way out of the room. As Katie turned to follow Natasha, Steve’s hand gently fell on her shoulder. Without looking at him, she reached up and gently wrapped her fingers round his, giving them a squeeze before she left.

Steve took a deep breath as he glanced around the room once more, before he too followed on, that sick feeling in his gut was getting worse.

**** Chapter 36 Part 2

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu fanfic #mcu #chris evans #chris evans characters

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trials-by-blood · 4 years

Note

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

"You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

"I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

"N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

"UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

"I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

"Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

"Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

"The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

"W-hat was it? His name?"

"Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

"I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

"Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

"As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

#yautja #predator #human/predator #alien vs predator #ask

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lvlyhao · 3 years

Text

「PART TWO: FEAR」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: took me long enough to post, I know, but thank you to that last anon for reminding me of the series lol with school i tend to forget what i have and haven’t posted but i’ll do better from now on. i hope you like this :)

important: this chapter includes mentions of vomiting and though i’ve already put a warning for violence and gore in the masterlist, i’m saying it again: please don’t read this if you are not okay with that!!!!

word count: 2.1K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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“I’m heading out”, your hands fondly squeeze Taeyong’s shoulders from behind him. He does not look up from his task for a few seconds, counting rolls of gauze. Then, upon processing your words, he twirls to face you. His eyes trail up and down your figure, making a mental checklist of everything you need to be safe. Apparently, one thing is missing.

“Take Jaehyun with you”, he asks, “or maybe Yuta. Johnny is always good to have around, and so is Renjun. Those swords of his are no joke”, he rambles, losing focus. The way he places his hands on his hips and sighs tells you he’s absolutely drained. “Or maybe I should go with you—”

Shaking your head fervently, you pat his cheek for his attention, observing the streaks of noon sunlight across his face. He stares at you with concern and shifts his weight.

“You’re staying right here and so are the boys, Tyong. We haven’t found a survivor in weeks, and taking one of them is always more stressful than anything”, you reason. Recollections of how the boys attract trouble wherever they go cloud your mind, far too many to count. The air suddenly feels too chilly, with shivers running down your spine.

“Just stay here and maybe find a way to rest. You know Doyoung won’t mind keeping track of the supply for you.”

At this point, he knows it’s no use arguing.

“Just be careful… and get back before dawn”, he adjusts the collar of your jacket, thinking back to the weather outside of the grey walls of the dorms. “All I’m saying is you never know what you’re gonna find.” Giving you a tight-lipped smile and a nod, he resumes his job, and you leave him. Headed to the heavily locked iron doors guarded by the towering figures of Shotaro and Sungchan, you ask yourself if there was any hidden depth to Taeyong's words.

“You never know what you’re gonna find, huh", you mutter.

Now, roaming the deserted streets on your own and basking in the orange glow of the afternoon, you just think he was wrong.

It’s already been a couple of hours since you left: you’ve explored parts of the district you barely even knew before the virus, seeing all kinds of animals scurrying around your path. You’ve also eaten the rice balls Jaemin packed for you, and you’ve gawked at the decaying building that used to be your favourite theatre. It’s all the same as you imagined it would be. Not many walkers litter this part of town—just 7 or 8 you managed to avoid—and no people. No one worth rescuing.

Wandering like this, in silence, brings back memories you're not sure you like. Weekly game nights with your friends, attending Jisung’s dance presentations, playing in the park’s playground at night... All of those feel foreign to you, parts of life too good to have ever been yours. Still, the need for a shot of wistfulness takes over, and you sigh. Better now than when it gets late, then. With a shake of your head, you pick a destination and start moving.

You’re conscious of your surroundings as you keep one hand on the bow and make your way across the square. Dry, fiery leaves crunch under your boots, being the only sound you pick up. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, either. The same old abandoned stores seem to look down at you, their busted windows moaning in the wind. But, right then, something jabs at your gut. It's a silent alert to a threat you can't see.

Damnit. You better pick up the pace.

As soon as you make a turn to the left, spying the pizza place you used to visit, you freeze. Walkers, maybe 10 of them, whimper and try to get past the debris to reach something inside a pharmacy.

How could you not notice them earlier? They’re not a quiet horde, and the awful stench is not something you should have missed either. Have you been that lost in your nostalgia?

Whatever happened, you don't have much time. If the undead are making that much effort to get around the rubble, there has to be someone inside. A fellow human being—hopefully, a nice one. Someone you can help.

Acting out of instincts, you drink in your surroundings. Having your back hastily pressed against a tree trunk is not ideal, but it's what comes to you. While you can't call yourself a strategy master, jumping right into action is not the right plan when someone else's life is in danger.

Mind racing, you know you need a better shooting spot now if you want to make a move. Drawing them out to an alley is not a totally bad idea either. They wouldn't be able to escape, and maybe then they could flee.

As soon as you found a perfect corner for that, the screech of old door hinges catches your attention. A second later, shattering glass.

Shit. They broke in.

With no more time to assess the situation, you quickly climb up a rotting picnic table. The zombies, some missing a limb, slowly drag their feet towards a man in a plaid, blue shirt.

He's petrified, head lashing from side to side, looking for a way out. You know very well there is none, and soon enough it will be too late. He’ll be just at reach for those disgusting, putrid fingers. If they get a bite in, it's over for you, and it's over for him.

That’s when you take the stupidest decision of your life.

Screaming.

“YO, YOU POINTLESS MEAT SACK! WHY DON’T YOU LOOK OVER HERE?”

The boy might just get whiplash from how fast his eyes find yours. His are dark and desperate, but there is something else to them—to him. Something you will never find it in you to explain.

It could have been the way the stares right at your soul, or how his face displays every emotion from relief to terror. You could even say it was how his knees buckled under his weight or his fluttering hair in the wind. You can blame your reaction on a lot of things, but none of them startles you as much as yourself.

A cold hand grasps at your heart, squeezing it tightly in your chest. Blood drains from your face, and your frame shakes in the wind. You know this sensation all too well to have doubts, although it is what you swore never to feel again. Fear. Not for yourself, no, even when the undead start walking towards you instead. You don't—can't— care enough about your life, and you know it. It is all for him, the beautiful stranger you are going to save.

The first two arrows find their aim, speeding right through the undead’s skulls, but something shifts in your arms. The rest of your arrows now seem to swerve a bit to the sides, lodging themselves on necks or shoulders. In other words, not where they are supposed to.

Oh, how much you hate that the walkers will only die if you damage their brains.

“Annoying bastards, I swear—”

Falling into a state of near panic, you drop to the floor unceremoniously and race to the horde. If your bow won't do the trick, your other weapons will.

Momentarily thankful for their lack of agility, you pull out the knives hidden on the sides of your shoes. In a flurry of drive, you slash and stab everything around you. While throwing some hand-to-hand-combat here and there, your eyes start to burn. The walkers smell even worse from up close, you bitterly recall from past encounters. It's one of the things that make fighting harder—the urge to run away from them at every second.

The more daring among them clutch at your clothes, keeping your movement limited, but you manage to cut off their hands. The slick sound it makes is enough to make bile rise up your throat, but you swallow it back.

“C’mon, Y/N”, you pant, kicking what had once been an adult woman in the chest to send her down to the asphalt. “You’ve had tougher battles than this." With a breath as deep as you can manage, your knife cuts at another zombie.

It is true, you know. It's impossible to count the times you’ve been up against groups of 20 or more. You were always fine. Right now, though, wincing from multiple wounds scattered around your skin, you question how the hell did you do it.

Hurriedly glancing to your right, you notice 5 are already dead—well, dead-er than they had previously been. The lady you kicked struggles to get up, giving you a gap to spin and bury your knife into her scalp. She goes limp right away, and you stare. 4 more to go.

Just as you retrieve your blade and turn to face the other walkers, something bites your dominant hand. Hard.

With your knife tumbling down in a metallic clunk, fire shoots up your arm. The first thing you do is wiggle your hand back and forth. Some part of you thinks it was going to let go like it’s some sort of dog. You realize you were wrong when darkened saliva flows into the cuts, your mind going blank with agony.

You figure it was one of the undead you had pushed down before, only to lose sight of him later. And, yes, wiggling was a poor attempt at getting him to drop you, but you did it out of pure alarm. Fear is gradually taking over you now, freezing cold and impossible to fight.

With only your non-dominant hand free, you sloppily sink your blade down however many times it takes for the corpse to stop moving. The pain you feel is sharp, travelling through your veins like blue fire. As his grip slackens, the body slumps to the ground, a wet thud echoing. Despite the agony that threatens to blind you, you're aware of the other 3 walkers you have yet to take down.

One is easy enough, with an arrow embedded deep on one side of her neck, and another coming down on her brow bone. Repugnance swirls in your gut, and you have to look away. Their skulls are incredibly soft.

Your remaining enemies pace at either side of you, circling you with dead eyes and faltering strides. You keep your wounded hand close to you while the other clutches the leather grip of your weapon. It's time to put an end to this.

Choosing to go for the right first, you slash at his chest, grimacing at the black blood that oozes. It taints his shredded red hoodie and sprinkles at your front. The shudders that course through you in silent rage give you the strength to finish it off.

In one clean, powerful strike, your knife goes through an eyeball, but he collapses a bit too fast. You can't recover your blade.

Having no weapons on your hands, even for a second, is critical. The walkers are borderline sluggish, but it was easy to lose track of them: your severed hand was proof.

To your relief—or mild disgust—, hasty strides bounce at the pavement behind you, followed by heavy thuds on a slimy surface. It takes no more than 3 seconds for the last body to tumble by your feet, face down.

It's only then you see the skull, or better, what is left of it. Blood and brain flow over a gaping crack, done by something sharp. You could guess it was the heavy, black rock that you find before you, held in the hands of the man you are supposed to be saving.

From there, you realize his medium length hair is a faded blue, with dark brown at the roots. A grey university hoodie hugs his slim figure under the plaids, matching his cargo pants and busted sneakers. His face is all sharp angles and soft edges, but his gaze is nothing short of magnetic.

Wide, chocolate eyes glare at the body with such horror your own throat tightens. Then, with no words shared, he lets go of the rock and stumbles back like he cannot believe what he did. Your own eyes divert to the cloudless sky, hearing him vomiting on the concrete in a matter of seconds. Poor dude.

Pity, combined with the reminiscents of adrenaline and dread, settle in you. Your thoughts boil down to one small detail: the Sun is setting.

The throbbing on your hand momentarily vanishes, lost in the memory of Taeyong very clearly telling you to be back before dawn. Aside from that, the memory of what you did to get the walkers' attention still burns at your mind. That goddamned shout. Having a sense of hearing as acute as they did, you are sure any other zombies around you are coming your way.

You have fucked up big time.

-------

final notes: ik chapter one wasn’t all that exciting but i’m hoping this one is better wheeze two more to come, stay tuned <3

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bradie-valentine · 3 years

Text

To Live in a House That is Haunted

By Bradie Valentine

The afternoon sun bakes me through the windshield as I drive towards Leah’s house. She hasn’t answered my texts in a couple of days. Not that unusual for her, even before this silence. And yet I’m still on my way to check on her. We’ve been basically inseparable since we bonded over our family troubles in grade three and this is the longest we haven’t seen each other since then. The quiet from her side of our friendship has gestated long enough.

When I pull up to her house, a wave of unease washes over me. The house looks almost the same as it usually does, but just slightly off. The grass is way too long and I can see a pile of mush near the mailbox, the storms of summer turning her mail into pulp. As I head towards the house, parting the long grass that tickles my legs, I notice the stack of oak she bought a few months ago. The wood is bloated and full of wet rot, another victim of the January showers.

Don’t get me wrong, Leah has always been quiet, reserved. But this is different. Besides the occasional ‘I’m still alive’ text, I’ve barely interacted with her in the past two months. I can’t exactly blame her though. I can understand why she hasn’t been feeling very social. Her husband, Brian, died two months ago; the death of Leah’s voice immediately following.

I was with her that day, the day cops turned up to deliver the news. We were in the lounge room, chatting about Leah’s upcoming carpentry projects when there was a knock at the door. Leah answered it, there was some muffled chatter and then a sorrowful screech, like an animal caught in a trap. I leapt up from the couch just in time to see Leah collapse in on herself. The strong statue of the woman I knew, reduced to a pile of discarded tissues; delicate and tear soaked.

It was a freak accident that killed her Brian. A bump on the head at work. Rushed to the hospital, and he was dead on arrival. We found out later that the knock had popped a massive aneurysm that was nesting between the folds of his brain.

I take a deep breath and rap on the door a couple times but Leah doesn’t answer. I pause for a few seconds, knock, pause again, and knock again. I pull out my phone and text her, a drop of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. The heat and worry working together to slick my skin. I try calling too, but the phone rings out. Usually I wouldn’t bother worrying over Leah, but since Brian, grief has metamorphosed her, leeching both her light and strength. I think I should go, maybe come back later, but then I notice the sound of music. Leonard Cohen’s deep voice emanates from within the house. I try the handle and it’s unlocked, as soon as I open the door I get hit with the foulest stench of my life, even worse than when I used to get paid to wash down animal cages at the local vet. The stench clogs my nostrils and makes my mouth water with pre-vomit saliva.

I call out to Leah and get no response in return. Covering my nose, I start down the hallway, passing picture frames filled with photos of the happy couple. I call out again and I still don’t get a reply. Oh god, I should have come sooner. As I approach the bedroom, I hear a buzzing. I can’t place it for a second, and then I realise, it’s flies, a swarm of flies.

It’s all making sense, her favourite album playing, their wedding anniversary is coming up. The stench of sickly sweet death crowding the hallway. Leah has killed herself and now a horde insects are busy getting comfortable in the rancid warmth of her lifeless corpse.

I brace myself, a few steps and I’ll be able to see the bedroom, the carnage Leah has made of herself. And then I hear a laugh, Leah's laugh. The fear mixes with confusion and I’m so disorientated, I stumble the last couple steps forward and then I see them.

Leah is lying on the bed, holding Brian’s hand. It takes me a second to realise that the swollen form on the bed is indeed Brian. The flies have made their home here a while ago. There is a split in Brian’s belly where the gasses of rot have burst him open. Maggots spill off Brian and wiggle across Leah, like they can’t even tell anymore where the death ends and the living begins.

I turn away and run for the kitchen. My stomach is roiling and lurching. I only make it halfway and end up vomiting on the floor. Bile and this morning's toast exploding from my mouth.

“Hi”

I look at Leah. She’s knobbly and bony where she used to be muscular. There’s a stain down the left side of her night gown. It’s yellowy thickness let’s me know it’s broken down fat that has leached out of Brian and onto her. As if he was trying to offer back some of the bulk that weeks in bed have taken from her.

I’m still gagging when she starts talking.

“I dug him up, after the funeral. I brought a shovel with me.”

“Why?”

“I was getting ready for the funeral and all I could think about is how he would be so lonely in the ground. You know how much he hated being without me.”

“Leah, this is fucking crazy, you know that right? I love you but holy shit. You need help Leah… you need serious help.”

She just turns away and walks back to the bedroom.

“Leah, stop! I’m serious.”

She doesn’t listen to me. I follow her down the hallway and watch her climb into bed next to the mass of degrading flesh in a burial suit.

The liquid of his body has seeped into the mattress and the carpet beneath their bed. No one is ever going to be able to scrub him from the carpet or the floor below. An oily stain has spread up the wall above him, a halo made from his desecration. Brian now has a permanence he never had before. I wonder for a second what will happen to this house after they’re gone. Who would even want it now?

“Go away,” She says.

“Leah please”

She stays silent, just staring at Brian’s empty face.

“This is beyond fucked up, I’m getting you out of here. If… if you don’t come with me, I’ll call the police. They’ll be able to drag you out”

There is another long pause, and I almost think she has forgotten I’m here. She’s so clearly out of it.

“Please… please just let me say goodbye” She finally replies, “I need to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say it last time, please“

She leans in close to the bloat and starts whispering. I feel like I’m watching something I shouldn’t. I head for the front door, for fresh air. As I’m walking through the house, I realise all of the pictures on the wall that used to be of parents and cousins and nieces have been replaced.

They’re all of Leah with Brian’s body. All taken in the house. In one, Brian is propped up on the couch. Leah is sitting straight, like she’s posing for a portrait. The self timer on her phone capturing a record of her depravity. The photos all vary in poses and states of decomposition. The latest one I find is of them in bed. Brian already shiny and slick, his body bloated and gnarled. Leah has an arm around him and her head on his chest.

The front door is calling to me, fresh air and a reprieve from the incessant vibration of insect life. I reach for the handle when I notice the frame right by the door. The photo is of Leah, Brian and I at their wedding. It was Leah's favourite of the night, the three of us caught in laughter together. I sigh and head for the lounge room instead, climb the couch and slide open the window, pressing my face to the fly screen, breathing deeply the outside air.

The light tap, tap, tap of Leah’s steps announce her presence in the hallway.

“It’s okay now,” she says, “I got to say goodbye. We can put him back and no one has to know. You don’t have to call the police or anything.”

“Leah, you dug up his body, I can’t just pretend like that didn't happen.”

“Please! If anyone finds out, they’ll put me away. I don’t want to be alone. I lost Brian, I can’t lose everyone else as well.”

She’s just standing there in her yellowed nightgown, hands wringing each other. Leah looks so young, so helpless, like she’s in third grade again. Actually, she reminds me more of myself when I was in third grade. Unsure, broken, needing someone to look after me. Leah was the one who took care of me then, she was my person. Now I have to be that for her.

“Alright,” I say, getting up from the couch, “you get the gloves and aprons, I’ll get the rope.”

Standing in the bedroom, decked out in aprons, gloves, and face masks, we stare at the pile of flesh on top of the mattress. Assessing the best course of action, I really stare at Brian. Once a man, a great man at that, he is now somewhere between human and object. Tender and fragile, a bag of rot. Meat, past its use by date. A spoiled egg, one sharp prod and he’ll pop like a runny yolk. We have to be gentle.

Next to the bed, we lay the blue tarp I grabbed from the shed across the floor. Leah climbs up beside Brian, the movement jostles him, shaking the fluid filling his skin, wobbling like an oversized hot water bottle. Bracing myself over the tarp we grab his arms and pull him towards the ground, our fingers sink into his raw sausage meat arms. He slips from our hands a couple inches from the floor, with a wet slap he hits the ground. We rear back, and Leah spews a startled cry. The gash in Brian’s stomach yawns wider and a rush of melted organs spill from his open body; a thick grotesque puff of odour erupting with it. Following closely behind, a swarm of flies and maggots escape his bodily cavity, startled from their reverie.

Shocked still for a moment, we spring to life and scramble out of the room and slam the door shut. Leah slides to the floor, moaning and crying.

“What do we do now?” She asks me.

Dropping to the floor, I gather her gently into my lap. Trying not to think about bits of Brian swill getting all over me, I pat her matted hair.

“We take care of you now, the way you took care of Brian, the way you’ve taken care of me. Whatever that means.”

“Okay,” she says, “okay.”

Once Leah is soundly asleep, I dial triple zero. The operator seems a bit surprised by the situation I describe.

“My friend dug up her husband’s dead body and had been living with it for two months, can you send an ambulance over?”

“Uh, yeah. Right away.”

Once again, Leah and I are startled by a knock at her front door. I’m the one who answers it this time. Leah stands at the end of the hallway, she must look frightening to these strangers. Gaunt and covered in sludge, sticky with the putrid stench of the death that was stewing in that once pristine bedroom. They’re gentle with her, she goes with them willingly. We finally get outside, the freshness of the crisp air disorientating. Leah stops and turns to me.

“I’m sorry for bringing you into this,” she says.

“Anytime,” I say.

We both laugh a little bit.

“Leah?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be okay. Eventually, things will be better.”

“I know,” She says, “will you be okay, without me around?”

I think it’s a joke. Her, also trying to lighten the mood. I answer her seriously anyway.

“Yes, Leah. I think I will.”

#shortstories #shortstory #bradievalentine #originalwork #originalstory #writer #author

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) Fanfiction. Chapter VI

Summary: Javier and Steve reunite and reflect on their past and their present and the hurtful memories they have to carry from their time in Colombia. Meanwhile Isa struggles with her everyday life and not having news from Javier for days is starting to worry her.

Word count: 2,6k

Warnings: PTSD talks, mentions of violence. (This is me trying to solve one plothole from season 2 from a character I really liked and hated at the same time👀)

A/N: So this took longer than I thought, I completely lost the inspiration and words didn’t flow I had to restart this many times. I guess I will look at this in a few weeks and think I should have revised even more, but I promised to post this today, so there it is. This is plot and more plot with a little bit of angst and fluff at the end.

Series masterlist

Chapter VI: Old Friends

Time is a curious thing; here they are many years after: Their bodies are not the same; the jeans are tighter around the belly and the hair is already grey in some parts, wrinkles around the eyes bear witness of the years that had pass through them, but nonetheless the conversation flows as if not a day has passed.

The empty beers sit to the side of the table leaving a small pool of their condensation over the wooden table. The music is loud at the bar and Javi and Steve had been quite for a few minutes now. The question floating above them making the air thicker every second it passes without addressing the matter.

“I should have reach to you sooner” Javi says holding his half bottle, is it the fifth or sixth he has finished?

“Don’t worry about it” Steve shakes his head and leaves his bottle on the pile “I called a few times, but I thought you needed time to process it all”

“The thing is I didn’t” Javi shows half a smile “I really fucked up and when they gave me Cali I thought I could redeem myself. Tried to do it by the book, tried to outsmart them” he leans on the table “and what happened? It was a fucking charade” he snarls

“You did well getting all that shit on the news” the blond agent taps on his friend arm “Shit! I wanted to quit myself when I saw it”

“They didn’t give me another option. But...” Javi crosses his arms over his chest when he feels that familiar feeling, the words and feelings choking him

“You didn’t want to”

“Fuck, I’m a middle age man! This is what I’ve been doing for my whole life? What was I supposed to do?” he exhales deeply, a burden is lifted out of his chest

“Everybody said it was unfair if it helps” Steve consoles

“I guess not Stechner” Javi scoffs

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve comes close “He disappeared. For real, MIA. Nobody has heard from him in years”

“Well, I don’t wish death to anyone...” Javier shakes his head:” who am I kidding? Fuck him!”

The two of them laugh out loud for a few minutes; the waiter guessing that their laughs deserve another round; leaves two cold beers on their table with a wink

“For Stechner, I guess”

“May he rot in hell” and they drink together

“So...about that wife of yours” Steve has been dying to ask more about Isa and Connie has tasked him with getting all the information he can gather.

“Isa” Javier reaches for his wallet. In the small plastic pocket inside it, there’s a picture of the three of them on a photo booth, the same day they had to go to the mall to get Elvi’s photo for her school application.

Elvira is seated on their laps while Javi and Isa smile at her

“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You’ve been always lucky with the ladies, Javi”

“Well, I am. I don’t know how she bears with me. I give her too many headaches”

“Connie was happy when they stopped asking me to go on field operations. Not gonna lie, it felt good for a bit getting back to a desk and just do paperwork. But then...” Steve blue eyes look glossy in this light and after too many beers “I saw myself reflected on the glass doors of the office and shit, it hit me; I was old and dying on a desk. And then you called”

“I understand”

“When you said you were married with a kid, I really couldn’t believe that you and I were once those dudes in Colombia”

“It feels like a million years ago”

“And just a few days ago at the same time” completes Steve and Javier nods

“What does she know? your wife, how she handles all that?”

“She doesn’t. When I met her she was...first of all she had left Laredo before everybody knew me for the Escobar shit, so when we met, we were just two strangers. We could talk and I could kick everything under a rug and let her form an opinion about me by herself without interferences” his gaze wanders over the tables: families having a quite dinner; a couple that has an untouched plate in front of them while they kiss and talk in whispers.

“And after you married?” Steve asks interrupting his thoughts

“I just told her the necessary” he shakes his head the necessary is almost nothing.

“Well, it’s better that way, but I couldn’t hide it from Connie. Man! I was out control; everything and anything could trigger me. I was anxious, paranoid all the time. I woke up in the middle of the night, got my gun out of the safe if I heard a car tire exploding or any loud noise and I’d had my heart beating fast for hours. And let’s not talk about the nightmares”

“The helicopter?” Javi asks, his voice is thin almost a whisper remembering the extreme methods the police used when the hunt for Escobar was on its peak

“Yeah...and many others. I keep on seeing the two of us entering that house, but instead of finding Olivia crying, she’s dead, shot dead as her mum” Steve sniffs and coughs moving uncomfortably on his chair. “That’s when I looked for help”

Javier nods remembering so many nights where he thought his brain could kill him, reimaging that kid in the ally, rescuing Helena, all the things he saw when Los Pepes were unleashed. By your hand.

“We should call it a night, amigo”

“I see your Spanish has not improved. Just the two words you knew back in Colombia” Javi scoffs with a grin

“Cabrón”

“Yep, that’s the second one”

Isa

It’s been two days since he left and he hasn’t called. Isa tries to focus on everything she needs to do before Elvira starts the new school year. She has called Chucho every afternoon thinking that maybe he had some news, but nothing.

“Ese marido tuyo aguanto mientras Elvi era chiquita y ahora que pudo se largo” (Your husband stayed with you while Elvi was a baby and now that she’s grown, he has left you) her mother commented once she got the news that Javi was away and he hadn’t call in three days. News travel fast in a small town and she hears the comments about her, about Javi: he did it again, he left another woman and run away, he left her as he left Lorraine. Every day Isa had to struggle with her own thoughts and the constant reminder from her mother and the ladies in Laredo that something was wrong with Javier.

Her brain repeats the same litany:

He must be caught up in something

Maybe he’s somewhere where there’s not a good connection

Maybe he cannot call for security

Maybe he did run away

Maybe he’s in danger

She tries to stop her mind when it gets that fast spiraling down towards the darker scenarios she can imagine. On the third night after he left and hadn’t called she had a terrible nightmare and she had to keep her little night lamp on as she does every night he spends away and every day since then, the lamp is on while she rests, sleeping just for a few hours and then spending hours turning back and forth trying not to think about the worst possible things she can imagine. What would she do if he never comes back? What would she do if something bad happen to him? Even though they had made peace by making love in that old truck before parting she could not forget their arguments and the things left unsaid. He would never leave them like that, would he?

Isa tries to be calm, not to project her fears and worries onto her daughter but each day she’s challenged with the never ending things she has to do at home each day: laundry, cooking, cleaning, and every time she thinks she’s finished there’s something new that has come up. Elvira is stressed, as any kid her age, watching the summer slipping away with its long days of freedom on top of her dad being away. So she’s more agitated than usual, sassy and misbehaving just to get her mother’s attention.

The trip to the supermarket is a long chant of demands: I want Cereals, I want Ice cream. All Isa can hear is IwanIwantIwantIwant and the wheels of her shopping cart screeching on the ground. She thinks her wrist is about to snap open just trying to hold Elvira’s hand so she sticks to her side.

“It’s really crowded, cielo, stay with me” she sighs trying to be patient.

But the moment, Isa hesitates and looks down to read her shopping list, she’s out

“I’m gonna get my cereal”

“Elvi!”

Isabel gains a few complaints from some old lady that she almost railed over trying to run for her daughter.

“Oh, you want that one?”

“Yes, please. I can’t reach” Isa laughs softly watching her daughter acting polite and looking like an angel towards the stranger woman. The lady gives her the colorful box and Elvi jumps excitedly until she sees her mum at the end of the aisle.

“¿Qué te dije de que te separases de mi?” (What did I tell you about running away from me?” the little girl pouts and answers

“I thought you would say no if I ask for this”

“Ay, Elvi. I’m sorry if she bothered you” Isa smiles to the woman. She is on her 40s, Isa guesses, she has a beautiful elegant visage framed by a brown with blond highlights mane. She smiles widely with her scarlet lips: “No hay problema” (No problem) she answers in Spanish, her accent seems different to the Mexican-American accent Isa is used to listen to in this part of Texas.

“Gracias igualmente. Está obsesionada con esto que está lleno de azúcar” (Thank you anyway, she’s obsessed with this sugary thing” Isa ruffles her child’s hair

“La comprendo, mis hijos son igual” (I understand, my kids are the same)

“¿De dónde es? tiene un acento muy bonito” (Where are you from? you have a very beautiful accent) Isa asks, for a moment she thinks that she might be overstepping but the woman laughs softly patting Isa’s arm with her hand stylishly decorated in elegant gold and diamonds rings, her manicure is perfect.

“Colombia,pero ya llevo unos años acá en los Estados Unidos” (Colombia, but I’ve been here in the USA for a while now)

“¡Oh! me han dicho que es muy bonito” (I’ve been told it’s very beautiful) Elvi grabs her mum by the hem of her dress rushing her to finish the boring conversation, mainly because she wants to get back home and open the box of cereal “Bueno, un gusto” (Well, it’s been a pleasure) Isa waves

“¿Cómo se llama?” the woman asks when they’re leaving

“Isa, ¿y usted?” (Isa, and you?)

“Judy. Un placer” she grins

The TV has already passed to that late night teleshopping advertising stupid stuff with even more stupid people repeating again and again the same lame catchy phrases. But there’s silence at this hour, Elvi is sleeping soundly and now Isabel can rest on the sofa, eyes fixed on the stupid people on TV and her longing for Javier.

She took the laundry out of the dryer today. Mixed in all the clothes an old “University of Texas” t-shirt that Javi rarely wears around the house and that she has stolen as pajamas. Without even realizing it, she smelled the fabric only sensing the sweet scent of the softener she uses so she had rushed to the bathroom and sprinkled the t-shirt with Javi’s cologne. And now hugs herself silently praying that tonight will be the night he calls.

The TV volume is set to the minimum and when the strong ringing sound surrounds the house Isa thinks is coming from it until she realizes that is coming from the kitchen. She runs, stepping on Elvi’s toys and bumping her knee over the sofa. Limping she runs and picks up the phone

“Hello?” her voice is shaky

“Isa is me” Javi says on the other line

“Javi, thank God, where were you? You told me you will call when you’d arrive and it’s been three days and I...” she babbles

“I’m fine, I’m sorry...it’s been a little bit crazy” he sounds tired and he’s speaking softly as if he cannot raise his voice

“Are you okay? Are you in danger?” Isa sniffs, the tears rolling down and she leans on the cold tile wall of the kitchen

“No, it’s just we have to go to different places, meet a bunch of people. I didn’t have the time. I’m sorry Isa. Elvi’s sleeping I guess?”

“Yes, but she will be really happy to know that you called”

“I’ll try to call earlier tomorrow”

“Yes...please, she’s being a bit difficult lately”

“Why?” Isa can hear how the bed creaks on his end and his deep grunt

“I guess it’s the end of summer, you’re not here, my mum...”

He huffs

“Elvi told her we didn’t know where you where and you can imagine”

“She hates me even more”

“Don’t worry about her. Tell me about the job” Isa sits on the ground holding the phone on her shoulder

“Isa...I rather listen to you”

“I haven’t done much. Nothing interesting”

“It doesn’t matter” he answers

And thus she begins telling every tiny detail, Javi was silent on the other side and when she asks if he’s listening he just hums.

“Anyway...I guess that’s all. And I hope you’re not mad but your old university t-shirt has a new hole in it which somehow makes it even more comfortable”

“You’re wearing it now?”

“Yes...I miss you so it’s just like having your arms around me”

“I miss you too, Isa. I only have this old dude on the medallion and the picture I keep on my wallet to remind me of you...not that I need anything to remember you”

“That old dude...” she laughs “he’s a saint and I think he’s doing a good job for the moment”

“Really?” Isa smiles widely when she hears his deep chuckle on the other side

“You’ve said I miss you for the first time, I will say it’s even a miracle”

“What? I’ve told that plenty of times” he says a little bit offended “ but we’ve never been parted that much since we’re together”

“You don’t say you love me that much either...” Isa adds

“That’s not true” he says firmly

“Yes it is, I’m not mad, you express it in other ways. I’ve accepted that when I marry you”

“I’m sure I say it many times...”

“You can say it now...” she whispers

“I love you, Isa, and I miss you” he mutters

“See? Saint Jude is working its magic” Isa laughs. Her heart is full and she feels like an enormous weight has been lifted. He loves me, he’ll be back

“So I’m not a lost cause anymore?” Javi replies with an amused tone

“We’ll see when you get here”

“And you won’t say it back?”

“What?”

“That you love me and miss me”

“Ay, Javier” she sighs “I sleep every night waiting for you with the lights on, praying that you will get back to me soon, I sleep with your t-shirt and even if I don’t believe in it really, I keep praying and praying that you will be back to our bed, that I will turn and you’ll be there, so yeah, I miss you and I love you. Te amo”

“Yo también te amo”

“Good night, mi amor”

“Good night”

(taglist: @sara-alonso)

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #Narcos #Narcos fic #Javier Peña x ofc #Javier Pena #Javi Peña #Javi Pena #Javier Pena fanfic

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anika-222 · 4 years

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Carry On Sparks: Drive Slow

Deep breath. I’m glad I’m posting this at 2am, otherwise I might not be brave enough to do so. This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, and I haven’t written any fiction since high school. Which was like 20 years ago for me. So. Be kind, please. :)

My contribution to @carryonsparks for the prompt Slow is inspired by the song Drive Slow (which I discovered via this fandom, thank you @thehoneyedhufflepuff)

Drive Slow

Baz

The sun went down hours ago, about the time that Bunce’s university mates left, and now we’re heading to the door of her and Shepard’s flat for the final round of goodbyes. I’m reaching my arm into my slate grey overcoat as I hear Snow laugh - again - at something Shepard’s said. Did he ever laugh this much when we were together? I push the thought away. Otherwise, a flood of memories of Snow breaking up with me last April are sure to replay in my mind. In slow motion, no less. It simply wouldn’t be my brain if it didn’t go for the lowest blow, drawing out that pain for as long as possible. When I arrived for Bunce’s birthday dinner, I walked into her flat to see Snow looking relaxed and smiling, chatting with Bunce’s school mates. It took every ounce of practiced vampiric stoicism to push down Snow’s last words to me. I can’t let them bubble up now, not when we’re about to be alone for the first time in months. I button up my coat, willing my face into a cool, calm indifference as I turn and ask, “Ready, Snow?”

Much to my own disappointment, I practically tripped over myself to offer Snow a lift home when mentioned the last bus was heading out a couple hours ago. I’d do anything for more time in his warmth, I’d thought. But what I’d said out loud was some drivel about him staying longer for his best mate’s birthday or some such rot. It must have worked; he accepted after only a few awkward beats while he considered my offer. I had exhaled a breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding in.

Snow’s wrapping his arms around Bunce in a massive hug, like only he can. “Happy Birthday, Pen. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Simon.” Bunce leans into his warmth and a lick of jealousy rises from deep in my belly. After what feels like minutes, she releases him and Snow turns to say goodbye to Shepard. Shepard had quickly become part of the team with his unique knowledge set, he knew the kinds of things simply not talked about in the world of mages. His obscure creature dossier had gotten us out of dozens of tight scrapes since America, much to the surprise of all of us.

But perhaps even more surprising was how quickly Bunce and Shepard had gone from reluctant allies to dating to moving in together. I suppose facing death again and again together bonds some people. As soon as Bunce and Snow’s lease came up for renewal, Snow offered to find his own place. Or so Bunce told me in the few instances I could glean any information about Snow from her. She did her best to keep our friendship separate from what had happened with Snow and I. Though for her birthday, she asked to have dinner with all her friends together instead of separate celebrations. How could I say no when Bunce keeps only a few close friends in the first place? And anyway it had been 9 months since Snow ended things. It’s not like I hadn’t years of experience repressing my feelings for Snow while in the same room as him.

“Bunce. I hope you had a lovely birthday.” She grins at me and flings her arms around me.

“I did, Baz, thank you. I’ll see you Saturday to study?” While most of our courses are getting more specialized in our chosen majors, we always compare schedules and manage to find one course to take together. I don’t think either of us need our weekly study sessions to keep up on the material, though. It’s one of the things I look forward to every semester. This semester has been especially enjoyable in Literature of the Victorian Age. I nod at her curtly with a small smile but turn quickly to leave, trying to mask my increasing anxiety about being alone with Snow as we head out into the sharp January air.

Simon

He still drives that posh, deep blue jaguar. My heart hitches with all of the memories with him in this car. I lower myself into the passenger seat. It smells even more like Baz in here than the hints of citrus (bergamot, Baz told me once) and cedar I caught on the air each time he passed by me in Penny’s flat. It tugs at my stomach how much I’ve missed him. When he offered to drive me home, I honestly thought I might be hallucinating. But I was most definitely sober. Have been for 6 months. While I don’t think I would call myself an alcoholic exactly, I didn’t have a very healthy relationship with cider there for a while. It was a good suggestion my therapist had to take a break from drinking. It’s brought life back into sharper focus.

A focus I was cursing when Baz walked in. I knew he was going to be at Penny’s birthday, she asked me weeks ago if it was ok. But fuck if he doesn’t just get more and more fit. I would have given anything to break my focus from Baz, standing there, torturing me in his jeans. He had to have known what he was doing when he selected those trousers for this evening. I couldn’t meet his eye the entire night, so I can’t imagine what would possess him to offer me a lift. I can’t imagine a world where Baz doesn’t hate me after I broke up with him. After everything that led up to me leaving him. I almost turned down his offer, that I’d be fine to catch the bus, but I didn’t want to make a fuss on Penny’s night.

So I stayed. Letting the tension of everything unsaid build. Now we’re alone in his car and not saying anything. Fuck, why haven’t I said anything to him all night? Maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward now. We’re sitting here, letting the silence fill up the car until I feel like I should crack a window like a pressure valve. Baz’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “Where to, Snow?”

“Right, erm, head north,” I say to get him started while I let my brain settle.

Baz

I’m panicking trying to find something to say. Snow can’t live far from Bunce. This contrived opportunity is quickly slipping away from me. He directs me to the main street with loads of shops and traffic lights at every intersection. He really must not be far if we’re not taking the motorway. I slow my speed to hover below the limit just enough that maybe he won’t notice my stalling tactic.

I force myself to say the only thing I can conjure up, even though it’s painfully banal. “Bunce mentioned you started working at a vet’s office?” I draw on every reserve I have to keep my tone casual, as if the topic came up naturally in conversation with Bunce, and it’s not one of the few bits of information I greedily horde anytime I’m desperate enough to ask after him.

I see Snow sit a bit taller in his seat just mere inches from me. I’d forgotten how heady it is to be in such close quarters with him. I can feel warmth radiating from his arm on the center console and my chest tightens. “Yeah, I really love it. ‘S mostly dogs and cats, but sometimes we get something different. A goat was in just the other day.” His voice is saccharine and quiet with fondness and a tinge of melancholy. I know he’s thinking about the goatherd, Ebb. I realize with a start how … at peace? … he sounds mentioning one of the most traumatic events of his recent past. I’m slowing to a full stop at a red light (bless these main street lights that change every minute, drawing out our drive) and I decide to risk looking over at him. His smile lights up as he meets my gaze. I feel my face soften and the corner of my mouth tilt up ever so slightly before I drag my eyes back to the light, lest I miss the change to green and show my hand.

Simon

Before I knew what I was doing, I started directing Baz the long way to my flat, through town instead of speeding up the motorway. Something deep in my brain is making a plea, drive slow, cause I don’t want to go home.

“What about you? Have you a major?” I ask, as if I don’t already know. Penny lets information about Baz slip into her long rants and raves about uni every once in a while, and I just save up those little bits and pieces of him. It’s not the same as really knowing how he’s doing, but it’s something.

Baz launches into a long explanation of which majors he’s considered and why, before settling on English Lit. It’s unsurprising, really, that he’d major in literature. I’m looking out the windshield at the dark and wet street scene crawling by while I smile, thinking about Baz being so Baz. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. This feels almost normal. We’ve never just been normal together like this before. After years of hostility, we were thrown directly into the chaos of ending the humdrum. And then… well, then I wasn’t really fully present. I didn’t know how to live without directives from the Mage. They gave me the only purpose I ever knew, the only purpose I thought I’d ever get to have. So after that was all gone, I didn’t know how to go about living life. Me not living was keeping Baz from living. I couldn’t keep holding him back. As long as I was stuck, he was going to be stuck right there with me. Loyal git. What made it harder was I couldn’t get unstuck with the pressure of Baz’s fate being tied to mine. So, there was no choice but to end us. But now... Now, we’re having a normal conversation, like just a couple of normal blokes, catching up.

If I hadn’t been on a few dates lately to know better, I would have mistaken our conversation for a kind of date-like banter. But since Penny helped me set up a profile on a dating app, I know that most first date conversations don’t make a warm blush spread across my chest and redden my cheeks. They definitely don’t make me give shoddy directions just to draw out the evening. “Take a right at the next light,” I say.

Baz

We’ve crept along mainstreet for miles now, surely Snow isn’t so dense that he doesn’t know a better route from Bunce’s by now? We’re getting closer to where the motorway exits into this neighborhood. It could have taken less than 10 minutes via motorway to get here, which is a bit suspect, honestly. Don’t question it, you got 25 minutes with Simon instead of 10, I chide myself.

As we turn, the new Italian restaurant that’s been getting rave reviews catches my attention. Even though it’s late and their dinner service must be winding down, most of the candlelit tables still have patrons. “Prima - I’ve been hearing about it everywhere. Their chef, Lucien Ngono, supposedly works wonders with his scratch pasta.” I’m looking to say anything to fill the lull in our conversation.

“Yeah, ‘s really good.” Snow remarks, off-handedly.

“You’ve been?” I try not to sound too surprised. Prima is expensive and not exactly easy to get a table with the attention they’ve been receiving. In the pause before Snow responds, reality sinks into place. Snow’s been dating. My stomach drops. What did I expect? That he would sit around, mooning after me like I’ve done him? He broke up with me, after all. Silence creeps back in and fills all the available space, wedging between Snow and me.

“I’m just up here on the left, the brown building near the end of the block.” Snow directs me. I push the stick shift into park as the car comes to a stop near the old building. The click and swish of Snow’s seat belt has me holding my breath, bracing for the pain of his imminent departure. “Baz…” His voice is quiet and tentative. I turn towards him as he shifts, struggling to turn his whole body my direction. Our eyes meet, but I drop my gaze. This is much too close to look directly into his eyes while he’s talking to me in those low, rumbled whispers. “I…”

I hold my tongue and resist the urge to insult him. Instead, I wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry, you know. For. Well, for how distant I was.”

I huff. “Snow, I think most exes try to maintain some level of distance.”

“No, Baz. Um, that’s not…” His hand is at the back of his neck, harassing his curls there. He stops suddenly, bringing his hand down to his lap. He closes his eyes, and slowly breathes in. And out. When he opens his eyes he’s looking down at his hands instead of at me. “What I mean to say is, I’m sorry I was distant while we… when we were together.”

When we were together. His acknowledgement of our history is jarring. I don’t talk about our relationship with anyone. I certainly didn’t think I’d ever talk about me and Snow with Snow, of all people. I open my mouth, hoping I’ll find something, anything, I can say, but no words form. My mounting embarrassment is luckily interrupted by this gorgeous numpty looking back up at me, meeting my eyes. I can’t tear my gaze away this time. I can’t believe I’m watching Simon Snow make amends about the disaster that was our relationship.

“Would you want to get coffee sometime?” His voice is low and warm and full of hope and drawing me nearer to him. I’m leaning closer as he continues rattling on. “We could go to the shop you like, the one that makes your drink just like you like, whatsit, a pumpkin bravo something?” I want to close the short distance between us, but Simon’s eyes flick down to my mouth and back up, and I’m flooded with memories of every kiss of mine he’s pulled away from, every moment of passion he’s stopped short, and I can’t move any closer.

Simon

Baz is leaning across the console and I’m babbling nonsense about coffee drinks. My eyes drop to his lips and my heart squeezes in my chest. There was a time when kissing Baz and being kissed by Baz were two very different things. Back then, when I was the one doing the kissing, it was like sprinting passionately into a fight, greeting it head on. It filled me with a sense of power, of strength. But being kissed was something else entirely. It felt like losing control, being caught off guard; it felt like losing ground in a fight.

But this isn’t any of that. Baz is leaning in and the pull to meet him in the middle is washing through my body. I shift closer to him, leaning across the center console, giving him the permission he needs to press his lips to mine. I feel the rush of letting Baz lead our kiss, fear and excitement truly feel quite similar, don’t they?, and then Baz is tentatively licking a small stripe on my lower lip. I part my lips and before I know it, Baz’s hand is around the back of my neck, pulling me deeper into our kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth and then drawing my tongue forward as he retreats. My hand reaches up and cards through his hair, grazing past his shoulder and skimming down the side of his body, coming to rest in the notch just above his hip. The warmth that started at the center of my chest shifts lower and I know I need to pull this back before I get carried away. I want to take this second chance with Baz slow, I want to rebuild our trust in each other first. It takes everything I have to pull myself away from Baz, from Baz’s pinkened lips. I pull a couple sharp gulps of air into my lungs, trying to catch my breath.

“So, coffee? Sunday?” I say between the rising and falling of our chests. I look hopefully at Baz. There’s a beautiful blush across his cheeks.

His lips quirk to the side. “Yes, Sunday would be lovely, Simon.”

Baz

Simon is grinning like it’s the first roast beef dinner of the year at Watford, and there’s sour cherry scones for dessert. I roll my eyes so he can’t tell how chuffed I am at his excitement. He can probably tell anyway.

“Sunday,” he repeats.

“Yes, Snow,” I retort sarcastically. “The day has been established.”

He smiles at me again. “Bye, Baz.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He leans across and kisses me once more, strong and sturdy, but much too short. And then he’s out of the car and disappearing into his building. I’m in a stupor after being kissed senseless by Snow. I will my body back into motion so I can drive home. I take side roads and I drive slow, cause I don’t want to go home. If I go home, I might break this spell of whatever feeling this is filling my senses. Sunday will bring something else, but for now, I’m intoxicated by the mere potential of it all.

#carry on sparks #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz fanfiction #snowbaz fic

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

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Accidents Happen - Mothers, Maggots, and Manacles

Summary: Roman finally visits Remus in search of answers, and doesn’t like what he finds. Ah - if anybody is fluent in Korean and wants to correct me on anything, please do!

Content: Discussions of drug and alcohol use and misuse, some bad parenting, mentions of skipping meals

Word count: 5,433

{Part 2} {Part 4}

Janus knew Remus.

Roman didn’t remember standing up, but he was definitely glad for the fact that he was pacing. He felt that his brain was about to explode.

Janus, the ideal student, the one with perfect grades and a small fleet of academic awards (they were in a glass-fronted cabinet in his home - Roman had seen them when he had been trying to find the toilet), who headed the debate club and had every teacher at their school eating out of the palm of his hand, knew Remus the walking hazard.

Roman turned sharply in front of his dresser, caught sight of his notebook still lying open on the bed, and scowled.

Not only did Janus know Remus, but he knew him well. Well enough, at any rate, to have Remus being the person to call if he lost his phone.

He was back beside his bedside table, turning to pace the room again.

What did that mean?

Did it mean that they spent a lot of time together? No, that couldn’t be right. Roman would know if Janus and Remus were friends. Remus had no filter, was incapable of keeping a secret - he was almost like Patton in that regard, Roman reflected. The fastest way to make sure that everybody knew something was to tell Remus or Patton. And if Remus and Janus were friends and did spend time together, why didn’t one of them say something at the trial?

Maybe Roman had typed the wrong number. He was so used to calling Remus in fruitless attempts to find out what exactly the substance in his slippers was, or whether he should be concerned about the red smudges on his brother’s door handle, that maybe he hadn’t typed the number he had thought he was typing. His fingers had fallen into a pattern they recognised, the same way his feet had done, carrying him from bed to dresser and from dresser to bed and back again.

That made sense, didn’t it?

“No! No, it doesn’t!” Roman gave his phone a vengeful glare, as though it were the one at fault here. He never dialled Remus’ phone number, preferring to do what any self-respecting person born since the invention of a contacts list did and simply stab the name he wanted to call with his forefinger.

The tips of his fingers felt stiff and tingly, and he paused by the bed to take a long, slow breath. Letting stress overwhelm him now was not going to be productive.

“Roman? Everything alright in here?” There was a soft tap at his bedroom door, and Roman had the foresight to flip his notebook to a blank page before his mother’s floral scent and tired eyes entered the room.

“I… Yes? Is something the matter, Mum?”

“I just…” She paused, covering her mouth with one hand to catch a yawn, and then continued. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

Roman winced. Had he woken her up? Dae Wang’s short hair was matted against one side of her head, and she was wearing a rumpled nightshirt and sweatpants despite it being the middle of the afternoon. “Oh… Yeah, I was just practicing for a part in the play. I know I’m not actually in it this year, but I… Enjoy being able to coach the younger students.”

The lie had rolled from his tongue almost without hesitation, and his mother’s eyes softened slightly. She reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, and Roman batted her away automatically, the static feeling spreading up to his wrists. “Try to keep it down, Ro? I didn’t get home until around one, and I’ve got another shift this evening…”

“Sorry. Actually, I was just thinking about going for a walk - it’s such a nice day, and I can take some flashcards through the woods. Might be nice to revise with a bit of a change of scenery, huh?” More lies. Sure, Roman was used to lying a little bit, but now it felt as though every other thing that came out of his mouth was deliberate misdirection. First with Janus, and now with his parents…

“You work so hard… I’m so proud of you, Roman.” Those were words that Roman was used to hearing; usually, he revelled in them. Now, however, they only made him feel more guilty. What about Remus? Yes, he was a screw-up, but… Roman couldn’t remember the last time either of his parents had said something positive to his brother. Worse, he couldn’t remember the last time he had said something properly positive to him.

The words were out of his mouth before he had made a proper decision about them. “Can I borrow your car tomorrow? I’d like to visit Remus.”

Dae looked at him for a second, apparently stunned by the fact that he wanted to visit his identical twin. Then she nodded slowly. “You can, but… Roman, saja saekki, are you sure you want to?”

“He hasn’t hurt me, Mum. He’s my brother.” And he shouldn’t be left to rot, Roman added silently. There’s something we don’t know yet.

“I know. You’re always so kind to people, even when they don’t deserve it, I just… I don’t want him dragging you down, Ro. He’s only going to get worse, and maybe… Maybe this is the time for a clean break for you.” Roman stared at her, the shock clear on his face. She sighed. “Being associated with Remus… It’s not going to be good for your future, is it?”

It looked as though she was waiting for him to say something now, and Roman refused to give her anything. Was this what his parents really thought of Remus? Sure, he knew that Remus had been getting into more and bigger problems as he had gotten older, but… It hadn’t quite sunk in, when they had asked Remus not to come home, that they didn’t want him to be part of their family any more.

What sort of family were they? Why hadn’t Roman tried talking Remus out of his chaos sooner, rather than pinning all of his own misdeeds on him? It felt as though his torso had been emptied out and refilled with ice cubes.

Eventually, his mother seemed to translate Roman’s silent staring as something less than what she had been hoping for. “Okay. Don’t stay too late, though. It is finals week, after all.”

Roman nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

He leaned forward to allow her to kiss his forehead, then watched her leave, numb, the breath frozen in his chest.

He needed to get out of here. All of the colours had leached out of the world around him. Usually so spacious, his bedroom seemed to have shrunk to the size of a broom cupboard, and Roman was so much too big for it, and everything inside him was threatening to brim over, to spill from his fingertips and his mouth and his eyes in a burning torrent of… Of what?

As he moved, he started counting in his head, trying to focus on just getting the numbers in the right order. One, two, three and he was groping under his mattress for his re-hidden supply of weed, purloined from the kitchen table when nobody had been looking. His parents had just been going to burn it, after all.

Four, five, six, seven, phone in his pocket and taking the stairs two at a time, eight, nine, not stopping as he grabbed Remus’ keys and threw the back door open. Ten, and he was down the steps; eleven-twelve-thirteen brought him across the backyard, and by fifteen he was in the greyscale woods behind their house and running as fast as he could.

Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could turn back the hands of the clock, back the four weeks - six weeks? How long had it been since Remus had turned his car and Janus into a fiery wreck? Turn the clock back past that, back to when things were okay. But three weeks wouldn’t do it, would it? Things hadn’t been okay for a long time before that. When was the last time he had had a real conversation with Remus?

When he hit thirty-nine, Roman skidded to an abrupt halt. Small black spots decorated the trees around him and he realised with a start that he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning either, too preoccupied with his raging internal debate about Janus’ moral standings to feel hungry. It didn’t matter. Just then, his whole body was too frozen in black-and-white, fizzingly numb static to even think about eating. He wasn’t sure if he could even swallow just then.

Putting his back to the nearest pine and sliding to the floor, Roman took a few deep breaths to steady his hands before pulling the clear plastic bag from his pockets.

It took longer than usual to shake some of the dark flakes onto one of the small paper rectangles and roll it shut; with his numb hands, it took several tries to get a flame on the lighter attached to Remus’ keychain, and when he did manage it he burned two of his fingers before managing to light the joint. Finally, though, Roman closed his eyes and focused on inhaling, exhaling, just breathing, allowing colour to bleed first back into his own body, and then the forest floor, still strewn with pine needles from last autumn, and then back up to the blue sky. The ice in his torso warmed, thawed a little, and then melted completely as calm washed over him.

He didn’t talk to Janus the next day.

It was the opposite of everything he had told himself he would do yesterday, going against all of his thoughts and notes about not making Janus feel as though he had scared Roman away or that Roman was tired of him or thought he was a freak. It was the opposite of what he wanted to do, which was concerning. Maybe he was getting too close to the role he was playing, because he kept finding himself wanting to go to find Janus, to make stupid little jibes at him and watch them be passed effortlessly back to him. He even thought he might have enjoyed studying with him. No matter how much he told himself that it was just nerves, that he was just worrying that he was losing time on getting closer to whatever truth Janus had been hiding, there was a small part of Roman arguing that that wasn’t the truth.

Janus didn’t try to talk to him, either, which only reinforced his guilt.

He saw him once, on his way out of his Physics final. Janus had half raised his left hand in what could have been a nervous greeting, but dropped it when Roman caught his eye but walked passed without responding otherwise.

He felt like an arse for doing it.

It didn’t help that he had been feeling slightly lightheaded all day. It had been hot in the exam hall, and halfway through his English paper that afternoon Roman found that he couldn’t read anything he was writing. The printed text at the top of the page had blurred into a wavy black bar, and his own ink had become a colony of spiders, crawling over the page in unintelligible shapes. He had blinked hard, then ground the bases of his palms into his eyes and counted (one, two, three… All the way up to thirty-nine). When he looked back at his paper, his handwriting had returned to its usual semi-legible scrawl.

He blamed it on the stress from his afternoon plans.

The previous evening, once he had calmed down a little, Roman had taken a long, meandering walk through the trees, pondering his situation. Eventually he had reached the conclusion that he should go ahead and visit Remus anyway, and that he could ask about Janus then. Remus wouldn’t lie to him.

Or would he? How much of his brother had become a mystery to him?

When he walked into the visitors room and saw Remus, Roman had to admit that the answer was probably a far higher proportion than he would have liked it to be. He actually had to stop and ask himself how long it had been since he had taken a good look at the man that was supposed to be his mirror reflection, because Remus looked almost nothing like him anymore.

The crooked nose was still there, and the pale scar that ran across its bridge, and the jaggedy line down one of Remus’ cheeks from a barbed-wire sledding accident, but there were other marks too, smaller but still there. Roman could count no less than seven piercing holes in Remus’ right ear (Roman’s right, Remus’ left), for example, and another in his left eyebrow. There were several acne scars that looked as though Remus had picked them until they refused to heal properly, and what looked like a burn was poking out from the next of his jumpsuit. His hands and knuckles were littered with mostly healed scabs, easy to see because they were pressed palms-down on the table, a nervous habit that Roman remembered from when they were small. Deep bags hung under Remus’ bloodshot eyes.

All in all, it was a bit of a surprise when Remus opened his mouth before Roman got a chance to say anything, and commented, “You look like shit, brother mine. Come to trade places with me?” There was another piercing hole in his tongue.

The statement startled a chuckle out of Roman, and he sat down across the table and smiled weakly at him. “I look like shit? Have you checked in a mirror lately, dude? It doesn’t look like you’ve slept since… You know.”

“Since I drove the fine piece of ass that is Janus Sinclaire into a telephone pole and turned him into crispy bacon? What’s a little more nightmare fodder, huh Ro? At least I still look like I’m getting a decent meal.” Remus cackled briefly and lifted a hand to rub at the empty shell of his pierced ear while Roman tried to figure out which part of Remus’ statement to poke at. Since when did Remus think Janus was a ‘fine piece of ass’ - since when did Remus even think about Janus? And what right did Remus have to talk about him like that, anyway?

In the end, he just blurted, “You’ve been having nightmares again?”

Leaning back in his chair so that its front legs left the ground, Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh? This is a fucking welfare check? Did the right honorable parents send you?” He lifted one hand to inspect his nails - nails that Roman could now see had been bitten until the cuticles bled. He winced.

“The right honorable… I’ll answer your questions if you’ll answer mine. You’ve been having nightmares again?” Roman had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t get anything out of his reflection unless he bribed him; his deal was met with another cackle, and Remus tipped further back on his chair.

“Fine. Want to shake on it?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not, given the unspeakable places those hands have been. So, nightmares?”

Remus looked up from his nails, flicked his middle finger up, then turned his attention to the ceiling above them. “You know the nightmares never stopped, Ro-ro. Did the spawners send you?”

“The what? Oh - no, I’m here on my own.” Roman glanced over his shoulder briefly. There were only three other people in the visitation room - discounting the two guards, one on either door - and they were on the other side of the room. “What do you mean, never stopped? You stopped having nightmares when we were thirteen.”

He felt as though he were being watched. Was this how Remus felt all the time? No wonder his nightmares had gotten worse.

“You’re yanking my dick, right? Of course they didn’t stop. I just figured out how to stop screaming. If you’re not here for the womb and the sperm, why are you here?”

Roman wrinkled his nose at that, then shrugged. “You… Figured out how to stop screaming? How? Nothing we tried ever worked. And I’m here because I wanted to ask you some stuff.”

“About my nightmares?” The incredulity in Remus’ voice was so overdone that Roman had to laugh again.

“No, you idiot. And you didn’t answer my question.” Roman brought his thumb up to his mouth and bit down on the nail, realised what he was doing, and laced his fingers together in front of him.

Remus was still addressing his nails. “What did you want to ask me? Because I can tell you any number of better places to hide your pot - didn’t know you did that, by the way, since when? - and can probably hook you up with a cheaper dealer if that’s what you need.”

“No, that’s not - maybe a year now? Helps with the…” Roman waved a hand, and Remus nodded wisely.

“The ball-twisting stomach-gnawing digit-freezing stress-moths.”

“That’s… Not how I would have phrased it, but… Wait, why am I answering all the questions?” Remus finally looked at Roman again, meeting his look of frustration with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t know. Why are you answering all the questions, Ro-ro?”

“Because you keep -” Roman started automatically, then clamped his mouth shut and glared.

Remus threw his head back and cackled so hard that his chair teetered precariously on its hind legs. When he finally stopped, he flicked his fingers briefly at Roman in a gesture that he took as ‘continue’. Taking a deep breath, Roman opened with the question that he had finally decided was the best one to start with.

“Did you know Janus well?”

For a heartbeat, he thought he saw Remus’ face, bold despite its scars and hollowed eyes, crease into something he didn’t recognise. Then the grin was back, and the chair was tilted so far that Remus was practically horizontal in the air, face to the ceiling.

“Alcohol. Started getting wasted.”

“What?”

“To get the screaming to stop. If I clocked out pissed, I didn’t scream. Didn’t wake up all night, actually. Did start getting headaches, felt sick all the time. It sucked. Did that for about six months, if I recall correctly, which I do, because my brain hasn’t been eaten by maggots.”

Roman was staring at his twin with his mouth hanging open. “What?”

“The nightmares, Ro-ro. To stop screaming. Is this hard for you to follow?” Remus’ head lifted to look at him, then his wild eyes shifted to something behind Roman. The front legs of his chair returned to the floor with a snap.

“I asked about Janus, Rem. The guy you just described as crispy bacon?” The words grated against Roman’s conscience. Janus deserved better than being mocked like that.

Remus nodded slowly, then continued as though Roman hadn’t said anything. “So I quit drinking myself to sleep and started trying to stay up all night instead. Did a lot of coffee. Who needs sleep, I said. Very wise, me. Started hallucinating, though. That was an interesting few days. Eventually I just collapsed, and then I started screaming again, so no go there.”

Roman groaned quietly, resigned to listening to the tangent that Remus had apparently decided was more important than Janus was. He vaguely remembered that his brother used to jump between conversations with the rapidity of a highly skilled traceur. His verbal parkour had never been anything but annoying.

“So I started playing with drugs. Nothing major, obviously. Nothing fun. Bit of weed, didn’t help at all. Sure, helped calm me down, but once I fell asleep, poof. Screaming.” Remus snapped his fingers a few times, and Roman nodded slowly.

“So then, after a lot of experimentation that didn’t -”

“Wait.” Roman held up a hand as the maths fell into place, and Remus paused obediently, tilting his head to look at him. His hand had returned to tug at his pierced ear. “You’re telling me you started drinking when you were thirteen?”

Remus gave him a look that he recognised as one Janus had given him several times. It said “You’re not really the brightest here, but that’s alright, I’m still fond of you.” Actually, it probably said “You’re a fucking idiot, but I tolerate you.” When he spoke again, his voice reminded Roman very faintly of the sound a thin sheet of ice across a pond makes when it gets trodden on.

“Yes. Keep up, Roman. Sheesh. As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I eventually found that Xanax works fairly well for me - no hangovers, no puke, no spikes through my skull or pissing blood, and no screaming. Just nightmares and sleep paralysis, but y’know, I was getting more sleep.”

“Xanax,” Roman repeated stoically. “Where did you-” His question was interrupted as Remus steamrollered on.

“Then I got here, and obviously they don’t let us screw around with that stuff without a prescription, so I’m back to the old scream’n’stay-awake-’til-morning routine. Happy?” Remus tilted his chair back, seemed to remember that he wasn’t supposed to, and compromised by tilting it sideways instead. He allowed a couple of seconds to pass before raising an eyebrow at Roman. “Or are you just going to leer? You a gargoyle now?”

Shaking himself, Roman rubbed a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. It was later than he had thought it was, and he was certain that visiting hours were going to be over soon. Licking his lower lip, he nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Happy, no. You should’a said something, Rem? We could have…”

“Could have done what?” The brittle quality was still there, but now Remus’ voice was sharper, colder. Roman knew he had said the wrong thing. “Could have helped? Found some pill that would’ve lobotomized me so I’m just a cud-muching sheep?” There was another crack as Remus’ chair legs returned to the ground, and then his palms were pressed to the table once more. He was leaning forwards, voice so low Roman had to crane his neck to hear it, and for the first time Roman actually saw a shadow of something truly frightening on Remus’ face. “Our parents were too busy wondering where they went wrong with me and rewarding you for being perfect. Too busy trying to erase me from our fucked-up family. And you were too busy letting them, getting me to take your falls for you, using me to wipe away all the shit stains on your perfect little bubble. And look where I am now! Just where you always expected me to end up. So fuck off with your empty regret, Ro. I don’t expect anyone from our house to help me, got it?”

Remus’ voice cracked on the last word, and he jerked to his feet, one hand rising to scrub roughly across his dark eyes. “We’re done here. Fuck off.” A guard had started moving toward them the moment he had stood.

Roman stood as well, expression frozen to one between shock and horror, something hot and painful rising in his throat. It wasn’t vomit - he’d been too stressed to eat lunch. “Remus, I…”

“Save it,” his twin snapped. The guard was right beside them now, ready to escort Remus away again, and Roman had no idea how to make anything right. “And Roman?”

His heart rose, but his hopes were dashed almost immediately by the raw expression on Remus’ face. “Leave Jan alone.”

Roman spent almost thirty minutes just sitting in the parking lot, racking sobs forcing their way from his body. He wasn’t even sure who he was crying for, only that the emotions were going to force themselves from his chest whether he liked it or not. It was probably safer not to drive and cry so hard the world was blurry around him.

He could have been crying for Remus as he had been, thirteen and aware that their parents had chosen Roman as their favourite, wracked by nightmares and trying to teach himself to stay silent at night to avoid disturbing anybody, repeatedly told that he was a bad kid until he truly became one.

He could have been crying for his own blindness, his refusal to see that he was trading Remus’ pain for his every time he was too panicked to own up to his own wrongdoings, the damage he had done to their relationship - the damage that Remus had pretended he hadn’t minded. Why? Why hadn’t he said something?

He could have been crying for their parents, not sure what to do with a son that skipped school and went shoplifting, drinking, setting things on fire, foulmouthed and reckless, their confusion turning to regret and then something approaching neglect.

He could have been crying for Janus, eighteen and burned, his once honey-like voice raspy and hoarse. It hurt for Janus to swallow now - he had noticed it over the last few weeks, the slight wince after every bite.

He could have been crying for Remus as he was now, just as lost as he had been at fifteen, at thirteen, at ten, but now his pain was manifesting in bigger and bigger disasters. Remus, the scape-goat, who didn’t trust their parents, who didn’t trust him.

It wasn’t as though he deserved Remus’ trust, though. As far as his twin knew, Roman would probably have taken the trust Remus placed in him and turned it into more ammunition to make himself seem ever closer to heaven and demonise Remus even further.

No - no, he shouldn’t be crying for Janus. It had taken him until now, but as Roman’s sobs finally subsided he realised that he did recognise the expression that had passed over his brother’s face when he had asked about Janus.

It was fear.

Remus was… Remus was afraid of Janus. (Roman hadn’t thought that Remus was afraid of anything - but he clearly didn’t know his brother at all anymore.) What could Janus have done to inspire fear in somebody as wild, as dangerous, as bold and brash and reckless as Remus?

But if Remus had done what he had out of fear of Janus doing something worse, an attempt to be free of him, why hadn’t he at least spoken up at the hearing? Janus couldn’t have hurt him from all the way across a courtroom.

The answer came to Roman as a cold fist around his heart, the icy fingers making him gasp in shock. That was why Remus was so afraid - “Leave Janus alone”, he had said. Leave Janus alone, because Janus was holding something over him, and whatever it was could ruin Remus for good.

Janus was blackmailing his twin, and Roman wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen now that he knew.

No, Janus didn’t deserve his tears. Janus deserved everything he had gotten, and more, and Roman was going to make sure that karma was delivered right to his door.

When he got home that evening, he found that somebody had left a voicemail on his phone (he had left it in his room, not needing it while he was visiting Remus). He thought he knew who it was even before the worm-ridden chainsaw-murderer voice curled into the room with him.

“Hey, Roman. Didn’t see you much at school today. Uh.”

A second of silence, as though Janus was awkwardly trying to work out what to say. Masterful. Janus had played him like a master.

“We were both pretty busy, I guess.”

Another pause. How had Janus gotten his number? Maybe he was blackmailing Virgil, too, and had forced him to give it over. (Or he could just have asked. Virgil probably had Roman’s number, and would probably just hand it over for a price.)

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d… Um, want to do something on Friday. Y’know, to celebrate the end of finals, and… Stuff. Not much point us revising once the exams are done, eh, Princey?”

The nervous, teasing tone was making Roman’s teeth grate. I’m coming for you, you snake. You viper.

“We could… See a movie, or something. Or just hang out. Pat gave me the recipe for his toffee cookies, we could try making them!”

Yet another pause. Roman wanted to throw his phone across the room - but if Janus was asking to see him, that probably meant that he didn’t know that Roman was onto him, and that he was going to continue his sinister plans. Only now, Roman knew what was going on.

Janus’ voice lost it’s jovial quality, becoming possibly slightly sad. There was a chance that he was a better actor than even Roman. “Of course… If you don’t want to, that’s… I mean, I know yesterday wasn’t ideal. I’m… Really sorry you had to see that. If you don’t want to hang around me now, that’s… That’s okay.” There had even been a slight hitch in his breathing as he spoke, as though the idea of not talking to Roman anymore had pushed him to the verge of tears. He really was putting on a whole performance for him, wasn’t he?

“Um, anyway. Call me, or… Whatever. Text. Leave me a note, stalk me to my locker. Or don’t, if you’d rather not. I won’t bother you if you don’t want to see me anymore. Um. I’m going to hang up now. Oh - this is Janus, by the way, but I… I’d hope you’d already figured that out now. It just occurred to me that you probably didn’t have my number. Yeah. I’m hanging up.”

The call lasted for another few seconds, the only sound being Janus’ breathing - which Roman suddenly noticed had a laboured quality to it, the breaths sounding dry and scratchy. Then there was a click, and the automated voice asking Roman if he wanted to delete the message.

Well, then. He should get back to work. He wouldn’t mention having visited Remus to Janus - not yet, anyway - just in case he went ahead with whatever threat he had hanging over him, but he could make up some excuse for why he had all but ignored Janus that day. As much as he wanted to slam Janus against the wall the next time he saw him, hold him there by the front of his shirt and force him to explain, to apologise, to leave him and his brother alone, he couldn’t do that, either.

If Janus already wanted to hang out on Friday, he probably wouldn’t mind if Roman suggested they did something. Now that he knew just how evil Janus was, Roman pushed away shrieks and squeals from his moral compass with almost no regret. All he had to do was get Janus to talk, hopefully enough to get something on him to make him drop his case against Remus - and whilst Janus was usually so guarded with his words, Roman knew a way to get people to relax. There was nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t like he’d force Janus to do anything, of course - he wasn’t going to stoop to his level. He’d just mention that the woods were a good place to smoke and blow off some steam, and invite Janus to join him.

It had taken him a while to compose the text; when he was finished, he threw his phone back on his bed and went downstairs to have dinner with his parents. They had already removed Remus’ chair from the circular dining table: it was sitting out in the hallway, holding his dad’s briefcase and his mum’s coat, and the remaining chairs had been arranged in a triangle. Neither of his parents asked how his visit to Remus had been - in fact, Remus wasn’t mentioned at all. Already, it was as though he may as well not exist.

Janus had done this, Roman told himself, and that fact did something to calm the slimy ball of worms writhing inside him. Yes, he had contributed, but it had been Janus who had dealt the final blow to erase his twin from their lives. Janus was going to pay, and Roman would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Remus.

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@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #AccidentsHappenAU #drug use #alcohol mention

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