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magnoliabutters · 1 year

Text

• FEELING EVERYTHING •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: so what kas saved your life?! it’s not like you owe him everything…

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, enemies to lovers trope, season 4 spoilers, previous parts mentioned; sexy angst, slight suicidal ideation, manipulation, child abuse (previous trauma mentioned), toxic ass kas, sexual advances tied with a misunderstanding, hot and cold dynamics, dwugs, depression, grief, anxiety (panic), y/n count: 3, etc.

word count: ~8.9k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are appreciated 🦇

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: as always, thank you for the patience! we're almost coming to a close y'all! in this part, i tried to challenge myself to focus more on describing the visuals and the scene. let me know your thoughts! i cannot wait to read your reactions!

note to the note: my partner, who was so kind to beta-read, found an inconsistency around the border of vecna’s “new world.” you may or may not catch it. i just wanna share i am aware, and i am upset haha unfortunately caught it too late 🥲

The dried grass is rough against your shins. A sea of plains ahead that curl into waves with each blow of the wind. The orange streaked sky, a beautiful sight, now a daunting reminder to find shelter before the night. You wish you could have been here any other time. The gorgeous way the sunlight trickles onto the glossy leaves of the trees. The way the sun feels against your skin. The air just cold enough that the warmth of its rays feel nostalgic.

Eddie would have loved this. The opportunity to find civilization, as though it was some challenging quest. He would have compared it to some battle his Dungeons and Dragons character led the party into. His arms stretched out as he passionately tells the tale of how they won the fight with only a sliver of a chance. A heroic and miraculous story that only he could tell correctly.

He always told stories in a way that made you feel as though you were actually there, feeling each and every emotion. All the ups and downs. He had you clinging to the edge of your seat, clinging onto every word no matter the topic. Your heart warms at the thought of that beautiful mouth speaking a million words a second as he excitedly shares a story. God, how you wish you could see him again.

The uncomfortable scratching of the heavy grass continues to remind you that an oversized t-shirt and panties is not the ideal hiking gear. Not that you exactly had a choice. You struggle to step through the field, stumbling along with your arms held out wide for balance.

“You look like a bird,” Kas scoffs as his thick leather boots crunch against the yellow waves of the pasture. His bare chest still littered with pink scratches. He carelessly plows through the tall grass. Your eyes instinctually roll, leaving another muffled chuckle to drop from his lips. Your hands gradually fall to your side as embarrassment seeps into your pores.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he mutters as he swats away a horse fly. Your annoyance levels have been seriously dampened with the recent events. Kas’ constant “are we there yet” attitude is not helping in the slightest. “I figure if we keep heading north, we’ll get to the highway and,” you bite your lip, tensing your brow as you point over the vast hill. “Um, we’ll just hitchhike.” You shrug, looking back at him with a weakly confident expression. His face deadpanned as he stares back at you with lack lustered eyes.

“Hitchhike?” Kas asks with a monotone. “Yeah,” you grumble in hesitancy. “Doesn’t everyone in a fifty mile radius of Hawkins think I am some satanic serial killer?” he inquires with the side of his lip pulled as he stares at you in judgment. Your eyes fall as you realize your mistake. “Well, um, let’s just find the highway first and figure out what to do from there,” you utter as you push through another bundle of grass. “Okay,” he says in a sing-songy voice as he walks off in front of you.

This is your life now. You try your best not to compare between the two - knowing that would cause you nothing but pain, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to know what you had and what you have lost, and what you have now. A small part of you wishes you had nothing at all.

With great love, comes great vulnerability and despair. You find yourself wondering if it was worth it. If loving Eddie was worth the pain of losing him. Of having his complete opposite inhabit his body and parade the fact that he is no longer the love of your life. In fact, he punishes you for thinking that, as if you could resist the urge. The agony you feel, both physical and emotional, almost pushes you off the edge. The question of “is it worth it?” echoes through your mind.

Kas looks ahead of the pairing. He notes a break in the clear pasture and sees a tree line. His eyes discern its distance, noting that it is a rather thin tree line. Suddenly, he sees motion rushing by behind the trunks. The only vehicles he is used to were filled with and destroyed by Vecna’s blackened veins, but he still identifies the motion as cars. Excitement fills his chest as he hurriedly turns around with a finger pointing at the tree line.

But when he turns, his smile disappears. He watches as your eyes are glued to the ground. Your face is solemn. The edges of your beautiful lips turned downward as your hair covers your face. The excitement immediately shifts to worry as he takes a step towards you. His hand slowly moves to your gaze, interrupting your thoughts.

As your head innocently raises towards him, Kas shoots you a comforting smile. His hands, both naturally and hesitantly, flow to the sides of your arms. You decide to shoot him a weak grin as you appreciate what he is trying so hard to do. And with that, Kas pulls you in - deeply pressured against his chest as his arms wrap around your upper back.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against your ear. His chin finding a place upon the top of your shoulder. Such a familiar feeling, Eddie’s embrace, and yet you have another reminder of his lost presence. You want him so badly. You wish he could be here. That his true self was holding you, comforting you. Your hands fall upon the base of his spine, pulling him tightly into you. Abruptly, the sobs fall from your lips as you push yourself deeper against the warmth of his skin.

Kas knows you are hurting - who wouldn’t be after what you have been through? The thing is he wasn’t sure exactly how much pain filled your saddened soul, but once he heard those sobs - he knew. It is gut wrenching to feel your body heave against his. The pain is so much worse than the sensation of your nails digging against his skin. His hands smooth out your back as he attempts to comfort your contorting body.

Finally, you feel it. You feel everything you have pushed deep within yourself since you heard of Eddie’s passing. The pain. The anguish. The betrayal. The threat of death. The fear of death - an actual impending death - no longer one in the far off future. You lost the love of your life.

Eddie is dead.

And your heart has felt empty since your realization of this. Your knees give out and both you and Kas fall to the floor. Kneeling beside each other and still stuck in a beautiful embrace.

As tears stream down your face, Kas pulls away slightly to look at you. His brows push together as his thumb traces against your cheeks. “Sh, sh, sh,” he whispers as one of his hands caresses the back of your head. He pulls you gently and closer to his chest. His chin now resting against your hairline.

Abruptly, you pull away, sniffling as you do. You are confident you look a hot mess but you don’t care, not even a little. You wipe your nose as your eyes darken before him. He stares at you in confusion and worry. His body aching for your touch.

“You said you saved me,” you start slowly, attempting to push down the sobs that climb your throat. “That you would have never killed me.” Kas nods with curiosity as your eyes raise to his. “I-I want to talk about something and I don’t want to hear shit about it,” you spit out harshly. However, your expression immediately returns to the vulnerable girl that Kas has grown to love. It leaves a hint of a smile on his face.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asks softly. With a deep sigh, you mumble, “I want to talk about Eddie.” Kas winces at the name, something you immediately notice. Another physical pain shoots through your chest as you prepare your body for his rejection. He takes a deep breath, placing his palms to his knees as he slowly nods with eyes to the ground beneath you both.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. Your heart fills with joy, enough to completely disregard his body language. Soft sobs follow your laughter. Your hand pushes the tears away from your cheeks as he slowly raises his head. “He was beautiful,” you choke out whimpers with an ambiguous smile to your face. “He is easily the best person I have ever met,” you laugh out weakly.

A small, tight smile forms on Kas’ face as his hand slides behind your head once again. He pulls you into the side of his neck. His other hand collapsing around your crying body. “At first, I had no idea how he could be so confident and silly,” a smile emerges on your face as he wipes another round of tears from your cheeks.

“Do you remember any of his rants in the cafeteria?” you ask excitedly. Your inexperience with vulnerability attempting to make the conversation less one-sided. The smile on his face slowly grows as a low hum of a chuckle riffles in his throat. He slowly nods as his grip tightens at your waist. "I remember one distinctly about how the cafeteria stopped giving out corn on the cob," he answers.

In the midst of a laugh, you pull back to look at his face. “What else do you remember?” you ask, placing a hand to his chest. Tears now well in your eyes, as opposed to flowing down your cheeks. Kas takes a deep breath, following the press of his tongue against the back of his front teeth.

The silence flattens your grin. You lean backwards to pull your thighs and legs from his knees. The tightness and excitement in his chest persists as Kas remembers how his words impact you. How your smile grows any time he shares a memory. How his heart flutters at the sound of your giggle.

He winces, disgusted with the warm, cuddley shit that Eddie’s more accustomed to. And yet, here he is - desperate to put a smile on your incredible face. A part of him wonders if you were manipulating him. Show him a grin and he is a puddle between your thighs. He hates the hold you have over him. How your happiness makes his undead heart beat.

Kas wonders if he will ever have autonomy, or if he will continue to be a slave for others as long as his mystical life will allow. His body craves for yours, pushing his mind to find a way back to caressing your soft skin. He sorts through the hazy fog and recollected memories.

With a huff, he shares, “I remember the day you made Mac n Cheese.” He lightly taps his fingers against his thighs as he adjusts to sit cross legged. His eyes were down, but he could see you beaming off-center of his gaze.

“We were with, um,” he hesitates as he looks up. His hands quickly move around, gesturing as he speaks. “Wayne,” the name pops out eagerly from your sweet lips. An encouraging nod to follow. “Wayne, yeah,” Kas agrees slowly, pretending as though he did not know exactly who his uncle, Wayne Edward Munson, was.

“He liked you,” Kas says, lifting his brow as a smirk appears on his cheek. You laugh to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest. “You know, Eddie - I mean - he told me that but I still wasn’t sure,” you end with a chuckle. His eyes lift to yours - those button eyes comparable to your childhood teddy bear. They always left happiness ringing through your body.

He shakes his head. “No, darlin’,” he starts. “There’s no world where you wouldn’t be on anyone’s good side.” With a slight chuckle, he adds, “Hell, I kept pushing you away and I couldn’t stay hating you.” You bite your lip, trying to hide the largest smile since you last kissed Eddie. “I am pretty loveable, aren’t I?” you ask sheepishly. With his tongue stuck to his canine, he lets out a deep sigh paired with a smile. “Yeah,” he says slyly and with a shrug. “I guess that’s true.”

Your eyes flow towards the sky, noting the bright stars twinkling above. The joy you feel is addicting. Something incomparable to the last few days. You dare not disturb it. And yet...

“There was something about your family,” Kas starts with a furrowed brow. A memory floods his brain, something he did not account for. “It was complicated. You had so many locks, to be safe - to feel safe.” Your smile dropped, but he had not noticed. His eyes pull straight, narrowing as he attempts to grab hold of this memory.

“They hurt you,” Kas lets out as a sigh, as though the realization was just then. “Why didn’t he do anything about it?” he asks in an accusatory tone. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and his back straightens. He places his sights on you. Your hands push together, sliding between your thighs. Eyes resting upon them as the sadness sinks in your heart.

“Eddie, you just don’t understand,” you say as you harshly push the tear from your cheek. “No, baby, I understand completely. What do you think my dad did to me before Wayne ran him off?” Eddie whisper yells as he points up the stairs. “They can’t keep doing this to you!” The fire fueling in his stomach is the same firing his clenched fists. How dare they hurt you? How dare anyone lay a finger on you?

“Please, Eddie, please just stop,” you mumble in between cries. Your hand pulling at his arm, creating distance between him and the stairs. Eddie could see your eyes were fixated on your bedroom door. “No, y/n,” he says abruptly. His stance fixed and firm. His eyes unrecognizable.

Eddie pulls his arm from your grasp, causing you to take a step back. But quickly, he grabs hold of your forearm. His fingers squeezing against your skin as he tugs you closer to him. His other hand lightly lands next to the assorted bruises you had up and down your arm. Gently, he raises your arm to show the purple splotches thrown against your ribs that were hidden by your shirt. He expected the surprise on your face, as he knew you thought he only saw the marks on your arm.

“Y/n, there is no way in hell that this is okay,” Eddie says through grinding teeth. Heavied breaths fall from his flared nostrils as he looks up at the stairway again. “Eddie,” you say weakly as tears run rampant down your face. “Please, you’re hurting me,” you share as you lightly push at his hardened grip.

Eddie quickly turns around with horror on his face as his eyes are met with the dark pink imprints of his fingers upon your skin. He stumbles back with his hand placed against his chest. “I-I I’m sorry,” he starts as he backs into a support beam. A small cough exists between you two as he clears his throat. His eyes watering as his chin glues stuck against his chest.

“Baby,” you crumble before him. Your hand leading your body as it lands softly against his cheek. His hand collapsing over yours. Your other rests against his sternum. “Eddie, baby, you didn’t mean it...”

Kas snaps his eyes towards you. Abruptly, he pulls himself from the memory, having seen everything he needed to see. His brows push together as his upper lip slightly pulls. “He hit you?” he asks with shock thick in his intonation. A hand reaches out to your knee.

“Excuse me?” you pull away disgusted. You cannot help but stand and look down at him. “I just,” you chuckle in disbelief, giving up further with each breath you take. Your hands gesturing with a shrug. “I wanted to be happy, remember the times when life was actually good, for once.” A scoff falls, and you shake your head. “It’s like you want me to be in pain - to suffer along with you.” Eyes looking off into the night sky, desperate to go back to that happiness. But it does not come.

Kas pulls his hand away, landing it softly against his lap. A white hot flash spreading between his nostrils and eyes. He meant to make you happy, but he remembered something. He pursued it, like he figured you would want him to. But maybe not this memory. Are there bad memories between the lovebirds?

Like a switch, his anger kicks in. An undeniable defense mechanism that he will continue to deny. “And what pain am I in, darlin’?” he scoffs. Your eyes flick up, searching for some sign of dismay in his. You find absolutely none. “God, just never mind,” you throw your head as you continue forward, brushing the thought off to hide yourself from more pain.

“No, no, no, little lady,” Kas laughs as he grabs your forearm, pulling you backwards. “We’re still talking.” The whiplash of his grip twists your body into his. His other hand quickly falls at the base of your back as he pulls you onto him. “Let go of me, asshole,” you demand brutally as you push against him. He laughs as he lets you stumble back. An ache begins to ring in your wrist.

“You want to talk, Kas, fine,” you yell at him, pushing your palms harshly against his bare chest. His stumble back is met with another condescending chuckle. “Eddie never hurt me.” You can feel your entire face tensing up. Every muscle, even those you didn’t even know you had.

“Don’t forget, I was there,” Kas mocks, pointing a finger to his temple. “You weren’t there,” you spit out. “Those are Eddie’s.” He laughs, leaning over and holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath and in a combustion of sarcasm and genuineness, he softly says, “Eddie’s not here anymore.”

Now, it is your turn to scoff. “And you just love reminding me,” you say, shame-filled. He chuckles, his head swaying side to side as he settles into his suave stance. Confident, boisterous, annoying.

“You do understand though, right?” you ask with confidence. He adjusts immediately detecting that he now has a contender in front of him, as opposed to a weak girl. “Eddie never hurt me,” you say softly. “You, on the other hand, you’ve hurt me every second since I met you,” you end with a hiss.

Kas’ lips fall into a line. His eyes raking over your facial features, processing those sinful words. You watch, pleased with his response. You soak in the pain displayed exclusively on his face without regret. “What was that again?” you exaggerate thinking with a finger bouncing off your chin. “What pain are you in, darlin’? This kind,” you end with disgust as you point him up and down.

He continues to stare at you with widening eyes. His face blank now, as though all the blood drained from it. “Let’s just keep going,” you suggest. The moral compass in your head is wavering. You walk forward, noting his lack of movement.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” Kas calls out blankly. You turn around to face him, expecting sarcasm but seeing absolutely nothing in those dark brown eyes. “I do,” you whisper.

“Will you tell me?” he asks with his head down as he takes a step towards you. A part of you hesitates, wondering if this is just another trick of his. But you wanted to reminisce on memories. Here is your chance. “Sure,” you say in a lackluster tone. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“It was just another regular day. Eddie came over after DND, like usual,” you shake your head as you attempt to remember. “My dad was a dick that day so Eds had to meet me at the back door.” Your eyes close as you continue, “I snuck him in and we went to my room and we were just talking about our days on my bed eating pizza.” You smile. “When we were laying down, I guess my shirt rolled up and he saw the bruises from earlier that day."

You laugh aloud, quickly pinning your mouth closed and hiding a smile. “He is the most stubborn person I know,” you share, forgetting who you were sharing with. “He wouldn’t let it go. He needed to know where the bruises were from and to see more.”

You stop immediately when you feel hot at your tear ducts. You quickly decide to keep a memory of love between you and Eddie. Another smile emerging as you acknowledge the realization that that was the moment you knew, without a doubt, Eddie Munson loved you. That he was the only person who loved you enough to care about your safety.

“I fucking caved, as usual,” you giggle. “And when I showed him, he got pissed. I’ve never seen him more mad. I saw this fire in his eyes, I saw…” your brain stops working. Your brows crunch together as your eyes fall to the floor, processing the new information.

After some time, you look up to Kas, who has been watching you continually. “I saw you in-in his eyes,” you say in awe. Kas’ flattened lips slowly flicker into a smirk.

You knew Kas? You saw him in Eddie, and you did not run. He existed before Eddie died. You know it to be true. He was there, and he was loved … by you.

Quickly, you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought. You would not dare disrespect Eddie by comparing him in any way to Kas. “Uh, he wanted to beat up my dad for hurting me. I had to talk him down,” you say plainly. “He was feeling all those emotions so he-he just squeezed my arm,” you reenact the movement. “But when I told him to stop, it was like he realized he was hurting me and acted like he had control of it, like he should’ve known better.”

Your eyes fall on Kas’ once again. “He did not hurt me on purpose. He would never hurt me on purpose. And that is what you should remember,” you say clearly.

But Kas will not remember that distinction. He has better things to think about. “Just as long as you remember that you saw me that night,” he says with a chuckle. “God, you’re so damn good at making everything about you,” you throw out with a hand to your hip. “Oh yeah? 'Cause I thought it was all about you later that night?” he asks with bouncing brows. Your eyes darkened. “You remember,” you reply flatly.

“Yes, baby, I remember that night,” Kas smirks as he takes another step, like a lion stalking it's prey. “I remember when he laid you on the bed. How he traced his fingers up your leg,” he says softly as he attempts to do the same. You pull back in disgust, unsure of where this is coming from. He looks at you daringly.

“You liked it when he did it,” he huffs. “Well, what about when he kissed your neck.” He steps forward once more, hooking his arm around your waist and pressing your torso against his chest. Frankly, you were completely done with his manhandling. His lips fall upon your skin like unwanted tickles. Your elbow rests against his chest as you press your weight upon it. But this time, he did not pull away. He continues on.

“Oh, not that?” Kas asks amusingly, clearly not understanding the situation. His hands slowly trickle down your sides and to the front of your waist. “What about when he unbuttoned your pants-” “No, Kas!” you yell, pushing with all your force. He stumbles backwards with arms held out wide. His face both concerned and surprised. "No," you repeat sternly.

“I thought we were…” he trails off, slowly understanding exactly what he was doing. “No, Kas, we weren’t,” you say roughly. “Fuck, man! Why the hell would you even think that?” You push the hair from your face as you await his explanation. Kas’ held out hands slowly raise to a defensive position. “I-l I didn’t mean for any of that, we just, uh, we fight and then we,” he stutters. Wide, watering eyes. Stumbling his words as he continues to step back.

You could see him. Just like that night. Just like when he hurt you accidentally. His remorse. His horror of what he has done. You could see Eddie again.

“Thank you for backing off,” you whisper. You look up to Kas as he sucks his tongue against his gums, pushing tears back into his eyes. He hides his face form you’d “I’m sorry,” he says with a deep voice after a quick clearing of his throat. “Thank you,” you mutter. “Let’s just keep walking, okay?” you suggest, pushing ahead. Kas solemnly follows behind you - at a distance.

It was stupid to stop and talk. The sun is completely gone. That road Kas thought he saw? Yeah, that was a river. A river you both had to strategically hop stones to cross. A river you fell ass first in when you slipped on a mossy stone. His bustling laughter echoing in the emptied space, and yet you trek forward.

An odd gesture but Kas offers you his black boots. The first six times you refused, but once your feet started bleeding you decided why the hell not. They were two sizes too big and clunky things. You don’t even think Eddie would wear these, not outside of his room. But Kas? He does not have a single care in the world.

You figured that after Vecna, normal things like dark forests would not bother you in the slightest. You were wrong. You could hear him in any brush of leaves from the wind. You could feel him when you step on unexpected rocks, attempting to navigate through the tall grass. You could see him in the shadows by the tree trunks. You could smell him in the dry air.

A snap.

“What was that?” you whisper quickly. Your arms are held defensively in front of your chest as though you are ready for something to jump out. Kas looks back at you and immediately rolls his eyes. “I stepped on a branch,” he laughs. You cannot fully trust your eyes, but you swear you saw adoration in his smile as opposed to the usual condescending attitude.

You shake off the jitters, feeling prickles trace down your limbs and up your neck. “It’s cool, I’m, uh,” you say as something catches your eye on the ground. You let out a soft sigh of relief as your eyes return to his. “Yeah, I am a-okay,” you say more convincingly. You could almost convince yourself.

Kas bites his lip, studying you as you walk past him. “Are you afraid of the dark, little girl?” he whispers in your ear as ticklish fingers prance against the skin of your sides. “Kas, stop,” you stay sternly, swatting his hands away. “Seriously, though, what do you have to worry about with me here?” he scoffs amusingly. A smile growing on his face by the second as he catches up and walks beside you.

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe that flayed piece of jerky back there?” you say pointing behind you as you roll your eyes. “We’re outside of where he can reach, there’s no way he could get us,” he tries to soothe with a smile, but immediately recognizes the thin line growing between your brows.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kas whispers as he gently holds your wrist. He stops you in your tracks. You suck your tongue against your teeth as you avoid eye contact at all costs. “Hey,” he repeats in a deeper tone. His hands now cupped to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Vecna cannot get us here,” he says clearly. “No one will hurt you as long as I am around.”

You cannot help but search for Eddie in those eyes. Just to see him one more time, but you know that will never be enough. Kas will never be enough. But his words help and you are able to take a deep breath.

You nod, and he slowly drops his hands from your face. “Thank you,” you murmur. The word is now way too common in both of your vernaculars. Kas walks off with a smile, not turning back to look at you, not even once.

Staring at the glow of the moon, you would guess it had to be at least 4 or 5am. Not that you would even really know what to do with that information gathered from this view. All you know is that you are getting tired, and the night sky is changing from pure darkness to a deep gray.

“Ok, I know last time I was wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s an intersection,” Kas mumbles as he points forward. Your head snaps, following his gaze, with widening eyes. Your palm lands softly at your forehead as you quietly scoff in disbelief. Do your eyes deceive you? A honk of an 18-wheeler confirms your wish. You turn around with hands up in excitement. He chuckles at how big your eyes have gotten. A hand covering his growing smile.

“That’s a car, Kas, that’s a fucking car!” you scream. You rush through the trees, trying your best not to slide atop of the wet leaves. Alas, you ram your torso against the trunk of a tree in excitement as you watch the scene unfold before you. The pain is unnoticeable.

The street lights illuminate like auras against the misty fog. The wafting smell of cigarettes fleeing the convenience store. The blinding shine of headlights wrapping around the corner every few seconds. Honking, dings, spitting, ringing, a musty old muffler - finally, people.

Not once would you have ever expected the joy of finding people again, and yet here you are. You just needed a fresh look at how shitty the alternative is to know that reality is at least 1% shittier. Hope fills your chest as you take a step forward, only for Kas to pull you back.

“What?” you bark at him, pulling your arm away. “Take a good look at yourself, darlin’. You really want to walk up to that gas station like that?” Kas says with a point as he nonchalantly leans back on a tree behind him. You look down at yourself, remembering your lack of pants, Kas’ ratty shirt and his stocky boots. You take a deep breath as you softly say, “I guess you’re right.”

He stands up, almost immediately, which draws your attention. A smirk growing on his face. “What did you say?” he asks with a leading tone. You roll your eyes recognizing his intention. “Must not have been important if you didn’t hear it the first time,” you murmur with a grin.

Kas slowly walks towards you, making your grin beam more and more with each step. “Oh, I heard it,” he says softly as he leans in closer to you. “I just wanted to hear it again,” he whispers and pulls back. You push against his chest with a laugh, leaving him with a chuckle and a raised chin as he peers down at you.

“Okay, Kas, if we can’t go down there, where are we going to go?” you ask sarcastically. Kas smiles, moving his head to its side. “Oh, sweet girl. I know exactly where we’re going,” he murmurs. Your face deadpans as you watch him confidently strut down the hill and next to the street. “Wait, what do you mean?” you call after him. Rushing to follow him, you slip but Kas was able to hook his arm around you before you landed against the dirt and dust. He relinquishes his hand, faster than you expected and it leaves you confused.

“You see that street? Hudson Ave?” he asks, pointing up at the street sign. You watch him with a perplexed expression, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. “Yeah?” you answer confusingly. “I know Hudson Ave,” he shares, looking back down at you. “We’re by Lover’s Lake.”

You take a deep breath of disappointment as you wipe your palms against your face. “I thought we were closer to the school than that,” you sigh. That would mean at least another 5 to 10 miles before being able to collapse into a bed. “Sounds like we need a place to stay for the night,” he says with excitement, as though he already knew the answer. “Yeah?” you ask again with squinting eyes.

“I know a place. It’s safe, closed off, no one’s gonna be there,” Kas adds with a bit lip and slow nodding. Your face is emotionless as you watch his encouraging eyes. “How far is it?” you ask.

“Kas, you didn’t tell me we were breaking into the place!” you ask with a worried, hushed tone. Your back stands behind Kas’, covering him as he hunches over to pick the front door’s lock. Your eyes scanning for any sign of life as the sun begins to rise over the patch of forest.

Arms are crossed against your chest, attempting to gather as much warmth as possible. “Yeah, I don’t tell you a lot of things,” Kas whispers to himself. A tongue stuck between his lips with pressed brows as he focuses on the clicks within the lock. “Almost there,” he leads.

One click and his smirk grows to an unbearable size. He turns to you with the utmost confidence. You pull your eyes away in an attempt to avoid looking at his sweetness. “Okay, we get it. You’re a badass,” you mumble, quickly moving into a whine. “Common, it’s cold out here!”

Kas chuckles to himself, almost a hum that vibrates within his chest. You could feel it too, in your own, that leaves a spark of something familiar. You push it away, deep within your stomach, refusing to acknowledge it.

“Alright, alright,” Kas brushes off. “I’m hurrying.” With a twist and a push, you were in. The room was dusty. The air was stagnant. Your face showed everything, all your thoughts on the place. Completely disgusted by the state of the place. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

“It’s, uh, it’s cozy,” you whisper as you take a sharp breath. Half drunken beer bottles are left piled in the sink. A bra of unknown origin rests strung against the top of the couch. A rug, if you were so kind, rests tattered and torn throughout the room. A spindle of its fabric lays beneath your foot.

The only pristine thing in the place is a glass cabinet filled with different variations of bongs. As much as you would like to deny it, the sparkles catch your eye. A brown glassed stem filled with peace signs - you imagine it to be at least 10 years old. Another looked like the yellow smiley face that has spread across the world in the past few years - you enjoy that one. One shaped like a dark blue toilet bowl - you are not too keen on that. Lastly, a pipe with a bowl painted like R2-D2 - that might have been your favorite.

Before you knew it, you were standing right before the glass. Admiring the collection. Kas walks behind you. A cool whisper against your neck, “Can you guess where we are?” You shudder at his breath, but a piece of you welcomed his proximity.

“A dealer,” you say matter-of-factly, as you turn to face him. “Rick’s, right?” You knew he wanted to throw you off guard. He pulls back and slowly nods as respect fills the room. Of course, a respect that did not last very long.

“Then you must’ve known that this is where he stayed,” Kas mumbles carelessly. He carefully and judgingly picks up an opened bag of Fritos with his thumb and index finger off of the coffee table. Nuggets of weed organized perfectly upon the surface. Crushed green resting within a silver grinder.

Eddie most definitely was here. You try your best not to let it show on your face, but you wondered if this is where he radioed you. Did he sleep on that disgusting ratty couch? Was that the last place he ever slept? You make your way into the kitchen, careful not to show your haste. Opened tin cans of corn stacked in a pyramid stare back at you. His last meal? A pot is barely balanced on the stove’s burner.

Despite the rush of emotion in your chest, you smile at the thought of him cooking. Eddie was always a mess in the kitchen. You are honestly surprised that he did not leave the gas on. Memories of burnt pancakes and hardened spaghetti fill your taste buds.

He may not have been the best chef, but he made up for it. There is nothing like watching him and that messy bun. Flour on his face as that familiar tongue sticks out while he’s focusing. An apron somehow already covered with syrup, even though there was yet to be any pancakes. His shirt cut off at the sleeves with strings of fabric comfortably against his biceps.

Watching him in that moment, you saw your future. A future filled with laughter and messes. Dancing in the kitchen. Finally, feeling safe - safe in his arms. Maybe he would even make you feel safe enough to give him a little one when you were both older. The world deserved another Munson, another Eddie.

But just like the rest of your dreams, this one will never come true. Another future ripped from your grasp. A happiness you had only a taste of and will never see again. And somehow, you are supposed to be okay with that - to keep moving on. Especially now that there’s some super villain dickwad that wants you dead.

There’s no time to stop and grieve, like you thought. Part of you wishes you could, but another is thankful. Truthfully, you are afraid of what your life would look like if you truly let yourself feel everything. Feel your loss. It would not be much of a life, not after you get your revenge.

Take one step at a time, you remind yourself. Vecna’s death is and should always be the highest priority. How do you kill him? How do you ensure that you are the final blow? What are his weaknesses?

“Darlin’,” Kas whispers. He has been watching you silently as you stand in the kitchen. His intention was to catch you off guard with the information of Eddie’s stay. And he did just that but yet, no enjoyment in the act. What typically brings him happiness, his fucking with you, is not hitting the spot anymore.

He now worries about you. He worries about you constantly. He hasn’t stopped since that night in the diner. If he is honest with himself, these feelings would track all the way back to the night he first saw you.

Kas lays a careful hand against your shoulder. Your head quickly turns to look at him. A shock coursing through your body. “Let’s get washed up,” he suggests softly. You nod, but a slow smile grows upon your face. His expression turns inquisitive as a chuckle leaves his throat. “Dibs on the shower,” you scream as you rush up the stairs. He watches you run and instinctually follows just as quickly behind you.

You both playfully bump into each other as you struggle up the narrow staircase. As you manage to get a two step advantage, Kas grabs onto your ankle. You lightly fall against the wood as he scoots past you. “Fucker!” you giggle as you run to catch up to him. Bouncing off the walls, you push against his shoulder. You gain the advantage as you burst through a door.

Immediately, you are horrified by the sight. A tossed around bedroom with bright orange carpet. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the mirrored ceiling, which then led you to the cheetah print sheets. Your lips part as your jaw hangs open.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as Kas finally catches up. A laughter erupts beside you, but you cannot pull your gaze away. “Oh yeah,” he jokes in your ear. “Reefer Rick’s got bangin’ taste.” You push him away from you with a sneer.

Beyond the disturbing clash in colors, you see a sliding door that leads to a balcony. The wood is of a greenish tint. Ivy covers its banisters. An old copper-rusted chair rests in the middle of the panels. A heavily used bong, tinted brown with tar, rests at its very edge.

But despite all that, the view is incredible. There is no denying it. A gray and purple fog resides just above the black water. You could actually see the sun’s rays refracting within its dense mist. Sights like these have always made you feel better. There is nothing like Mother Nature to make that debby downer within you disappear.

“Shower’s over here,” Kas says as he leans against the threshold bathroom’s threshold with crossed arms. You smile, turning around, and walking into the room. “Didn’t think you would actually respect a dibs,” you share. Thankfully, Reefer Rick seems to have better standards for cleanliness in the shower. You are pleased with its state. “Oh, I can’t mess with the dibs gods,” he scoffs incredulously.

After noting which knob is for hot water, you realize that Kas is still standing beside you. You turn around to him beginning to unbuckle his belt. “What are you doing?” you ask with a nervous giggle. He pops his head up from his hands. His mouth in a thin line.

“Um, getting ready for our shower,” he answers. “Our shower, huh?” you giggle. “Oh, what? I thought you liked taking showers with your men?” he says as he leans in to you. His hands drop his buckle as his belt rests open at his waist. You struggle not to draw your eyes to it.

You quickly recover and smile. “You remember a lot more than you’re letting on, Kas,” you say under your breath. “First of all, there are no men. Only Eddie, and you’re not him, right?” you ask with a leading tone. “So, I’m going to take this shower alone.” You point towards the shower curtain behind you with a smirk.

Kas smiles with a shrug. “I guess I’ll wait my turn,” he says lightly. “Great call,” you whisper. Almost retaliatory, he unbuttons his black jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. Teeth digging into his bottom lip.

You try your best to keep your eyes on his, but you are clearly struggling and he knows it. He loves it. The smirk growing on his face by the second. A hint of blush to his cheeks. “I’ll just be out here, sweet girl,” he soothes. His own thumb pointing back into the bedroom as he slowly walks backwards.

An undeniable, unstoppable grin beams across your face as you close the door. Fuck. The thin wooden barrier gives you enough space to consider the wild things rushing through your mind. How you wish you could just pull those jeans down, get on your knees, and make him forget that Vecna never existed. How you wish you could have dragged him into the shower with you. How he could make you forget that your pain even existed with those hands of his.

You need to cool down. Quickly. Dragging your palms down your face, you walk towards the shower. You turn the knob for cold water, leaving a slight bit of heat to settle in. You slowly raise your arms, attempting to take your shirt off, but the pain hit you like a truck. You wince at the feeling. Immediately, you hear Kas knocking. “You alright?” he asks. You laugh, “Yeah, Kas, I’m good.”

It feels so damn good to take off that ratty shirt. To take off those panties. To take off his oversized combat boots. With a deep breath, you step into the shower. The rush of the freeze was shocking, yet comforting at the same time. The feel of the water splashing against your scalp and running down your temples, cheeks, and chin.

You reach for the soap and are immediately presented with a conundrum. You debate whether or not you should rub it against your skin. You wouldn’t imagine your body being any less dirty than Rick’s bar of soap, and yet, you hesitate. With a shake of your head, you rub the soap against your hands and then lather the suds upon your body.

Feeling the sensation against your skin, you cannot help letting in the trickling thoughts of Kas. The sensation of his hands on your body. His finger tips pressing against your aching muscles. Fixing all your pains. His palms exploring your waist, making their way up your torso and to your breasts. You think of Kas. You wanted Kas.

As you step back, your calf bumps into a bottle that clunks onto the bottom of the shower floor. The abrupt loud noise echoes through the air. A burst of adrenaline fills your chest as you startlingly fling yourself against the tiled wall. The scuffle of your movement is heard from outside the bathroom.

Deep breaths heave against your diaphragm as you slowly slide down to the base of the shower. Rushing cold water hits harshly against your skin. It causes your hair to glue thickly against your face. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You just can’t.

Kas knocks once again. “Darlin’,” he calls out but you don’t answer. You can’t. You were stuck. Stuck against the ground. You could not move. If you moved, you had no idea what would happen. You were safe, barely safe in that shower. Don’t leave that spot. You can’t. You won’t.

He slowly peeks open the door. “Y/n,” he calls out but you are silent. You hear him walk closer. You can see his shadow against the blue mildewed curtain out from your peripherals. He opens the shower curtain to see your arms wrapped around your knees. You were in a tight ball, as tight as you could manage, shuddering in the cold.

“Shit, baby,” Kas hushes. He quickly turns the knobs, adding more warmth to the water pouring against the crown of your head. Without thinking, he hops inside the shower and crouches behind you. His arms tightening around your shoulders. “You are safe,” he whispers. “You are safe.” The words falling naturally, almost scripted.

With the added pressure, you can feel your heart rate slowing. You naturally place your hand against his forearm as he tightens his squeeze. You have not felt this in some time. Your eyes close as slow breaths enter and exit your lungs. The silence is comforting. A reminder that nothing is actually happening. Reality is currently safe. You are safe in Kas’ arms. Your body can calm, can take in the cues of relaxation in this warm shower.

“I am safe,” you whisper as you lightly land your forehead against his forearm. “You are safe, darlin’,” he murmurs. His head laying against your shoulder. And there you both rest. You naked in his arms. Him drenched in his jeans behind you. A tightening embrace underneath a constant stream of warming water.

Dustin has never been the same since that night. He knows his friends are worried about him. That they freak every time he disappears for an hour or two. But they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand why he needed to visit him. How he would talk to him, even though he wasn’t there.

He couldn’t even manage to radio Susie back anymore. It didn’t feel right to be happy with Eddie gone. He avoided it, avoided happiness like the plague. He avoided his friends, his family, his mother. He grieves in solitude, unsure of when he will ever be done.

Every day since, Dustin made the trek to Lover’s Lake. To that spot in the woods where Steve, Nance, Robin, and Eddie went to Watergate. It is the closest he can get to Eddie. To remembering him. To wishing he was still there.

After a few trips back and forth, Dustin could make his way there without the compass - not that the compass was that helpful anyway. He would bring his backpack filled with old DND books, some of which were filled with “Munson’s Property” in thick sharpie. Sometimes he would run his fingers over them, hoping that Eddie was there too.

He would talk about the campaigns he wished he could play with Eddie. The one’s he knew the party would have a great time with. He would reminisce about when Eddie said he was “grooming him - grooming him to become Hellfire’s president. To be the Dungeon master. To be him.

That is all he could ever want. Well, that and Eddie being alive.

Another day and Dustin still sits upon his stump beside the lake’s shore. Seventeen rocks still scattered across the dirtied sand. He counts them here and there, ensuring they remain the same number. That everything remains untouched, like that day. But the fog was thicker today.

He could see the purple flecks within the gray mist. He appreciated when it was foggy. It meant he didnt have to think about the gang getting attacked in the middle of the lake. It meant he didn’t have to remember watching his friends and being helpless as they all dove into the dangerous waters. How he watched two of his heroes go in the abyss and never come out.

Sometimes Dustin wonders if he will see the canoe floating out on the water abandoned one day. Or maybe he’ll find it on the shore somewhere. Maybe there’s something on it? A piece of Eddie, something he left behind. He wanted to venture out but felt glued to this stump. Glued to looking out into the water and hoping Eddie might just come out from the fog.

Or maybe something will come out and take him. Take him far away from all this pain. Dustin was at his lowest, and yet he could only imagine going lower. Permanent reds to his eyes as tears continue to fall. It is his new norm. A new world without his big brother, without the person he looked up to the most.

Dustin heard a branch snap behind him. He turns, hoping it’s not Mike or Lucas trying to drag him back to the Wheeler’s, to his mom. He is surprised by the emptiness of the woods. How it reflects how he feels inside. He assumes the noise to be due to an animal. A sigh and he’s turned back around to the lake.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of something odd. His head turns to the structure to his left - Reefer Rick’s. “What a shithole,” he mumbles to himself. He places his elbows to his knees as his palms carry the weight of his chin. A light turns on, clear and bright within the fog. Enough to pull his attention back to the building.

Dustin stands with furrowed brows and a need to investigate. Cops were his first thought. Maybe they were still looking for Eddie, or maybe Rick broke out of the jail? Rick did have a tendency to do that. Although, they would always catch him seeing as he would just go home to smoke more dope.

He walks up closer, trying to get a better look, and catches a glimpse of something on the balcony. Another side step and he tries to look past the tops of the trees. There were no beams of flashlights bouncing around the windows. Maybe it wasn’t a raid. Maybe it was more of Jason’s lackeys? Still looking for Eddie, and yet - they’ll never find him. Or maybe they’re looking for Jason? They won’t find him either.

But who Dustin saw walking out the balcony made his blood instantly run cold. He was frozen, stuck in place, with a jaw dropped and shaking hands. The person is pale with black, wet, stringy hair resting at his shoulders. A familiar stance and posture that Dustin knew all too well.

Large, healed wounds wrapping from his lower back, across his side ribs, and a bit of his front. A familiar spider tattooed across his chest. The figure had a white towel wrapped around his waist. He is looking out - looking out into the lake. Just as Dustin was.

His heart starts pounding. In an unrecognizable world he now finds himself in, he finally sees the one he has missed so dearly. “Eddie,” falls from his lips like a whisper. As though it was a secret that was never meant to be spoken. A secret that only Dustin knows. The hope that he might be back, that maybe he never left.

Before his mind could register, Dustin’s feet were already running around the battered house, faster than he thought possible. His bag and compass left hastily by the shore. He stumbles trying to find his footing against the worn wooden steps as his fist crashes against the front door. All the excitement pumping through his body as he hears steps grow louder behind the door.

It opens. And Dustin feels everything.

note: hi, katrina here. i didn’t feel like it would work in the story (timeline wise), but i wanted to share that i most def wanted eddie to go up there and beat her dad’s ass. let me know what you think, please? ♥️

next part • posting 07/15 at 5pm pst •

taglist: (sorry for the retag, tryin' something) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer, @bit-of-a-timelord

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfic #Eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #strangerthings #kas vampire eddie #kas eddie munson #kas eddie x you #kas eddie x reader #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson slow burn

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rk-ocs · 6 months

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Red and her family

MT (her favorite cousin, a nicknamer)

I'm thinking she might be of native descent (though whether it's registered is another matter) So she and Red don't look all that similar, and in case I do a willow bark AU it makes sense for her to have inherited characteristics

Well, she's shorter than Red, (reds parents were tall people) like maybe 5'8. She has dark brown hair and light brown eyes. She gets pretty annoyed at people assuming that she's not related to red, because of her skin, which later is echoed with Red being able to act super offended at anyone who doesn't believe Desmond is her cousin or whatever excuse she's giving.

She's well muscled from her training, prefers to wear warmer coloured shirts, contrasting Reds cool coulors.

She has very nice teeth and has previously worn braces.

She doesn't need a prescription, but wears sunglasses often

Her counterpart meanwhile, is 5'9 didn't turn out to need braces because his mouth didn't have extra teeth, has lighter hair and skin then she does (taking more after mom in most verses), but startlingly dark eyes.

He's not as muscular as his not twin, but he's not in bad shape, and once impersonated her for a prank when he was younger.

He's growing a beard, and his hair long, in an effort to be less mistaken as her (is everyone colour blind mom? Probably)3

---

Red and her mom

Yah, Desmond would probably want to flee the blast radius, along with any other unfourtunate people there.

They can come to an agreement, but its super tense.

Its still better then Reds current relationship with her father (almost non exsistant, due to both sides not keeping in much contact for years).

But like

"Ah. Mother. How is Father these days?"

"Well enough. You would know If you came home occasionaly Carnelian"

"I dont go by that. And we both know its not me he would seek out, even if I were there"

"You know I'm not in the habit of useing nicknames, Carnelian. You are going to have to tell him your not dead sometime?"

" I dont see that it would make much of a diffrance to him. Never mind, that I didnt come here for small talk."

"Always looking for something, Carnelian. Well, spit it out"

Their manerisims durring this "chat" are remarkably similar. Though Red has her fathers colouring, you can see the similarities here.

Reds mother taught her (was teaching her) Greek, back in the day. Apparantly for buisness reasons, and that Red might as well learn a diffrent alphabet style while shes young.

She will, at one point in the story, cacth up with MT, and some others in her faimly. Its going to involve a lot of yelling (after all, you wernt actually dead, is a hell of a thing to learn, but at this point Reds used to it)

---

Jasper Twin AU

Jaspers not her twin, so much as an alternate her counterpart. Neverless, I wrote this long ago for their birthday. Which is on December 21st-22 (Desmomd Miles Death day). One of lifes paralles

Twin AU

(for their birthday)

Winter

---

"Get up Jazz"

Cold fingers dug under the blanket, and poked his stomach.

"Nooo" he moaned into his pillow, trying to hold the blankets in place.

The fingers were relentless. Not satisfied with poking him, they began to tickle him.

"You are a terrible person" He told her. "I hope you know that, petite soeur."

She poked him again for that one.

"Alright, alright, I'm up. Do you even sleep? Or are you powered by evil, and no longer need sleep."

"I'm powered by chocolate"

"I accept any and all offerings of chocolate. Except dark."

"Come on. We have to set up, if we want to win fight."

"It's a snowball fight."

"It is as serious as a blood feud. We must give no quarter, to the kids from the west!"

"It's too early for your dramatics!"

"I'll put snow in your bed."

She would. He knew from experience.

Sluggishly, he got up, and went to go see what was for breakfast

---

Family prefrences (sick food)

Red likes tomato soup, and when she's feeling more like solids, she likes grilled cheese with it.

Jasper likes Pea soup, and toast. So does his mom, but she makes dumplings with it. His dad, likes pho.

Monique likes Beef and Barley stew, and homemade buns.

Alyssa likes miso soup.

Rae likes squash, or chowder.

David likes porridge with honey, his wife asks for, hot and sour soup.

When they are sick, they have Lemon and honey tea. It's family tradition. Some thought Red and Jazes mom would protest, but her parents go to sick tea involved vinegar, and nope, not doing that.

The Ryan siblings and Alyssa, seem to share a preference.

#red jordan ryan #MT ryan #character writing #original character #writing #jasper jordan ryan #assassins creed

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sunnygrey99 · 3 years

Text

Lost Family Pt. 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~Trigger warnings: kidnapping, torture, violence, vague mentions of death and taking life. These themes will be present in almost all chapters. Any other triggers for individual chapters will be listed separately. If I have left anything else please let me know and I’ll be sure to add it. Enjoy~

Trigger Warning: Minor mentions of death/murder, Injury, and Detailed descriptions of panic attacks, PTSD

A week has passed of you ignoring Harry. You do everything to avoid him. Unsure of if it’s because of the way he talks to you or because you didn’t know how to explain what happened. To be entirely honest you didn’t know what had happened. It never happened to you before, but now every day seems to be filled with the same dread and fear that you had that day. You stopped making breakfast in the mornings and if Harry was in the room with the others you left. This isn’t how you want to be but it’s all you know how to do. No one but Caitlin knows you had broken 3 ribs. She promised not to tell the others as long as you took care of them how she directed, so you do exactly that. Unfortunately today you had to go talk to Harry though. You are the only one able to help with his current device and Cisco asks you to help him so nicely you can’t tell him no. Well you can and you do but then everyone else starts asking you too and you give in.

You plan on not saying anything to him at all. All you have to do is superheat specific elements on his device then you can leave. Stepping into the cool lab Harry has his back turned to you however, he seems off. More tense than usual and not wearing his typical long sleeve black shirt and slacks. Instead, it’s a black tank top and dark black jeans. You stared for a moment wondering what happened in the time you hadn’t been talking to Harry. Walking closer you come to his side and see him glance up to you. He said nothing before grabbing his device. A massive metal frame surrounding what looks like a green and orange core. Some element you doubt you’ve ever heard of. He sets it in front of you pointing to the core. “Don’t touch this bit. It will kill everyone in a 30-mile radius”.

Rolling your eyes you superheat your finger holding it in front of him as if to say ‘put it where you need it.’ He scuffs at you and sets other metal frames overtop connecting and encasing the core. This frame having other elements that seemingly need to be fused to the frame itself. He directs you and all is going well until your finger slips a little too far through cutting off a bit of the frame. “Damn it (Y/N)! I told you to be careful. This isn’t some 5th-grade science fair project. It’s a tool to save people’s lives.” His tone is aggressive and pointed solely at you.

That’s it. That’s where you snap. “You asshole! I’m not some idiot kid you can just yell at and call stupid when I don’t do exactly what you want or because you think I don’t understand science! And even if I was just some kid that didn’t understand any of it, it’s still not appropriate behavior! No wonder your daughter goes off to another earth while you sit here on this one creating your own toxic bubble! Anyone that even tries getting close to you or helps you you drag down while pretending you are better than everyone else.” You huff out and smack the table next to you sending it against the wall. Heat was surging through you as you had said all that and radiating off of you. Harry takes a step back as he physically sweats from the heat. He looks hurt and for a moment you feel good about it. You feel justified, but then what you said sinks back through to you, and regret sets in. Shaking your head you calm yourself and restrain the heat from your chest. “I-I’m sorry Harry I didn’t..”

His hand goes up to stop you, “Yes you did. And you are right. You’ve felt like this for a while haven’t you?”

You nodded slowly and crossed your arms to cover your chest and rub your arms. He sighed as he leaned against another desk. A few moments of silence before he speaks back up. “Is this at least part of why you have been avoiding me since what happened?” A nod from you confirms his beliefs. “Can we talk about what else there is?” The glance you give him is one of a small scared little girl that just wants to hide away from everything. “Okay maybe eventually. Look (Y/N) I’m… I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t do well with people and I should really work on that.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” You hushed in an apology to Harry.

“Well, I definitely forgive you. How about we finish this one and take the rest of the day off?” His tone is seemingly sincere and less tense than when you came into the room. Nodding you guys finish the device with little other incidents.

You still struggle to talk to Harry for a while and haven’t gone back to your routine. He seems to understand you need space and time to come back around. So he quietly makes breakfast for you instead and allows you to eat alone or just in comfortable silence. He seems to be the one doing little things to help you how you did for him and asks you for help with the simpler things that he knows he won’t lose his own temper with.

One day had been particularly rough with being stuck in your own mind. Mid conversation you would seemingly zone out and not be paying attention but really you were reliving the awful things you had done in your past. By the end of the day, you couldn’t hide how bad it was affecting you. Everyone had finally left the Lab and it was just you. Well, you and Harry but he wasn’t anywhere around, at least that’s what you thought. You allowed yourself to just break down at that point. Tears streaming down your face as you walked the halls aimlessly. You didn’t know what else to do. Rounding a corner Harry saw you walking as if you were a zombie. It’s the third time you have walked past the room with the same look on your face. This time though he noticed the tears. It wasn’t long before he was following you to see what was happening. On the fifth time, you stopped confused in a hallway before going back in a circle again. He started to call for you. Several tries to get you to respond you stop, wiping the tears off your face and booting your brain back up. Turning to him with a faint fake smile “Yeah? What’s up Doc?”

He keeps walking to get close to you again. “Is everything okay?”

You fain offense as you try to brush off the comment, “Yeah of course.”

“Are you sure?” He pushes to hopefully get you to confide in him.

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” You giggle hollowly.

“Right...You’ve walked past my office several times in the last hour.” Him calling you out seemed to have broken the dam. The tears come streaming out again but this time you are fully sobbing. No holding back tears or noise. One of the cries that has your legs weak enough to drop to the floor. You feel calloused hands on your arms once again but this time just silently pulling you into a firm chest. You both stay there like that for what felt like hours. He rubs your back and sways you slightly to soothe you. Soon your eyelids feel so heavy from crying and you’re so tired from the emotional labor that you slip off into sleep, feeling safer against his chest.

The next morning you wake up in your bed. You don’t remember getting to bed but you do remember how much you cried last night. Sitting up and looking around you see a glass of water and some aspirin on the table next to your bed. Drinking down the pills with the water you start to feel a bit better from the previous night. You know you should actually talk to him. Or even just someone about it all. It is about time someone knew, and who knows maybe saying it all will help you come to terms with it all more. It’ll have to wait a bit though. Yesterday was already enough dealing with emotions. Although you do get up early the next day to make Harry breakfast as a silent thank you for what all he did for you

Part 6

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

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Willie Headcanons

So I actually came up with this like a month ago and forgot to post it. Anyway enjoy my headcanons about our favorite sk8er boi. Be ready for feels.

Tw: death, car accident mention, emotional manipulation.

...

In my mind, Willie had a good relationship with his parents. They were supportive and everything. They both loved Willie very much.

And Willie has youngest child energy so I’m saying he has a sister who’s 2 years older and a brother who’s 5 years older. Their names are Delilah and Austin.

AND ALL THREE OF THEM ARE ADRENALINE JUNKIES.

Seriously imagine the worst possible combination of head empty only skateboarding and you’ve got Willie, Delilah, and Austin.

Austin started skating when he was 7 and got Delilah hooked on it a year later.

Their parents kinda didn’t like the idea of it but those two had already started teaching Willie basic stuff by the time he was 3.

But... the other two had other interests. Delilah was into art (painting) and Austin played piano (like, really well).

For Willie, skateboarding was his thing. And it always was.

He had fun with it when his big brother would put his hands on his and teach him to play a bit, or his sister would give him some paint and a spare canvas and they’d doodle together, but it wasn’t like skating.

As far as I’ve seen (which admittedly isn’t that far) it’s widely accepted that Willie has ADHD so I’m leaning into that here.

And Willie inherited his brain from his dad, who had a bad experience with meds and so wouldn’t let any of his kids go through it.

So Willie grew up unmedicated but probably better off for the time period. His dad taught him coping mechanisms. Him and Austin. Delilah didn’t inherit it but she was taught to empathize with her brothers and recognize when they needed her help with something.

She’s a badass who can and does beat up anybody who’s mean to her brothers for missing social cues.

But anyway while Austin had piano (and skating as a side thing) Willie got even more hooked on skateboarding than either of his siblings because his brain latched onto it from a young age and couldn’t let go.

We all have our outlets. The chaos in our brains has to go somewhere. For Willie it goes into skating.

When he’s young he and his siblings will skateboard to school and then after school they’ll skate all around Hollywood for hours.

They do their homework in random McDonalds and Denny’s and tbh become local cryptid customers. Like they’re just these 3 super friendly skater siblings who tip really well and visit every fast food place within a 20 mile radius of their house with varying frequency.

They also find e v e r y skatepark, empty pool, and vacant lot in that 20 mile radius that they can possibly find.

Their parents have to bail them out of jail for trespassing and the occasional vandalism every so often.

Sometimes one of them has stuff to do and it’s just two of them out skating but if two of them are busy the other one never goes out alone cause it’s dangerous. We’ll get back to that later.

So anyway when they’re 17, 14, and 12, Delilah comes out as a lesbian.

And the family is supportive of course because they’re a good family.

But her coming out gets Willie thinking. About how some of his friends have crushes on girls but he just... doesn’t see the appeal.

Like he has a couple friends who are girls and they’re great and he likes hanging out with them at recess but he doesn’t get the hype. They’re just more friends. So he doesn’t really see what his big sister is so interested in either.

In my mind Willie actually is from around the same time as the boys (dying in like 1999) so one day while nobody else in their house is home he and Delilah are watching Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and Willie’s again wondering why people think Leia is so hot cause she’s cool and all but Luke is right there and he looks really good and—

Willie: I think I might be gay.

Delilah: Yeah I know.

They talk about it and Willie does decide to tell the rest of the family but he’s a bit wary about anyone else because he saw how some of Delilah’s friends turned on her after she came out. He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

He does end up telling a few of his friends but he doesn’t quite not care what people think of him the way his big sister does.

Austin is the only straight one and he’s like. So awkward about it but in a sweet way.

Austin: So, Britney Spears is hot, right?

Delilah: Stop.

And

Austin: So I saw you hanging around Chris the other day are you two..?

Willie: ...no...???

Austin: Cool, yeah I didn’t think so. Just had to make sure. Not that I’m doubting your ability to get boys but I’d have to shovel talk him if you were.

Willie: If I ever do get a boyfriend, please don’t.

He tries. He’s a himbo if that wasn’t clear. Where did you think Willie learned it?

So anyway fast forward a couple years and they’re 22, 19, and 17. Austin and Delilah are both in college and Willie’s the last one left at home and things between their parents start getting... tense.

Like they don’t fight exactly but they’ve fallen out of love and things are awkward.

Even Austin and Delilah can tell and they’re only home on breaks and some weekends but for Willie it’s right there and he’s watching it happen. He has no option but to see.

They used to have a rule that they don’t go skating alone because it’s dangerous but Willie just can’t make himself stay home so he goes out skateboarding.

At first it’s never too far from home or anywhere where there’s too much traffic but as things get increasingly awkward at home he goes out farther and farther, chasing the adrenaline high he used to get from going anywhere and everywhere every day after school with his siblings.

Then his parents officially tell him they’re getting divorced and

And it’s not like he couldn’t see it coming, but... it still hurts.

And neither of his siblings are coming home any time soon so

So he goes out skating on his own, way too far from home. He keeps going until he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

He isn’t really paying attention the way he should but that’s not why he runs into trouble.

The driver of that red pickup is drunk and he rounds the corner out of nowhere.

If Delilah or Austin had been there they could have yelled for Willie to jump out of the way, or maybe up on the hood so the impact wouldn’t be as bad, but he’s alone.

So he gets hit, and the car was going fast enough that he’s dead before he even hits the pavement.

After that there’s a lot of confusion but once Willie figures out he’s a ghost... it’s too painful to think about going home, so he just... doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to see his family mourning him, so he just distracts himself, skating everywhere he couldn’t before without getting busted.

Plus some old routes where he used to go with Delilah and Austin, just for something that’s familiar but not too familiar.

He’s on one of those more familiar routes a few weeks after his death when he’s skating down Sunset Boulevard one night, singing along to Toxic by Britney Spears blasting from a nearby club and a man dressed in a purple suit comments on how he’s got a good voice.

Honestly Willie is just so relieved to have someone to talk to that he forgets about stranger danger completely.

Plus he recognizes an Elder Gay in Caleb and assumes he can trust him because the Elder Gays he met at pride that one time he went with Delilah were so nice and understanding of how reassuring it was to see queer people of older generations who got a happy ending.

Caleb barely even has to try. He just lets this 17-year-old obviously-queer ghost rant at him for a few minutes, asks a few questions and finds out that he also can play piano, and convinces him to come to the Hollywood Ghost Club the next night.

From there it’s not like Willie has anyone to save him so of course he has to join the club.

At first he’s completely alone because the other performers scare him almost as much as Caleb does.

Then slowly, he sees how they give him space because they know he’s scared of them. How they turn a blind eye when he leaves the club without permission. How they don’t critique his mistakes with the same sarcasm they show each other.

Willie starts to realize that the other performers are doing their best to look out for him, and he starts being less afraid.

They’re all too concerned with their own survival to really protect him but if they draw some attention to themselves occasionally so Caleb doesn’t notice Willie being slow to pick up some tricky choreography, that’s not too risky.

The others are all like 21 at the youngest and they really don’t appreciate Caleb tricking a literal child into working for him no matter how talented said child is. (Cause Willie is good at singing and piano. It’s just not his passion.)

The twins are 22 but they died in 1925 and before that they were performing to support a younger brother who they never got to say goodbye to so maybe they see Willie as a kind of second chance.

Lyssa (what I decided to name drummer woman because I don’t know her real name if she has one) is 25 and she died in 1984. She had a daughter who’d be about Willie’s age now and... who knows? Maybe they were friends.

Fuego is 24 and from 1951 and he had a childhood best friend who enlisted and died in WWII that he thought he might get to see when he died but that boy moved on and so... well, Willie’s just a little younger than his friend was the last time he saw him.

In short Willie becomes everyone’s baby brother and they do what they can to look out for him even if they’re just as scared of Caleb as he is.

And the better adjusted Willie gets to (after)life at the HGC and the better they get to know him, the guiltier the others start to feel about him being stuck there.

Eventually a combination of guilt and worked-up courage leads Fuego tells him about the whole unfinished business thing, in hopes maybe he can figure his out and get away from Caleb.

It doesn’t take Willie long to think of his family, how hopeless he felt about the divorce, how worried he was it would change everything and then how scared he was to see his family in pain because of his death.

He realizes his unfinished business is probably seeing them. Letting himself say goodbye.

He almost gets away with it.

Caleb catches up and stops him in the driveway of his house and poofs them back to the HGC.

He convinces (gaslights) Willie into believing that saying goodbye was never his unfinished business and even if it was it’s not like it would matter because Caleb wouldn’t let him do it.

The next morning he ships the HGC out to Tokyo. They stay on the move for a long time and when they are in town, Willie is basically locked in his room.

The next time he’s allowed out in Hollywood, his parents don’t live in their old house anymore and he has no way to find them.

As a coping mechanism, he just starts making the best of a bad situation. Becoming better friends with the other ghosts. Helping soften the blow whenever someone new comes along.

None of that means he stops checking the faces of passing skaters or keeping eyes on restaurants his folks used to like, but it does mean he more or less gives up hope.

That’s what he’s doing when he bumps into Alex.

Look, Willie loves his friends at the HGC. He really does. But there’s a big difference between 17 and 20-something. Like the others will drink alcohol some nights and technically Willie was born over 21 years ago but he still feels weird enough about it that he doesn’t drink.

He hasn’t talked to anyone his age in a long time so Alex is a breath of fresh air.

Also he’s like. Really cute. And sweet. And funny. And shit, Willie’s fallen for him before he even has time to think about it.

He keeps thinking about how Alex doesn’t seem like he’d be physically capable of hurting someone on purpose so Austin would approve and every once in a while there’s that sarcasm that pops out which means he’d get along great with Delilah.

In general Alex is the kind of guy he would’ve loved to take home to meet the family. Them not included, he’s kind of... everything Willie’s missed about Hollywood in the form of one person.

Then they hang out more and Alex is still everything he’s missed but he’s also so much more than that and...

It almost feels like a part of Alex is still alive. And for the first time in years, a part of Willie feels alive, too.

They’ve known each other for like a week tops and Willie is already in love.

Not that he’s admitting that to anyone, because he’s learned the hard way that anyone you care about can be used against you.

Still... when Alex asks for help getting revenge on Bobby, he can’t bring himself to say no because he needs to keep Alex in his (after)life and the only way he knows how to do that (or to make people be nice to him in general) is to be as useful as possible.

That turns out to be a big mistake, because Caleb sees right through him in an instant, targets Alex to confirm it, then immediately starts the process to trick the boys into committing to eternity at the HGC.

Willie feels like an idiot for thinking he could actually get away with it. Doing something good for someone he cares about.

He hadn’t thought Caleb would be interested in them because he’d never actually heard them play. The assumption was that he’d make them do some small favor and then let them talk to their bandmate for 5 minutes. A clean deal where they never have to commit to anything. Willie forgot to take magic into account.

He almost manages to convince himself it was all a bad dream, but when he seeks out Alex and his friends to check on them, he can almost feel the jolts himself, and seeing Alexthem in pain feels terrible.

Willie knows that theoretically they could figure out their unfinished business and cross over, but that all depends on finding it and doing it fast enough and if they failed...

People you care about can be used against you. And Willie does not want to be used against Alex again. He doesn’t want to see Alex used against him.

So he keeps his distance, in hopes Caleb will think he lost interest. He’s pretty sure once the boys find out about the stamp they’ll hate him, anyway.

And plus, as he’s been taught by his friends at the HGC, you have to look out for yourself because no one else will do it for you. Maybe you hurt somebody by not standing up for them, but you can apologize later and hope they forgive you. You can’t apologize if you’re gone, and it’s not like it would make a difference anyway because Caleb is too powerful for anyone to beat.

The thought of how spending eternity with Alex might not be so bad even if it has to be at the HGC does come up, but ironically that’s what makes Willie decide to screw his courage to the sticking point and tell them.

Because he has seen what decades at the club has done to his friends.

They’re all great performers, and they perform happiness well even to each other, but Willie knows them enough to know how tired they all are. How they have been doing the same thing over and over again for decades and they are sick of it.

They’re young, talented tragedies lost to drug overdoses, or AIDS, or accidents, or suicide, and they should’ve gotten to rest after everything they went through in their lives. Instead, they got a curse disguised as a blessing. They got to stay on a stage, got to keep performing and soaking up applause, never got to stop.

Willie has been there a shorter time than most of them and he feels it. The exhaustion, because ghosts are supposed to haunt for a few years then figure out their unfinished business and move on. They’re not meant to be trapped for decades, used as party tricks.

A part of Alex still feels alive and being trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club for years on end would kill that part of him.

Willie can’t let that happen, so as hard as it is...

He tells the boys what’s wrong with them. And by that hurt, betrayed look in Alex’s eyes, he’s honestly expecting him to never forgive him.

But then Alex does. And that almost hurts worse because whether he figures out his unfinished business or not, Willie doubts he’s ever going to see him again.

He honest to God almost cries when Alex hugs him because... shit, he hasn’t gotten a hug since he was breathing.

He goes back to the HGC and tries to go about his day, and keeps replaying how good it felt to have Alex’s arms around him, hoping that memory will get him through the next few decades on his own.

The ghosts at the club do actually gossip a fair amount and by this point all of them know about the 3 dead members of Sunset Curve.

So when Willie admits to Helen (what I’m calling one of the twins) that Alex hugging him was the first time he’d gotten a hug since he died, she hugs him tight for a good 20 seconds, telling him she’s sorry he has to lose him, and if Willie closes his eyes he can almost pretend it’s Delilah.

The next thing he knows, he’s locked in a closet.

Caleb comes to talk to (intimidate) him a few hours later, saying he knows what Willie did.

He’s magically locked in his room alone for a couple weeks after that and it’s essentially psychological torture.

Helen, Anna (what I decided to call the other twin), Dante, Fuego, Lyssa, and everyone else tell him not to test Caleb for the next couple years, but Willie has a heart full of love and a head full of fuck it, so he doesn’t listen.

He gives it exactly one day of being/acting scared and obedient, then goes out without permission again, fully intending to scream in a museum alone to let out all his feelings.

Remember: Willie didn’t see the Orpheum performance. He doesn’t know the boys didn’t cross over but by Caleb’s mood he has a feeling the outcome of that scenario was not in the magician’s favor.

He gets there and it’s literally this comic by the very talented @williessweatycherrysocks

He can’t stay long but he and Alex scream in each other’s faces, talk a bit, maybe sing a duet.

After that, they sneak to see each other when they can but don’t get to see much of each other for months.

It’s hard on both of them but they don’t give up on their relationship.

Through long and complicated events which I will outline later, Willie eventually gets free of the HGC, hugs his friends goodbye already making plans to take down Caleb for good to free them, too, and promptly declines an offer to stay in the Molinas’ garage.

As much as he wants to be close to Alex he’s done being confined to one place.

He still comes and visits like every day tho.

He knows a lot more about ghosting than the other boys do so he and Carlos get along amazingly like:

Carlos: So do you know who Jack the Ripper was?

Willie: No? How old do you think I am?

Carlos: I dunno but I thought it might be Caleb cause that would explain how he never got caught.

Willie, taking notes in his Things To Potentially Use To Take Caleb Down notebook: You’re a tiny genius.

No one was expecting it but everyone is in awe of how well he and Carrie get along. Between the two of them they know so much celebrity gossip. (and it’s definitely a good thing he’s on good terms with her cause she and Alex are close)

On the angsty side, Willie also bonds with Nick over how they both know how it feels to be manipulated and used by Caleb.

Also it takes a long time before he’s able to trust him, but he does get adopted into the Molina clan by Ray.

Ray reminds him a lot of his own dad, once Willie’s able to see that he’s nothing like Caleb.

Ray’s honestly just 100% happy to Dad™️ anyone who needs a dad so it works out great once Julie and the boys figure out how to make Willie visible.

But anyway back to important stuff.

Now that they don’t have to hide for any reason, Willie and Alex can both breathe a little easier. Or... they both feel better. Ghosts don’t really breathe.

Willie can finally let himself get used to feeling alive again.

The whole ghost gang goes (invisibly) to the Los Feliz Homecoming dance and maybe it should make him feel a little on-edge with the kind of club-like environment but...

He’s got Alex there, and they’re dancing to some corny pop love song from the 90s that Flynn probably put on because she knew the ghost boys would be there so how could he feel anything but safe?

For a minute it almost feels like actually being alive and there’s yellow and pink and blue lights coming from everywhere reflecting in Alex’s eyes and Willie is suddenly very aware of the fact that though they’ve been together for a long time now, they haven’t had their first kiss.

Then the Cha Cha Slide starts up and the atmosphere switches and Willie totally forgets about the whole romantic tension thing because it’s the Cha Cha Slide everybody has to dance along.

Dirty Candi performs towards the end of the night and the ghost boys cheer the loudest despite how Julie’s laughing at them. They don’t care that Carrie can’t even hear them, they’re being supportive!!!

Everybody screams even louder when Flynn runs up on stage and kisses Carrie and Willie feels a big burst of affection at how Alex shouts ABOUT TIME!

Then he gives Willie a quick hug and leaves cause he and the rest of Julie and the Phantoms have to go get set up for their performance.

Since Alex was able to flip Carrie’s hair in All Eyes on Me I’m saying that ghosts can touch lifers if they focus and believe it will happen hard enough, so the ghost gang has developed a system for alerting their non-Julie lifer friends to their presence.

So while they’re waiting in the crowd Willie taps Carrie on the shoulder like: • - - one short tap, two long taps, a Morse code ‘W’ and Carrie lets Flynn know that he’s there.

(Nick can see him too but Nick’s off somewhere with his date {one of his lacrosse teammates you know the one})

Anyway so Julie goes out and starts up the song and then the rest of the band poofs in but

Something’s unusual.

Cause it’s not Luke on the lower main vocals.

It’s

Alex

Singing while he plays the drums and fucking killing it.

Willie totally bluescreens for a second but then when he actually focuses on the lyrics...

It’s a new song about beating the odds and being with the person you love in spite of the challenges that come with them.

And yeah there are Julie elements in there, (and she’s definitely making heart eyes at Luke even as he sticks to backup vocals) because of course there are since she has to start the song up, but

But Willie might not have any formal music training, but he was at the HGC long enough to know his stuff about music and recognize different artists’ styles.

And there’s a time signature switch on the bridge that’s a little off from how Luke would write it. There’s a swing to the melody that’s a bit more ‘pop’ than the band’s usual songs. Julie’s harmony doesn’t go as high as it normally would, as if whoever wrote the song didn’t have as high of an upper range to work with as she does.

The song is so unmistakably Alex that no one else could have written it.

Flynn and Carrie are quietly making smug comments on what they bet his face looks like right now but Willie’s not listening to them.

On the last chorus, Alex fucking winks at him right before poofing out.

Willie has whiplash like how did they go from him having to psych Alex up to break into a museum even when there’s zero chance of getting caught to Alex openly flirting with him from the stage?

He poofs backstage right as the boys get back from dropping their instruments back in the Molinas’ garage and he honestly doesn’t know what he even wants to say to convey how amazing that performance was.

Then Alex just smiles at him.

Alex: So I take it you liked the song?

Willie: Can I kiss you right now?

They both kinda freeze after he blurts that out and Reggie goes wow really quietly before he and Luke poof out to give them some privacy and whoops now they’re both flustered but

Alex: Wow, didn’t expect that. That’s... um, wow. But yeah.

They kiss and it’s a total romcom moment.

And the story’s far from over, but to Willie this definitely feels like happily ever after.

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glitchbirds · 2 years

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ive been slowly revisiting ace attorney lately and god. justice for all really is just all over the place, tone-wise and quality-wise case 1: you have cartoon amnesia from getting smacked upside the head with a fire extinguisher. welcome to the tutorial, time to bullshit your way through a court of law when you dont remember your own name. case 2: maya is once again suspected of homicide and you now have psychic powers. congratulations. we’re setting up a bunch of shit that will become incredible important in the next game but for now have a mostly decent case, if a bit unmemorable. case 3: every single grown adult man in a 5 mile radius wants to marry this 16 year old girl and that’s unfortunately not even the only reason everyone hates this case with a passion. have fun with bad writing and characters you never want to see again after this who you’re stuck with for hours on end. case 4: legitimately one of the greatest cases in the entire series, if not THE greatest case. ridiculously tense, with the stakes sky-high. forces you to reevaluate everything from a new lens and take a good, hard look at your morals- is the life of one innocent worth more than another? can you live with yourself if you allow a murderer to walk free, turning your back on everything youve ever believed in, just to protect one person? are you any different from the prosecutors boasting about their perfect records if you willingly turn the other way and allow a man you know is guilty to go free, unchallenged? meanwhile phoenix is desperately trying to keep himself together so the eight year old child depending on him doesnt fall to pieces over her cousin getting kidnapped and held for ransom, and edgeworth is back from the dead. i played these games for the first time when i was like 13/14 and i remember that when i got to the last case in this one, the wifi cut out at our house and i had nothing to do but play this game so i just fought my way through this entire case in one day, in one sitting, just going absolutely fucking insane the entire time

#txt #media

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keylakinktober · 3 years

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Imagine|||Obey Me

MC comes home to the devildom from the war

Gender Neutral Character

Trigger warnings: Mentions of war, death, injuries swearing.

This is in no way trying to romanticize war and/or war injuries. There might be a part 3 where MC is getting used to being around the demons again and the same applies to that part.

(Imagine below the cut)

An honorable discharge.

That’s what Barbatos was told when Simeon revealed that he would be bringing you home. But seeing as he made him promise to not tell the brothers, Barbatos knew something was wrong. He relayed the message to Diavolo, who beamed at the fact that one of his favorite humans was returning.

When Solomon and Simeon came in later that week with you supported by your remaining wrath big D, Diavolo almost cried at the state you were in. You now sported a prosthetic right arm and leg and had noticeably shorter hair. Your clothes hung off your frame, and your eyes seemed empty of life.

The big D of wrath looked a little better, with only a few circular scars, and Diavolo feared to know what had happened to the other wrath and pride demons. Never less, he bowed low to the two of you in respect for what you had done, before approaching you to hug you. His heart broke when you flinched, and he quickly turned it into a handshake to save your pride.

The wrath demon excused himself to find the families of the two demons that had died and gave you a quick side hug before passing you to Solomon and letting the sorcerer support your shaky legs.

They took you back to purgatory hall that night after catching up for a while, and you slept beside Solomon, who stayed away for the most part to help you through a nightmare.

When Luke saw you the next morning, he cried. He had been so worried, as Simeon hadn’t wanted him to see you while you were out, so you held him close to you on the couch while he asked a few questions. You tried not to flinch away when Simeon showed up with tea and cookies, and no one questioned you when your hands shook.

Luke was especially scared of hurting the area where your prosthetics were attached, but you assured him it was only bad when you got too cold or it they were attached improperly. You didn’t tell him how you lost your limbs, but later on that day allowed Simeon to explain to him what had happened.

A grenade had been thrown, and you had jumped in front of one of a medic who was tending to one of your fellow soldiers. The big D of pride was the one who carried you away, and bought you back to the base to get your wounds treated while the remaining wrath demon finished off all the enemy soldiers in a mile radius due to his rage. The medic and soldier you had saved swore secrecy to what they had witnessed. Promising to tell no one of the two creatures that crawled out of the shadows in your defense.

When a week later you were finally able to walk with little help from the angels or Solomon, you decided to get your stuff from your room in the House of Lamentation to bring to Purgatory hall. Solomon and Simeon helped you walk over, as they knew when the boys saw you there’d be chaos.

Somehow, you didn’t pass anyone until you got to the stairs, so Solomon went ahead with Luke to start gathering your stuff to make it easier for you. Simeon stayed by your side as you struggled up the first few steps, the prosthetic leg slightly uncomfortable against your skin as you lifted it to step up.

“Y/n?” The voice was quiet, but both you and Simeon heard it without a problem.

It was Mammon.

The avatar of Greed stared at the two of you, eyes wide and breathing shaky as he took a step forwards, and you offered a small smile.

“Hey you.”

Simeon had to grab a hold of your shoulders to prevent you from falling backwards at the force Mammon hit you, and you felt damp droplets hit your short hair as tears fell from the demons face.

Other then Solomon, this was the first hug you had received from anyone since getting home, and somehow, although you were happy to finally see one of the brothers after so long, you were uncomfortable at the act. Upon realizing how tense you were, Simeon had to forcefully extract you from the demon’s grasp, which made Mammon growl lowly.

But when the white-haired male saw the discomfort on your face, he froze. And then he looked at the rest of you. His eyes lingered on your arm and leg, and he finally seemed to realize how short your hair was as he took a step back.

“What happened to ya over there Y/n?”

By the time you had relaxed and managed to mumble out a coherent sentence, pounding footsteps echoed from the direction of the kitchen, and a rush of ginger barreled towards you.

Simeon actually had to whip out his wings and shield you from Beelzebub’s hug, which was not taken well by the avatar of gluttony. Belphegor was close behind his twin, and the commotion must have reached the other brothers because you could hear faint footsteps from other areas in the house.

Satan seemed the least surprised by your arrival, and he helped to hold back his brothers until you could reach the top of the stairs with Simeon’s help. Later he would tell you that the big D of wrath that had survived came to tell him that you were back, and that he decided to wait until you were ready to see them. He understood war, and how it could change people.

Asmodeus was crying as he babbled out welcome home and thanked you for coming back to them, and Leviathan was trying to hide his own tears of joy that you were alright.

When Lucifer finally arrived last, his gaze landed first on your face, then he scanned for injuries. He was annoyed that Simeon’s wings were still covering most of you but accepted your silence and the nervousness in your eyes as a warning to hold back for now.

When Simeon pulled back his wings to help you up the rest of the stairs, the brothers -other than Mammon- fell silent. Their eyes lingered on your new limbs, and they seemed almost afraid to say anything about them.

By the time you had returned with the two angels and Solomon in tow, they had composed themselves. Satan or Lucifer must have warned them to hold their tongues about anything that had happened while you were gone.

“How long have you been back?” Beelzebub was the first to speak, asking the question that everyone wanted to know, and you avoided their eyes as you reached the flat floor.

“A week and a half.” Your voice would not have been heard by them if they didn’t have such good hearing. You could clearly see the anger, the hurt as they realized you had been back this long and didn’t contact them at all. “I needed time.”

“They don’t have to explain themselves. We’re heading back to Purgatory hall until they’re comfortable with being around so many people again.” Solomon wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he stepped closer to you and took their eyes off of you. With his statement, you could see the crestfallen eyes of the demon brothers you had grown to love, and you shuffled on your feet in discomfort.

The angels and human walked you past the brothers, who parted silently to let you pass.

“May I bring you a few books that I had saved for your return?” Satan’s words almost made a tear slip out.

He had still been collecting books he thought you might like while you were gone.

“That would be appreciated.”

And then you were out the door.

#obey me #belpheghor #beelzebub #asmodeus #satan #leviathan #mammon #lucifer #obey me imagines #sad #angst #i might make this a series

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kunderdogs · 4 years

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Ateez / GF Defending Them Part 3/3

Sorry y’all. I know I was supposed to have this up yesterday but I got drunk at my friend’s party and we went Christmas shopping at 2am at Walmart. Anyway here’s part 3!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung was born loud and exuberant. It was a fact of life that his close friends and members have grown to love. Many people who didn't know him mistook him for obnoxious or rude, especially when he exclaimed loudly one night at a local BBQ joint. It wasn't overly crowded; a lovey-dovey couple who were much too close off in the corner ignoring everyone else, a couple of school girls who were nose-deep in thick texts book and piles of coffee cups, and three older men who were throwing back soju bottles like they were about to be discontinued.

You had just walked in behind your bestie, hungry and ready to show her your favorite item after showing her around Seoul for the day. Eight boys in the back caught her attention and she quickly pointed out the one who she found the most attractive as you two found a seat. Just as you looked over, one of them yelled before they all broke out into manic laughter.

They drew everyone's attention for a second before they went back to their own conversations, thoroughly unphased. Except for one of the older men. They had to be in their thirties, probably on some kind of lunch break from their office job, if their business suits were anything to go by. Either way, one of them scoffed, eyes rolling so hard, you could hear it from three tables away.

You and your friend exchanged looks before greeting the server as she took your order. She left with the promise of food in ten minutes as your bestie leaned over to you.

"The loud one with bleach blond hair has been giving you the look ever since we got in here," she whispered with a smirk. "Go talk to him."

You gave her a disbelieving look, "He's way out of my league. I'd just embarrass myself."

Chancing a look at the eight boys in the corner, your eyes made contact with the one she was speaking of before his eyes widened and he quickly ducked his head. You smiled a bit as the two flanking him noticed his blush and nudged him with their elbows, jeering loudly.

This time the office worker slapped his beer on the table, his two coworkers looking nervously between themselves. He turned before they could talk him out of it and locked eyes with a few of the boys, "Yah. Pipe it down over there. Some of us are trying to enjoy a meal in peace."

A few of them looked miffed, yet the loud hottie stood and bowed while loudly proclaiming, "We apologize. Please ignore us."

You thought that would be the end of it but it seemed the man didn't take it well and the next thing anyone knew, he was on his feet. The two near him couldn't reel him in fast enough and suddenly, he was standing in the blond's face.

"Are you mocking me, kid? You should show some respect to your elders."

The boys around him stood protectively, but didn't actively come to defend their friend. It was then you noticed the brightly dyed hair some of them have, along with almost all black attire, baseball caps and face masks that something clicked. They glanced around in a panic as their whispered voices finally tried to defuse the situation. Ah, they are idols. No wonder they looked hauntingly familiar.

"No," the guy growled angrily as one of his coworkers tried to physically move him away. "This little bastard wants to be a comedian so let's hear what's so fucking funny."

Slamming your hands on the table loud enough to have many pairs of eyes on you, you stood and walked over, "They're kids. They get loud, and they apologized. Don't make a big deal out of nothing."

It was silent for a long pause, and the raging guy in front of you obviously didn't expect you to speak Korean but when he recovered, he was sticking his finger in the hottie's face and poked him in the head. "I'm not going to sit back and let some obnoxious brats disrespect me!"

With one hand on your side, you made your way to Wooyoung's side before the other hand pushed the older guy on his shoulder, causing him to take a step back. "Let's not get physical here. He apologized. Accept it or leave."

Turning his anger to you, he grabbed the hand you pushed him with tightly, "Just who do you think you a-"

You gripped his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back in defense while he screamed, pushing him towards his coworkers. "Don't put your hands on other people."

His coworkers worked quickly to drag him outside, and you watched to make sure they were a good distance away before turning to the hottie standing next to you. "You okay?"

He was already staring at you, a blush quickly taking over his face when you spoke. "A-Ah, y-yeah...Thank you, for that. I'm not very good at...confrontation. I'm Wooyoung, by the way."

"Y/N." You smiled. He was really cute up close, especially when he was figiditing. "It's alright. I don't mind saving princes in distress."

His friends burst into laughter while he felt his face heat up. "Aish...now I look so lame! I'm supposed to be saying that to you! Let me repay you by buying your meal then."

Your bestie popped up from behind you with a twinkle in her eye, "OR you can buy her dinner later on? Tell him what I said." Before you could translate, one of the shorter boys (Hongjoong) to the back did with a sly smirk.

The "Oooooh"s and "Aw yeah!"s in the back made you both giggle, but Wooyoung just smiled. "Yeah, I like that idea better."

Wooyoung is all about a strong woman, but he definitely feels some type of way when you defend him. He's torn between loving it and wanting to be the one to protect you. He's absolutely make it about himself, and complain when you're the one always defending him. He'll get over it in a second and then he'll brag to the other members that his s/o can kick anyone's ass so they better be good to him from now on.

Jongho:

Our precious maknae is the strongest of the members, we all know this. And he's so incredibly caring as well. So when he noticed some young teens, around his age, being rude to an elderly man that worked at the corner store, he couldn't sit back and let it happen.

The kids were making a big deal out of the man taking too long to scan their twenty items, to which he just nodded and apologized. You had just walked in, on your lunch break to grab something quick to eat and went to stand behind Jongho. It didn't take long for you to notice the tense muscles in his back or the annoying howling from the teenagers.

"Come on, old man," one of the males nearly shouted. "We've got places to be!"

The other hoodlums chuckled before resuming their conversation, some complaining about him taking too long to get their change.

Jongho could feel the tightness in his jaw start to ache when he opened his mouth to say something. "Shut up. Don't be such assholes."

The ring leader, or at least that's what it seemed like he was since the other teens looked to him as they all turned around, cocked his head to the side. He snatched the plastic bag from the old man, jerking the poor guy forward slightly. Jongho glared at the boy. Seeing this would get interesting, you paused the song on your phone and held your drink with one hand.

"Why don't you mind your own fucking business, punk?" The other teens agreed yet none were stepping up to say more than that.

"The only punk I see around is you. Your parents failed you, raising such disrespectful trash."

Just as you were snickering from behind the taller of the two, the teen pushed Jongho back, which made him stumble back into you. You lost your grip on your phone, dropping it to the hard ground. There was a collective moment of silence as everyone within a ten mile radius watched you pick up the device and flip it over.

A cracked screen. On your new phone. Your one week old phone.

Anger bubbling within you rapidly, you stood, not noticing Jongho's panicked look in his eyes. You stared right past him, glaring at the teen that pushed him. "Are you going to pay for this?"

"H-Huh?" He stuttered before pointing at Jongho, "He's the one who bumped you! Blame him, not me!"

"You pushed him!" The fire in your eyes was nearly an inferno while the teens cowered under the stare. "Do you have no manners?! Do you think you can just push people around? That's how fights start. Do you want to fight?!"

They all looked thoroughly terrified and shook their heads before running out of the store. Their change was still in the clerk's hand and an apple from their plastic bag fell out. You picked it up and called after them, "You forgot your apple, brat!" They didn't even turn around, even as you crushed the apple, effectively breaking it in pieces in your rage.

With hearts in his eyes, Jongho was jaw-dropped as he watched you sigh loudly before apologizing to the clerk and pulling out your wallet. "I'll pay for the apple. I really don't know my own strength some times."

From behind you, a twenty was placed over your hand and Jongho smiled at you. "It's on me. Hi, I'm Jongho. I, also, break apples in my spare time."

#ateez #ateez scenario #ateez reaction #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #part 3/3 #choi jongho #jung wooyoung

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

War of Hearts [Gang!Calum AU] Part 8

Part 8

“I’m surprised you’re willing to give it all up for Ruby.”

Calum let out a breath, a billow of smoke curling out of his lips and flying out the window as the truck kept going. He sat, left elbow resting on the windowsill of the door, arm hung out as he tapped the residual ashes off his cigarette as he drove down an empty road leading to the factory. His jaw clenched for a moment, staring ahead at the deserted road that had the factory at the end of it, just a few minutes away from arriving. Calum’s voice was gruff as he answered, “Believe it or not, she’d kill me if I gave everything up for her.”

He could feel Michael looking at him as he observed with a frown, “We brought all of our shit—that’s a pretty big gamble to bring it all and risk it getting taken.”

Calum glanced at Michael as he took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it outside, the cool wind blowing against his face. He settled with both hands on the wheel, leaning back against the seat before tilting his head to the left so he could thread his fingers through his hair. “We got a new shipment a few days ago. Brand new of everythin’. So even if we lose what’s in the truck, we got better equipment waitin’ for us.” Calum looked at Michael once more, noticing the way his eyebrows were raised at that information. Tightening his jaw, Calum looked back out to the road, giving a single shake of his head. “But we’re not losin’ anythin’. We’re leaving here with Ruby safe and all of our shit with us.”

They were silent for a moment, only the dull rumble of the engine and the whistle of the wind tickling their ears as Calum drove. He tried to relax his jaw, the bruise he was sporting allowing for a throbbing pain every time he tightened it. But he’d been tense since the moment he found out Ruby had been taken; sleep hadn’t come to him last night, of course. Everyone was on high alert, working overtime to find out where they were keeping Ruby. They had yet to find out that information, but he and Michael were wearing expertly hidden comms and as soon as their men found out Ruby’s location, they would know. And everything would go according to plan.

“If it came down to it,” Michael spoke up after a few moments of silence, voice holding just the smallest hints of curiosity as Calum could see him glance his way from his peripheral. “Would you give all of it up for Ruby?”

“Yes.”

The answer had slipped past Calum’s lips a lot quicker than either of them had expected, Calum’s grip on the leather steering wheel tightening as he heard his own voice. His throat worked after taking a deep breath, keeping his slightly widened gaze on the road ahead. Calum moved his around his jaw, lips remaining pressed together as the wind blowing suddenly felt as though it was slapping against his face, heart pounding at the implication of his answer.

He didn’t even have to think about it, already so sure of his answer without any regrets. It came to him as naturally as breathing did because what other answer could there possibly be? Never in a million years did Calum think he would be so willing to give up everything he worked for for someone else—and be okay with the prospect.

Calum was a businessman. An entrepreneur. He worked for everything he had, illegal or not, and he was damn proud and protective of it. Always making sure he was on the top, five steps ahead of his competitors on every occasion. It was that same determination that made him one of the most feared gang leaders on the west coast, notorious for his work ethic and getting shit done attitude that put him at the top. He didn’t get there by being a pushover and submitting to other people’s demands, weak in the knees and doing what he was told. People did what he said.

The fact that he was ready to let go of it if it meant Ruby’s safety was completely out of character. But Calum, strangely enough, found himself okay with that. For Ruby, he would do it.

It would’ve been a thunderous realization, Calum knew, that he would trade it all for Ruby’s life, if it weren’t for the fact that he had readily accepted it. It wasn’t some kind of blinding, eye-opening decision that he’d struggled over. Everything about it felt natural. There had always been something about Ruby—something that always drew his eyes to her, that made him feel protective—that stuck to Calum. Immature teasing was always carried with this underlying layer of care, where he enjoyed getting a rise out of her but would never let any harm come to her. It had only taken a few days of her living with him to realize the extent of his feelings.

When Michael had so easily spewed that Calum was in love with her, he wasn’t surprised at the revelation of his own feelings—rather more so at the notion of the first one to say it out loud was Michael, of all people. But Calum did. He loved Ruby, loved her as easily as he breathed, and he would do whatever it took to get her back.

They finally pulled into the factory both men tensed in their seats at the sight of Oscar standing with his arms behind his back, waiting. Calum desperately wished he’d brought a weapon—a knife, a gun, anything—to end the smug piece of shit right there. But Oscar had been clear, and Calum wasn’t going to risk Ruby’s life. Not when they didn’t know of her location yet.

Calum kicked the engine, throat working as he said to both Michael and the hidden comms they were hooked up with, “Let’s do this.”

He and Michael jumped out of the truck, doors slamming behind them and echoing in the abandoned factory as Oscar greeted in a faux friendly tone that made Calum was to ram his fist into his face. “Afternoon, Riders. Lovely day, isn’t it?” He didn’t get any other response except two extremely aggravated scowls, which only served to widen Oscar’s grin. “Search ‘em, boys.”

The others practically stepped out of the shadows, and Calum’s jaw remained tight as a man with shaggy brown hair and pursed lips stood in front of him and started patting Calum down. The communication device Calum had on was in the form of a watch on his wrist, begrudgingly holding his arms out to the side and spreading his legs as the guy made sure Calum had no weapons on him, while Calum’s dark eyed gaze remained on Oscar. His entire body was rigid, muscles tense as he fought to keep his head on straight. But this fucker had Ruby, and Calum was itching to pull out a gun he didn’t have and shoot a few rounds right into Oscar’s face.

But they had a plan. Stall Oscar until Calum’s men were able to track Ruby’s location, because a cocky fucker like him would still want her to be kept somewhere close to here. The entirety of the Riders were spread around here within a fifteen mile radius, no stone left unturned. They would find her, Calum knew. So he had to keep his shit together.

“Now then, before we start,” Oscar began after the men stepped away from Calum and Michael and nodded in approval. They watched as Oscar walked over to a table, standing behind it and opening up a laptop Calum hadn’t noticed until now before pressing a few keys and turning it so the screen would be facing them. Calum’s jaw tightened even more, a dull throb from the bruise he ignored, as Oscar mused, “Just a reminder if you try to pull some shit, she dies. Live and right in front of your eyes.”

Michael was tense next to an equally aggravated Calum, eyes zeroing in on the livestream on the laptop. Ruby sat on the floor of the dark room she was in, no longer on a chair as she had been before. Wrists and ankles tied together, she looked utterly drained and exhausted, head leaning back and eyes closed, and even through the screen Calum could tell she was sweating, head lolling as if it was too heavy for her to keep upright. She was drugged, he knew, and his heart rate spiked and blood boiled at the sight of her. His chest ached looking at the screen, teeth grinding together and wanting to look away but he couldn’t. This was his fault.

But it was a livestream. His men were listening in. And Calum knew, without a doubt, Avi was already working to backtrack the source from where he was stationed.

Still, Calum couldn’t look away from the laptop, feeling his stomach tighten uncomfortably as guilt burned his veins. Ruby was in this mess because of him and Calum hadn’t been able to protect her. He promised he would only to end up failing miserably, terribly. And he fucking hated himself for it.

“Why the long faces, fellas?” Oscar cooed, smirking from where he stood as he gazed at the two scowling Riders. “At least you can see her. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to my brother before Clifford here put a bullet in him. Or poor Uncle Hawkins before he died in your arms, Hood. Kind of ironic, but our lives are pretty fucking unpredictable, huh?”

Uncle Hawkins. Calum almost laughed at the revelation. This was a lot more personal than he thought, but Hawkins died yesterday. And if Oscar had been planning this for months, then his brother wasn’t any of the men Michael and Luke had taken care of before the wedding.

“Your brother was a Saber, I’m assuming?” Michael spoke up with a raise of his eyebrows, shrugging when Oscar gave a single nod. “Then he probably deserved whatever the fuck came to him. My sister on the other hand,” Michael’s fists clenched at his sides as his eyes narrowed dangerously, “has nothing to do with our business. You’re just looking to kill an innocent person because you’re blinded by revenge.”

Calum pursed his lips, wanting to slap Michael upside the head. Him just going off on Oscar and telling the man who held Ruby captive that his brother deserved death wasn’t going to be doing them any favors. But like Calum, Michael also tended to aggravate the situation if they were too pissed off, and the sight of Ruby tied up and drugged wasn’t helping at all. Calum didn’t entirely blame Michael for mouthing off, but he needed to keep himself in check. Oscar had Ruby, and they needed to stall until their men were able to find her instead of pushing him.

Oscar’s expression tightened at Michael’s words, as expected, as he spat out, “She’s got everything to do with it if she’s your sister and screwing Hood.” He let out a humorless laugh, tilting his head slightly. “Come on, don’t tell me you fuckers wouldn’t go after the people your enemies care about. This kind of life practically calls for it.”

“Maybe, but we actually have some kind of morals,” Calum returned, voice smooth and calm despite feeling anything but as he tore his gaze away from the laptop. The sight of Ruby sat heavily on his chart, and he could only pray that they would get her out of there soon. “We don’t kill innocent people. That girl right there?” He gave a single, strained nod to the laptop, throat tight. “She’s innocent. Your brother and uncle weren’t. We don’t go after those who haven’t wronged us.” Calum’s tone hardened, feeling himself increasingly growing aggravated over this whole situation, patience thinning as his eyes locked with Oscar’s. “You’ve got not idea who you’re fucking with, kid. This is only gonna end badly for you.”

“Yeah?” Oscar quirked an eyebrow, eyes flashing at the contempt Calum was so obviously and purposefully showing him. A cocky guy like him would have some yearning of being validated, and Calum doing the opposite of that was only going to serve to piss him off. It was a dangerous game to play; either Oscar got too worked up and ordered his men to kill Ruby, or he would try to show off all the balls he had in his court in belief of being able to outsmart the Riders. Calum hoped it was the latter. “What if I just killed her right now, huh? It’ll only end badly for her then.”

Calum’s nails were digging into his palms. “You kill her, you lose the leverage you have and you won’t get what you’re after,” he responded. It was getting difficult to control his tone, so close to losing it. His blood was boiling, skin heated from rage.

Oscar laughed, walking around the table as he gestured to the parked truck. “You’ve already brought the equipment, dumbass. I got what I wanted.”

A wry smirk curled at the corner of Michael’s lips, but Calum could see by his squared shoulders that he was feeling just as tense. The two of them were silently hoping their men would hurry up and find Ruby’s location, unsure of what was even happening since they couldn’t communicate with them, but choosing to have faith. Calum knew Michael was fighting the urge to deck Oscar just as much as he was, but they kept themselves restrained. Especially when a handful of other men had their guns pointed at them.

“Truck’s military grade, dude,” Michael informed Oscar. “Bullet proof and all. You need a code to get into the back, not to mention a code to activate the printing presses. All of which only Cal and I know.” He lifted his chin, unshaven jaw clenched as he kept a cool gaze on Oscar. “You kill my sister, there’s no way in hell you’re getting the codes.” Michael shrugged, contemptuous with a daring sympathetic smile. “And all of this would’ve been for nothing.”

Oscar looked between the two of them, expression falling flat with annoyance as he scoffed almost disbelievingly. “Are you joking?”

Calum raised a bored eyebrow. “Do we look like we’re jokin’?”

When Oscar’s eyes narrowed in aggravated irritance, Calum could tell that he was becoming aware that he was losing control of the situation. Honestly, the guy seemed like a rookie—someone interested in revenge and getting whatever he could out of it, not an experienced member of the Sabers or any gang, for that matter. He was showing his emotions clear on his face, something Calum was experienced and skilled in not doing. He knew how to play his opponents, knew what buttons to push to make them tick, whether he’s faced off with them before or not. Oscar’s jaw clenched as he ground out, “You look like a couple of idiots willing to risk the life of someone you claim to care about.”

“Do we?” Michael mused challengingly. His voice was calm, a smirk hidden within. “That’s funny—everyone we care about is safe and sound and not at all held captive by you.”

His words seemed like a bucket of ice water being dumped on Oscar as he quickly swiveled around to look at the laptop, just as Calum’s gaze returned to it as well for the first time in minutes. The heaviness in his chest was suddenly gone, lungs swelling with air he deprived them of as he watched the body of one of Oscar’s men fall right in front of the camera, lifeless, as Ruby’s widened eyes watched Luke hurriedly make his way towards her, his movements quick and efficient.

“No,” Oscar stated, numb with incredulity as he approached the laptop. “No, no, no!”

Calum watched, feeling his lips curl and heart feel as though it was floating, as Luke swiftly untied Ruby before scooping her up in his arms, and that was the last thing he saw before Oscar picked up the laptop and launched it against the nearest wall with a roaring yell. It clattered loudly, the screen turning black and shattering and Calum felt a newfound sense of relief flood him. She was safe. They’d gotten to Ruby in time, and Calum could suddenly feel like he could breathe again. He wasn’t with her, but he knew she would be okay if Luke had her. And that was reassurance enough.

As much as Calum wanted to revel in the moment of security he felt that Ruby was safe, he couldn’t afford to do so just yet as Oscar suddenly turned to face them. His eyes were wild, looking like a man not quite ready to accept defeat, as the rage and urgency seeped into his voice when he yelled at his men, “What the fuck are you waiting for? Finish them!”

Calum didn’t even have to give the signal, remaining right where he was, smug and calm as the police force came out of hiding, the factory echoing with their shouts of telling the Sabers to drop their weapons, hands on the ground. Calum stood, teeth pressed together and lips curled arrogantly, hands clasped in front of him as he kept his gaze on Oscar, ignoring the other men being put to the ground, watching as three officers pointed their guns at Oscar and told him to keep his hands right where they could see him.

His eyes never left Oscar’s, who was staring at Calum with anger swirling in his eyes at being outsmarted, though there was a certain degree of shock at the sight of the police officers. Either Oscar hadn’t been aware that their county’s officers were all on Calum’s payroll or he had completely missed that small detail. Either way, it bit him right in the ass, and Calum couldn’t keep the triumphant smirk off his face as Oscar kept his gaze on him, dropping the gun he had on him before putting his hands behind his head and sinking down to his knees.

Calum watched as one of the officers cuffed him, feeling a presence to his right before a familiar voice spoke, “Thanks for letting the force bring these assholes in.”

A wry scoff escaped Calum, glancing at Chief Arnold, dressed in his uniform and watching as his men cuffed the various remaining members of the Sabers. “You would’ve had ’em all but, y’know. . . Revenge is messy,” Calum drawled, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and placing one between his lips as he reached for his lighter.

“Some is better than none,” Chief Arnold agreed. He raised a brow at Calum. “I’m guessing Oscar’s yours?”

Calum lit the end of the cigarette, eyes trained on the man in question through the orange flame before pocketing it. His fingers then curled around the one other thing he had in his pocket, the small metallic casing of ruby red lipstick he brought with him. Calum gave it a squeeze, taking a breath as he relaxed the torrent of emotions. “I’ll come for him later,” he confirmed leisurely.

Chief Arnold nodded, not needing to hear anymore as he called for his men to wrap it up. From next to him, Calum heard Michael ask, “You gonna take care of Oscar?”

Brown eyes meeting a pair of lighter ones, Calum knew that Oscar was well aware they were talking about him. He was unceremoniously pulled up from the ground, hands cuffed behind his back and jaw tightly set as he kept his gaze on the leader of the Riders. From where he stood, Calum could see the fury in his eyes, the refusal to believe that this was over and he had lost. Calum couldn’t wait to reassure him that there was only one winner at the end of this.

He blew out a billow of smoke. “Yeah,” was all Calum said before looking at Michael, cigarette between his fingers as he clapped Michael’s shoulder with his free hand. “Come on; let’s go see our girl.”

*****

She was going to have nightmares, she knew. She’d had dreams about the bar exploding after it happened—getting kidnapped and drugged and hit? Ruby knew she probably wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep for a while. She knew she should probably talk to someone, but that was something to worry about later. The drugs had worn off and she felt like herself again, more so than she had since the moment she was taken, but it wouldn’t be easy. Whether or not she was prepared to handle it was another story.

But right now, she reveled in the safety of being in her brother’s arms.

After being checked out by the medic the Riders had on standby—because of course they had someone to medically take care of them so they didn’t have to go to the hospital—Ruby was brought to Michael and Crystal’s house upon her brother’s instructions. She remained seated on the loveseat by the window in the master bedroom, Crystal right by her side with her hand in hers and Ruby let the security of the home seep into her bones. Her surroundings were familiar, the people around her were the ones that would protect her, not harm her. She was okay, Ruby knew, but that idea didn’t truly sink into her mind until her brother burst into the room, his wild green eyes meeting her own.

Crystal had quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her as Michael held Ruby to his chest, while she made sure to press against the side of her face that wasn’t stitched up. Her arms wrapped around him, breathing in the comforting familiar scent of her big brother that wasn’t that much older than her, yet there was a sense of protectivity that only he could provide for Ruby.

She hadn’t meant for the tears to soak the front of his black shirt, hadn’t even meant to cry, but hugging Michael was just a tangible reminder that she was safe and sound, that one of the worst thing she’s experienced, next to losing her parents, was over. She’d carry it with her, she knew, but for now she was alright. For now, her heart was no longer thundering and she didn’t feel like she was suffocating and her blood didn’t feel as though it was burning in her veins. She wasn’t drugged, she wasn’t in pain, she wasn’t scared. She was just tired, but she was okay.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Rubes,” Michael was whispering, his hand rubbing up and down her back soothingly, his lips pressed against the top of her head. “So, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve—”

“Michael, stop,” Ruby pleaded with a shake of her head, pulling away from him as she rubbed her hands down her cheeks, ridding of the tears that wet them. She looked up at her brother, saw the worry and guilt and fear that was swimming in green eyes matching her own, and she offered a small smile. “This isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault except the people who took me, okay?” She took his hands in hers, giving them a squeeze as she took a breath, watching Michael nervously chew his lower lip. With a light laugh, Ruby said, “Sorry you had to cut your honeymoon short.”

Michael scoffed, shooting her a look. “You crazy?” He raised his eyebrows, fond and caring and relieved as his hands gripped Ruby’s shoulders, giving his head a shake. “Couldn’t keep me away if you tried.” The concern that was already swimming in his eyes intensified, then, as he gave Ruby a once over, looking at the stitches near her temple. She saw the way his eyebrows twitched into a frown, lips pursing as he thought of what must’ve happened, asking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Tired,” Ruby answered truthfully, the way her lips lazily quirked personifying her response. Whatever drug Oscar and his men had given her had made her increasingly lethargic, though she was just glad that the nausea wore off; it had been a few hours since the last dose they’d given her before she was rescued, so Ruby was feeling more like herself now. Still—getting drugged and being tied up wasn’t a pastime she wanted to take part in again any time soon. “But I’m here with you guys, and I’m fine. I promise.”

Michael let out a sigh before pulling her back in for a hug, holding her close and squeezing his eyes shut as he let the relief wash over him. The mere thought of something happening to Ruby had been paralyzing, unable to focus on anything from the moment he and Crystal got the call, until now with Ruby safely in his house. Nothing else mattered right now but this as Michael reinforced the preexisting vow he had to always make sure Ruby was safe. He knew it was overprotective and maybe even overbearing, but he didn’t care, at least not right now.

When they pulled away, both looking much more relaxed after that much needed embrace, Michael rubbed at Ruby’s arms before telling her, “He’s outside.”

Her lips twitched, eyes flickering past him towards the door before looking back at Michael and asking earnestly, “I wanna talk to him.”

Michael nodded, slightly stiff, before pulling away from Ruby and approaching the door. He opened it, jaw set when his eyes landed on Calum, pacing out in the hallway. He looked restless, not at all the composed leader Michael always saw him to act, head snapping towards him at the sound of the open door. He and Calum still had to talk, Michael knew, but he knew how Calum felt about Ruby. And, without her even having to say anything, Michael also knew how his sister felt about his best friend. A bit awkward for him, but he’d get over it.

“Go ahead,” was all Michael said before he walked down the hallway.

In the room, Ruby noticed the hesitance in which Calum entered. It was strange watching him shut the door behind him, lips pressed together and hands behind his back, not at all the stand she was used to. For some reason, Ruby felt nervous; Calum was always so put together, always had everything under control for the majority of the time. And, sure, she’d seen him lose it, but this was different. Within a second, Ruby picked up on the guilt in his dark eyes, in the way his throat worked and the way he chewed his lips—lips she had kissed and craved to feel again.

There was a heavy silence between them as they took in each other’s presence, something they’d been deprived of for too long. Ruby hadn’t realized how much she had missed him. She’d been gone for a day, maybe, but God, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Calum. She’d been terrified, hoping that they’d find her and hating that she was too drugged to move and get herself out of there. Every time Ruby fell unconscious, she dreamed of Calum bursting through those doors, pulling her into his capable arms and reassuring her that she was safe. But then she’d wake up and realize that was only a dream and she was still living a nightmare.

Calum broke the silence, voice raspy as he quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

Ruby offered a breathless smile. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“So have you.”

He gave a disbelieving, scoffing shake of his head, looking away from Ruby, giving her a view of his working jaw. “’S incomparable. So don’t try, Red.”

Her heart tugged at his use of the nickname. Ruby’s lips pressed together, twitching upwards into an almost sad smile as Calum remained by the door, gaze on anything but her. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Calum squeezed his eyes shut, facing Ruby but leaning his head against the door, still refusing to look at her. His expression was tight, conflicted with furrowed eyebrows and Ruby took in a deep breath despite the crushing weight on her chest. He looked like he was struggling, neck tense and hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Ruby wasn’t sure why her eyes were burning, but the sight of Calum and the lingering overwhelming emotions from everything that’s happened brought tears to her eyes. The entire time the Sabers had her, all Ruby wanted was to be with Calum. Now that they were in the same room, he couldn’t even look at her.

Her heart hurt.

“This is my fault.” The hoarseness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Calum kept his eyes closed, though his face was screwed in guilty aggravation. “I fucked up.”

His words had her moving, throat dry as she wiped at her eyes and came to stand in front of Calum. He could feel her presence, she knew, and Ruby reached up to gently cup Calum’s face in her hands, careful of the bruise on his jaw, eyeing the cut on his lip as she brushed her thumbs on his cheeks.

“It’s not. I’m okay. This isn’t on you,” Ruby told him, her voice soft, a bit of a whisper. “I don’t blame you; please don’t blame yourself.”

Calum let her hold his face, a sense of warmth flooding him at her soft touch, heart lurching at the feel of her skin against his. Reluctantly, Calum opened his eyes, culpable brown meeting tearing green, air rushing out of his lungs as he took her in. she looked tired, rightfully so, yet still so effortlessly beautiful. Her lips didn’t have their normal red tint, instead pale and slightly chapped, long lashes framing green eyes swimming with concern and reassurance.

She was the one who had been kidnapped, yet was also the one worrying about Calum.

When would he stop being so fucking selfish?

He let his gaze calculatingly wash over her for a few seconds. Knowing she could feel his bruised jaw tighten under her touch when he looked at the treated injury by her temple. There was also a pale yellowing bruise coloring the top of her cheekbone on the same side of her face. The acknowledgment of her being hit boiled the blood in Calum’s veins and lurched his stomach in acidic nausea.

Swallowing, Calum’s hand slowly raised as his ring clad finger brushed away a few strands of her blonde hair, ever so gently grazing around her injury in the most feather-like touch he’s ever managed. Ruby watched him observe her, feeling the familiar electricity with his touch, watching as his gaze flickered down to her wrists and his full lips pursed. The fire was ever present in his eyes as he took in the pinkened skin where she had been bound by the zipties. Fuck, his heart felt like it was being constricted.

“I’m sorry.” Ruby’s heart dropped at the broken sound of Calum’s voice, her lower lip trembling at how it didn’t suit him at all. His eyebrows drew together guiltily, gaze dropping away from her as he frowned, almost distressfully, at the ground. “I am. . . So fuckin’ sorry for not bein’ able to protect you. I shouldn’t have left—”

“Calum, stop.” Having both Michael and Calum express such obvious guilt was unsettling, two of the strongest men she knew crumbling in front of her. But, God, the sight and sound of Calum so clearly beating himself up for something he had no control over and looking nothing like the hard faced, notorious leader of the Riders had Ruby’s heart sinking. She’d seen what guilt could do to him, knew that even the toughest man had his breaking points. To see him reaching his because of her was heartbreaking. That’s the only way Ruby could describe it. It was wrong and awful made her chest feel heavy. “I’m okay and I’m here. You got me back.”

Calum’s lips pressed together, uncaring of the cut as he said through gritted teeth, “I put you in danger.”

“Stop,” Ruby repeated, her voice firmer and hands shifting up on his face so her fingers met his curls. “Drowning yourself in guilt isn’t going to do anything. With this kind of life, shit like this is expected, isn’t it?”

At that, Calum let out a disagreeing scoff, pushing himself away from the door and walking further into the room. He ignored the emptiness he felt when the distance between him and Ruby increased, running his fingers through his hair and ignoring the sting of his knuckles as they flexed and he argued, “This isn’t your life, Ruby. This shit isn’t supposed to happen to you.”

His back was to her, but Calum still heard the distress in her voice as she responded, “It’s the life of people I love, so it might as well be!” Calum paused, hesitantly disbelieving gaze on the window as he heard Ruby let out a sharp breath. “Because I love you, Calum, and I don’t care about the risks if it means I get to be with you.”

If he thought his heart was struggling before, it was nothing compared to this.

Calum stared out the window, lips parted and breath heavy and blinking rapidly as Ruby’s words rang through his mind. He was frozen; frozen in his heart, his body, and his mind where the only thought echoing was that Ruby loved him. That this wonderful fucking woman who went from being just his best friend’s sister, to someone he had to keep protected, to the only person Calum had let his guard down around and fell in love with without even realizing loved him back.

Him falling for her had happened out of nowhere, completely blindsiding him and knocking him off his feet. But the fact that she actually returned those same overwhelming feelings? That was un-fucking-real. That was more than he deserved. Because how could someone so kind and genuine as her fall for someone living a life as twisted as him?

When he turned around, Calum knew that Ruby felt as genuinely about her words as she’d spoken. He saw the way her eyebrows were drawn together, hopeful that he would believe her and in her words. The damned silence fell upon them once more and through his stunned gaze Calum could see the worry seep back into Ruby’s eyes—only this time it wasn’t just worry over him. Now it was worry over how he would react to the bombshell she’d just dropped, words that she’d blurted without entirely thinking them through because, shit, there had been moments she thought she was going to die. And she couldn’t have died without telling Calum how she felt.

She stared at him, took in the slightly widened brown eyes and parted lips and smoothed out eyebrows as he gave himself a moment to process her words. Each moment that passed by without a response increased Ruby’s nervous heart rate, gazing at the man in front her expectantly—but not too much, because he didn’t owe her anything.

But, shit, she wished he’d say something.

Calum Hood liked to surprise her. So of course, rather than saying anything, he kissed her.

He was in front of her within a blink of an eye and his hands were on her face, warm save for the shock of cool metal of his rings, before his lips came down upon hers in a much needed, desperately heated kiss. Ruby’s response was instant, heart practically jumping out of her chest as her hands blindly found the lapels of his leather jacket, pulling him closer and leaning more into the kiss. Calum didn’t even care for the cut on his lip, too lost in the sensation of Ruby’s body against his, feeling, for the first time, calm in the wake of the torrential storm that had been wracking his body.

His large hands held her face and his head was ducked so he could kiss her, tilting to deepen the kiss and groaning low in his throat as his tongue slid against hers. It felt electric, dizzying and relieving all at once. And Calum pulled away a few moments later, speaking breathlessly as he did so. “I couldn’t breathe.” His eyes were shut, forehead pressed against Ruby’s as he could hear and feel her heavy breath. The sound of his heart thundering was loud in his ears, but Ruby grounded him as he gave a slow shake of his head, forehead still against hers. “From the second I realized you were gone, I couldn’t breathe. Not until now.”

Calum pulled away and Ruby opened her eyes to see him looking at her, and there was a softness in his dark eyes she’d never seen before. Warm and gentle, just like his hold on her despite the urgency of the breathless kiss, staring up at him earnestly as her hand came up to gently cup the uninjured side of his jaw, thumb softly brushing across the cut on his kissed lip that twitched upwards in a smile. “I can breathe because you’re back. And because I love you. More than I thought I was capable of.” His last few words were spoken through a breathlessly disbelieving laugh, gazing at Ruby as if she was some kind of wonder, smitten and all for her.

She couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face, wide and genuine and somewhat tearful but she couldn’t keep it off her face. Because she had fallen hard and fallen fast, unaware that her feelings for the man in front of her were even changing until it hit her just how much she cared for him, wanted him, and to know he was just as dizzy as her was fucking amazing.

So she kissed him again, because she could, and her heart was fucking soaring.

“Mm, wait,” Calum hummed against her lips moments later, as they pulled away Ruby raised an eyebrow. But Calum just looked at her, smirking, as one hand dug into the pocket of his jacket before pulling it out. “I’ve got somethin’ of yours.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed curiously as her gaze followed Calum lifting his hand, before her mouth dropped in a laugh when he revealed what he was holding. Her favorite lipstick from Anastasia Beverly Hills, her signature true red color in the shade named after her. Calum held the lipstick between his index finger and thumb, holding it up for her with a raise of his eyebrows and a smirk on his lips, and Ruby shook her head in complete fondness because of course he had it in his pocket.

“Had to reunite you with your one true love, Red,” Calum teased, smirk widening into a grin that had Ruby’s heart jumping.

She returned the smile, taking the lipstick from his hand and clutching it in her fist, looking up at the dark haired man as she told him sincerely, “You already have.”

*****

The second Calum slid into the back of the transportation truck, he noticed the sudden tension straightening Oscar’s back. Slamming the door shut behind him, Calum sat on the bench opposite of Oscar, whose wrists and ankles were chained together, a step up from when the fucker had those zip ties on Ruby. Oscar stared at him, lips tight yet unable to hide the dumbfoundment in his eyes at the sight of Calum in the truck with him. In the truck that was transporting him from the county jail to the state prison—the very truck that had suddenly spotted on a deserted road miles upon miles out of town.

Calum sat, legs apart as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs and ring clad fingers linked together as he tauntingly tilted his head. The usual air of dominance he had was suffocating Oscar as Calum sat in his usual all black ensemble, from the leather jacket to the polished boots. “I’m sorry—did you actually think you were bein’ transferred?” He spoke as if he was talking to a child, slowly and voice laced with exaggerated mock. “You blew up my pub, killed my men, and tried to kill my girl. That’s punishable by death, mate.”

Oscar’s silent resolve crumbled, face twisting in a fierce scowl as he spat, “They deserve to rot in hell. And your girl’s lucky all I did was drug her—could’ve had my way but I don’t fuck with Rider trash.”

Oscar’s words were like fuel to the fire already burning in Calum’s veins, his movements swift with how he swung a right hook right into Oscar’s jaw, leaning back in satisfaction as the sound of his fist colliding with Oscar’s skin echoed in the truck and watching as he crumpled on his side to the bench he was sitting on. His face was screwed up in pain, chains not allowing him much freedom as he spat out a mouthful of blood on the bench before trying to sit up.

Instead of letting him do so, Calum got up from the bench, having to bend a bit because they were still inside the truck, as he grabbed the back of Oscar’s shirt with one hand and slid him forward as his other hand opened the back door. “Well, whaddya know,” Calum mused, voice dangerously casual as he used his single handed grip on Oscar to toss him out of the truck, watching as he fell unceremoniously to the dirt ground as jumped out of the truck. The ground crunched under Calum’s boots as he squinted slightly against the sun, aware of the three police officers watching. Calum tilted his chin, eyes on Oscar as he pathetically tried to push himself off the ground. “I don’t fuck with Saber trash.”

Oscar finally got to his feet, staggering thanks to the heavy chains binding him together. The guy breathed heavily, lips and teeth stained crimson, the slight breeze ruffling his hair as he watched Calum hold a hand out. One of the cops pulled his gun out of the holster, handing it over to Calum, and Oscar knew. He knew this was planned from the second Calum slid into the truck, but with the officer handing him his own gun, Oscar knew they were going to make his death look like an attempt to escape.

While one officer gave Calum the gun, another walked over and undid the chains holding Oscar together as they fell to the ground in a heap. The cops stepped out of the way, and an easy, menacing smirk quirked at Calum’s lips as he encouraged, “I’ll even give you a head start.”

Oscar gaped at him for a moment, unsure if he was going to believe Calum, until the tattooed Rider just waved the gun with an expectant raise of his eyebrows. And then Oscar turned and took off, running as fast as his feet could carry him as Calum watched him go, dust kicking behind his feet as he went. And then Calum smirked, once against raising the gun, squinting one eye against the sun as well as to get his aim before he pulled the trigger.

Oscar didn’t even get to register the boom of the gun, a pained scream escaping him as his legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground, a bullet buried in the back of his calf. Lowering his arm, Calum strolled over to where Oscar was on the ground, leg bleeding and his forearms on the ground as his hands curled into fists, head bowed as he continuously groaned at the bullet burning into his muscle. There was a splatter of blood on the ground that was beginning to pool as blood leaked from the bullet hole, and Calum walked to stand next to Oscar.

Then, with his foot, Calum dug it under Oscar’s stomach before turning him over, watching calmly as Oscar rolled over with a thud, laying on his back and groaning at the pain in his leg. His face was screwed up, the sun beaming down on him and the front of his clothes riddled with dirt. He managed to open his scrunched up eyes, the sun blinding yet he still managed to look up at Calum.

And, of course, the Rider reveled in the paralyzing fear he could see in his eyes. It’s what this little piece of shit deserved. There was something sinfully satisfying at the knowledge that the very last thing Oscar would be seeing was the face of the man he tried to fuck over.

One corner of Calum’s lips curled up into a malicious smirk, utterly taunting. “I got a message for your Uncle Hawkins.” He pointed the gun, aiming it from where he stood right to Oscar’s forehead as he stared up at Calum, eyes widening and breathing heavy and mute in terror. Fucking good. Calum’s finger was on the trigger. “Tell him. . . I win.”

His words were followed by the sound of his gun going off, and it was over.

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @valentinelrh @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @astroashtonio @calumh-excess @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @angelbbycal @captain-what-is-going-on @calumthoodsyonce @cathartichaoss @misskarynie @softboycal @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @cxddlyash @calumhoodless @roselukes @wrappedaroundcal @slimthicccal @kinglycalum @calumculture @ohhmuke @fucking5sos @heavenlyhemminqs @cosmixcalum @invisiblexcth @gettingjillywithit @calistheloml @cliffordcntrl @asht0ns-world @hereforlukescruff @ghostofch @ghostofhood @dxmncalum @bitchinbabylon @walkedhomealone @poppedpins @5secondssofssummer @calumsmermaid @booklove-2 @empathycth @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @kchillout @rosecoloredash @theagenderwhocriedwolf @cal-pal-cuddles @xhaileyreneex @paqueretteash @calteahood @biwriting @2k17muke @sublimehood @tupeloohoneyy @egyptiangoldhood @x-valntyne-x @bloodlinecal @97britt @emma070900 @mmxiihood @monsteramongmikey @akacalciumhood @thebodaciouscth @5sos-stan4lyfe @lipstickstainfading @flannelpunkcalum @inlovehoodx @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @grittyisathot @fireupthatthrone @lmao5sosimagines @isabella-mae13 @mysteriouslycali @maddiebee2019 @blamexcalum @teageowen @raabiac @fallfrxmgrace @dontjinx-it @thewackywriter @caswinchester2000 @calntynes @post-traumatic-mess @kisssmefree

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thattennisgirl · 5 years

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First Impressions Part 3 - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Loki starts his undercover training with the Reader. Loki is not quite accustomed to Midgardian lifestyles much to the dismay of the Reader. Inspired by Thor’s "ANOTHER” scene in Thor 1.

Part 3 to this fic “First Impressions Part 2″

Post-Thor Ragnarok, but an AU where Infinity War/Endgame does not occur. Loki joins the Avengers. Reader works for Stark Industries and with the Avengers. The Reader is now Loki’s new partner.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.1K

—————

To the ordinary eye, nothing seemed amiss at all in the outdoor coffee shop. A young waitress smiled as she moved to her next customers, the smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries lingered outside. The commuters passing by the shop completely unaware of the tension of the two individuals inside. One of the individuals was not even of Earth.

Instead, if someone had looked more closely they would have noticed the slight intensity of the couple at a table in the very corner of the outdoor area. The young male was handsome, with dark raven hair that fell in soft waves to his shoulders, a black suit complementing his lean athletic looking body. His blue-green eyes had a sharp intensity to them that caused others to look away. The female seated across from him, seemed completely unfazed by his gaze as she moved her coffee mug up to her lips.

However, unfazed was not exactly what you were feeling right now as you held your mug closely. A small smirk touched the lips of your companion and your knuckles turned white as you gripped the mug tighter. It was not supposed to be this way.

You were a complete natural at disguises, an expert by all means and you had been sent on many undercover missions for SHIELD before it’s collapse. Blending in was easy for you when you understood the expectations of everyone around you. But it was even easier when you were on your own or had a partner of the same expertise level. But this time, you would not be so fortunate.

Loki Odinson had been nothing but trouble and mischief since his arrival to Earth with the refugee Asgardians. They came seeking a new home since their last one had been destroyed by Ragnarok. And because the stuck-up, no good, weasel prince was still under surveillance for his alien stunt in NYC, Loki Odinson was now an Avenger-in-training. And you were his temporary partner for the time being which meant putting up with his ridiculous behavior such as challenges and attempts to best you in knife-fights. Not to mention his completely unfair usage of magic.

This was a horrible idea, you wanted to whine at Maria Hill as your eyes scanned your surroundings looking for your target. Just fucking great, babysitting duty and training at the same time. You thought as Loki eyed you thoughtfully. You kept yourself from jumping as his legs brushed yours for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Such a foul mood today, I wonder what could have possibly caused such a thing, dear partner?”

“Shut up Loki.” You mumbled as your eyes glanced past him to try and find the male suspect the team was watching for.

Loki continued on as if he had not heard you. “It must be quite terrible, going from SHIELD to this.” Loki said the word with disgust, “Do you always do what Stark tells you to?”

“Are you still that upset about your failed world domination thing or just embarrassed that the Hulk kicked your ass?” You replied without missing a beat, a small smirk tilting your lips as you noticed his immediate frown.

The god leaned forward, undoubtedly an attempt to intimidate you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, mortal.”

“Obviously I do.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort but a feminine voice beat him to it.

“Hi, is everything okay so far for you two?” The young brunette waitress asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Loki in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. Ever since the two of you had begun your undercover training in public, the numerous women had flirted with the Asgardian. Although none of them seemed to be aware that he was a lethal alien who had nearly wiped out NYC years prior. No, you imagined it was his outrageously good looks, sharp cheekbones, and ocean eyes that attracted nearly every female within a 100-mile radius.

Loki turned to the waitress and nodded, “Thank you for the drink, I will have another.”

“Yes we’re fine, thank y-” You were interrupted by a loud crash and shattering. You turned to see that Loki’s ceramic mug now lay a pile of ceramic shards on the ground. Your wide eyes turned immediately to see Loki’s calm, rather bored looking ones and his pale hand that moved away from the side of the table. It was obvious he had thrown the mug to the ground.

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from lashing out at him knowing it would blow your cover if you did. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” You apologized as you jumped out of your chair to help the waitress clean up the mess.

“Oh no worries, it happens sometimes.” The waitress laughed lightly, trying to hide the startled look in her eyes. You almost felt bad for her, almost.

“What is your problem?” You hissed at him over the table, now that people in the shop were staring at the two of you.

“I am merely showing my appreciation for the drink” Loki stated like it was the most obvious answer as he analyzed his nails.

“No, that is just rude!” You growled in irritation and Loki blinked before narrowing his eyes.

“It was not my intention to be disrespectful, I thought that was how Midgardian etiquette works.”

“You might be savages on Asgard, but here on Earth, we ask nicely for a drink, instead of breaking things.” You sighed when Loki shot you a dark glare, “From now on, please ask, no more smashing.”

“Y/N, what is going on over there?” Natasha’s voice echoed in your earpiece, “I thought I told you both to stay low.”

“Sorry, Loki had a small misunderstanding.” You muttered, glancing at the Asgardian who crossed his arms. You felt your mouth dry at the way the black fabric of his suit tightened over his shoulders. Why the hell did he look so good in a suit?

“Y/N, don’t let it happen again. We’ve got bigger things to deal with than Loki right now.” Steve Rogers said firmly over the comms.

“Yes sir.” You cut off Loki who had opened his mouth to mock the captain. You sent him a reprimanding look as you went to silence your mic. Taking a small sip of your coffee, you ignored Loki’s frown. If he thought he was angry now, he was not going to like what you had planned.

“Fine, your next step to being undercover is learning to apologize, properly.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki’s shocked expression nearly had you laughing. Instead, your lips twitched in amusement.

“Close, but not quite. I want you to apologize to the waitress for breaking the mug.” Your grin widened as Loki paled at the thought.

“Absolutely not.”

“You will. We won’t leave until you do. A lack of good manners could ruin a disguise on a mission.” You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair, for once feeling some semblance of control over the Asgardian. While you knew you should be keeping an eye out for your target, training the jerk prince would be much more entertaining.

Loki contemplated you for a moment, briefly considering running off but knowing the consequences of such would not be worth it. Loki’s eyes trailed over your casual clothing, not too different from what you wore when you lounged in the Avenger’s facility. But this time, you wore a baseball cap to discretely hide your identity. He couldn’t help but think you looked much more beautiful without it hiding your expressive eyes. Despite his admiration, he was not about to let you win this round.

“Fine, then I shall practice on you before she returns.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary--” You cut yourself off when the Asgardian reached forward quicker than you could blink. You tensed for a moment, expecting a scuffle and a fight in public, but instead, cool hands grasped your left hand that had been resting on the table.

His hands were longer and larger than you own, but still slender, reminding you much of a piano player’s hands. They deftly wrapped around your single hand, engulfing it whole and pulling you in closer to him. You grit your teeth, now nearly leaning out of your chair.

The Asgardian had a wicked grin on his face as he leaned closer to you. He was so close you could smell his distinct scent of leather and something fresh, perhaps mint or pine? His eyes held you captive as his thumb gently caressed the inside of your wrist in a way that almost felt genuine and had your heart thudding quickly.

“My lady,” Loki’s smooth baritone emphasized each word and you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment as his eyes lit with mischief, “I think it is you who should apologize to me.” Then the bastard had the audacity to pull your hand to his lips.

You let out an unladylike squeak and quickly yanked your hand back before he could kiss it. Ignoring the sudden disappointment that welled up inside you, you fixed him with a glare. “A terrible apology and a cheap flirt, I thought you could do better than that Loki.”

But Loki could tell you were lying at the way your cheeks warmed under his gaze and his gaze flickered over your appearance as you fiddled with your mug. “You liked it enough.”

Your mouth gaped in surprise but you were saved by the return of the waitress, who brought a new mug of coffee to Loki. “Here you go.”

Loki immediately caught the girl’s wrist, his eyes watching her after he sent an amused glance your way. “I must apologize for my actions earlier, I did not mean to frighten you.” His hand gently held her own, “I wish to recompense you for the damages.”

“Oh, it’s o-okay. D-don’t worry about it.” The young girl’s cheeks went red, for a moment you worried that she might faint from all of his attention.

“Please, I insist.” Loki nodded at her, and you had to keep yourself from scoffing at his overly saccharine tone.

“Oh, well okay.” She nervously fiddled with her hair, “Do you mind if I ask you a favor?”

Loki sent a victorious smirk your way and you rolled your eyes, wishing she would just leave as you sipped your drink once more while Loki eagerly leaned towards her. “Please do.”

“Can you give Thor my number?”

You sputtered in surprise, spilling coffee all over the table and coughing, trying to disguise your laughter at Loki’s angered look. So much for keeping it on the low.

“Excuse me?” Loki asked in barely concealed rage.

“You’re his brother, right? Just give him my number, it’s not that hard. Thanks.” She wrote her number on the bill receipt and then turned away.

You snorted and Loki glared, you were desperately trying to wipe your tears of laughter. “I’m sorry, that was too funny.”

While Loki couldn’t help but think you were even more beautiful when laughing (if that was even possible), he was not about to let his pride take such a harsh blow.

“I’m going to kill her.” Loki stood up and magically summoned his knives to his hands. The murderous intent in his eyes signaled that he was quite serious.

You panicked and stood up just as quickly. You grabbed his wrists and pulled them back to his sides even as he towered over you and now focused his cold gaze on you, “No stabbing civilians.”

Instead, you settled for placating him with a gentle smile as you laid out cash for the bill and tip. It was time to meet up with Natasha anyway and get an update on the suspect.

You grasped Loki’s hand, noticing how he tensed for a moment at your touch before relaxing, then tightening his hand around yours. You sighed in relief that he had not pushed you away this time, but now his beautiful eyes were settled on you. For a moment, you couldn’t help but think that the waitress was a fool for picking Thor over Loki. Smiling, even more than you thought possible, you pulled him along, “Stabbing is not acceptable in our society either.”

“How terribly boring you Midgardians are.”

“You have no idea.” You giggled and Loki paused, his heart skipping a beat at the beautiful sound. He longed to hear it more. It gave him some pride to know he was the reason for such a delightful sound. “Loki, you have so much to learn about Midgardian culture.”

As Loki followed your lead, he glanced down at your adjoined hands. It was the first time in a while that Loki realized he was looking forward to something in his life.

————— TAGLIST

@meraki--mei //tag not working

@fire-in-her-veinz

@jessiejunebug

@grahoundart

Note: I am sorry this took me an eternity to get around to, I had some personal health issues and school to take care of first. But, I am officially a university grad! Thinking of creating a part 4.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #reader fanfiction #loki odinson #reader insert #firstimpressionsfic

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elliemarchetti · 6 years

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Fremione Fic part 3

I apologize for the long absence but I was traveling with my best friend and I did not have access to a wi-fi for a week. Also, I have the bad habit of not saving what I write until the first draft is over, the computer I'm writing from is stuffed and I've lost all the fanfiction I was writing. If this is some kind of karma, I want to know what I have done to the world to deserve it. In any case, here is the third, troubled chapter of my fanfiction.

Words: 1549

Hermione and Ginny entered the kitchen, pale and swollen with sleep.

"Why do we have to get up so early?" Ginny asked, rubbing her eyes. Hermione did not even try to look at the other diners.

"We have to take a walk." Mr. Weasley answered, joyful and Hermione bitterly regretted accepting Fred's offer.

Breakfast did not improve at all, with Mrs. Weasley screaming at the twins for trying to get as many candies away from home as possible. Hermione wanted to say something, but she had neither the strength nor the right to do it, no matter how unpleasant it was. The atmosphere, when they left, was tense, with Mrs. Weasley still altered and the twins who did not even say goodbye before going out the door and through the dark courtyard. Hermione followed them, sure she was not in Mrs. Weasley's graces, and was amazed at how cold the air was. The moon still shone in the sky, only a strip of a dark greenish tint on the horizon signaled the imminent arrival of dawn. They walked along the wet avenue of Ottery St. Catchpole, the village they had to cross to get to Stoatshead Hill, where the Portkey was. If before Harry and Mr. Weasley had chatted amiably, making the journey less heavy, now the silence had fallen, broken only by the sound of their steps, making that walk more like a procession than anything else. Furthermore, Hermione was freezing. When Fred saw her shiver for the umpteenth time, he took off the heavy sweater he wore, and silently handed it to his friend. Hermione did not even have the strength to smile at him, imagine thanking him in words! The breath was already beginning to fail her and when they began to climb up the hill, Hermione tripped over into hidden rabbit dens and slipped on scraps of earth. Fred stood next to her, ready to catch her and stop her from falling face into mud. With each breath, the air seemed to penetrate like a blade in Hermione's chest, and at the same time, it was never enough. The muscles of her legs were burning madly, when they finally reached a clearing flat. With horror, however, she discovered that it was not over yet, and let Fred drag her along with George in search of the Portkey. Her presence was not very helpful, and she kept wondering why Mr. Weasley did not draw it to him with a spell. However, after just a couple of minutes, a tall, brown-bearded man, who must have been a friend of Mr. Weasley's, yelled at him that he found it, and so they stopped looking, and everyone approached Amos Diggory, and his son Cedric, a handsome boy in his seventeen years who, for his misfortune, had beaten Gryffindor in the first league match of the previous year, attracting on him the infamous Weasley Twins hatred.

"It’s been a long way, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked, and Hermione would have had a lot to say about that crazy trip, but she remained silent, even as Mr. Weasley introduced her as a friend of Ron's, even while hanging on Fred's arm, and even when Mr. Diggory gave them a significant look. In any case, the attention remained on them for very little, as Mr. Weasley also introduced Harry, and Amos, like anyone else, seemed to go crazy at the idea of being in front of who, when he was still a child, had killed Lord Voldemort.

"It must be almost time." said Mr. Weasley quickly, probably to change the subject, and finally he turned to Harry and Hermione, and explained to them that they only had to touch the Portkey, that even a finger would be enough. With difficulty, because of the swollen backpacks, all nine tightened in circles around the boot that Amos Diggory held in his hand, while a cold breeze caressed the top of the hill, making Hermione cringe further. Who knows what would have thought, a Muggle, seeing that scene. Mr. Weasley even started counting down.

It all happened in a moment. It was like being a fish caught on a hook: her feet came off the ground, and Hermione felt Fred and Harry on either side of her, shoulder to shoulder, and they all darted in a howl of wind and swirling color. Her forefinger was glued to the boot as if dragged by a magnet, and then, without warning, her feet abruptly touched the ground, Harry nearly dropped on her, and Fred grabbed her before both his and George’s knee gave up on them. Hermione hurried to her feet and studied the deserted strip of foggy moor where they had come. In front of them was a pair of tired, grumpy-looking wizards, who hastily greeted Mr. Weasley and gave them extremely vague directions as to where the camp was located, looking at everyone with a certain disdain. So they set out on the deserted moor, unable to see much through the mist, and after about twenty minutes they finally saw a small stone house near a gate; on the door there was a man, who looked perplexed at the hundreds and hundreds of tents erected on the side of a large field that rose gently towards a dense forest that covered the horizon. A single glance was enough for Hermione to understand that he was the only true Muggle within a radius of several miles. When he heard them coming, he turned to look at them, and Mr. Weasley's friendliness was useless against his suspects.

"Foreign?" asked Mr. Roberts. Hermione was the quickest to answer, and confirmed his theory. Obviously, however, her words would have been useless, with the bizarre group that she brought below. So it was that, to her horror, she saw a wizard appear from nowhere in a pair of knickerbockers. He aimed his wand at the head of the Muggle and sharply pronounced a spell that made Mr. Roberts's eyes vacuous and smoothed his eyebrows, replacing his suspicious look with one of blissful indifference. Hermione had to look away and buried her face in Fred's chest. She knew it was right that way, but she could not stop thinking that one day or another, a wizard would have decided that her parents knew too much and, without too much qualms, would have made sure that they forgot everything about the Wizarding World, including her.

They were on the Tribune of Honor when Mr. Malfoy's eyes rested on Hermione, who blushed but did not look down, returning his gaze firmly. Fred almost jumped when he felt Hermione's fingers searching for his, hoping it would give her the strength and comfort she could not find in herself. Fred tightened his grip, hoping the girl would understand that he would be willing to punch that racist family, if only this made her feel better. When they left, a bad comment escaped Fred’s lips, but no one around them seemed to hear him, besides Hermione, who smiled gratefully. Even when Ludo arrived, starting the presentation of the mascots, Hermione did not let go of his hand, but rather, intertwined her fingers with his, looking everywhere but not at Fred’s face, who instead noticed that the girl was blushed further. The first mascots were the Veela of Bulgaria. They were the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but he was puzzled when they began to dance and everyone seemed to fall into a kind of crazy trance. He exchanged a perplexed glance with Hermione as they watched Ron try to tear the clover to his hat and Harry, who had partly climbed over the forum wall. Wrathful screams filled the stadium; the crowd did not want the Veela to leave and Fred was afraid it might start a riot at any moment. Then Ludo introduced the Irish mascot, and the spirits subsided with the arrival of a large green and gold comet that came darting into the stadium.

"Excellent!" Ron roared when the comet turned into a giant clover composed of leprechauns who threw gold coins to the entire public. As soon as he regretted it, Fred left Hermione's hand and tried to grab as many coins as possible. The huge clover finally dissolved, and the leprechauns glided across the field, on the other side of the Veela, and sat cross-legged to enjoy the game.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Bulgarian Quidditch National Team!" Ludo exclaimed, announcing one by one the names of the players, and then doing the same with the Irish ones.

"And here comes to you, live from Egypt, our referee, the acclaimed president of the International Quidditch Federation, Hassan Mustafa!" Ludo exclaimed, referring to a small and thin magician, completely bald but with a thick mustache, dressed in pure gold.

"We met him!" Fred exclaimed enthusiastically, more to Hermione than to Harry. Hermione smiled, but probably had not heard a word.

"You should have been there, you would have liked it." he muttered, to himself and then back to focus his attention on Mustafa who mounted on the broom and opened the box containing the Quaffle, the Bludgers and the golden Snitch. He was sure Hermione had not heard, but it did not matter: he needed to say it.

#fremione fic #fremione #fred weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter #george weasley #percy weasley #charlie weasley #bill weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley #amos diggory #cedric diggory #quidditch #ludo bagman #hassan mustafa #victor krum

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tonystarktogo · 7 years

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Tiny Tony Overlord Part 2

Part I | Read on AO3

Betaed by the amazing @folklejend. All remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy! :)

Chapter 2: Recap

.Helicarrier.

“Everybody shut up!” Nick Fury yells and finally, for the first time in twelve long, frustrating hours, blessed silence reigns in SHIELD’s headquarters.

With a deep sigh, Fury closes his eye, opens it again, and lets his gaze wander over the assembled people, all of whom belong to the best of the best SHIELD has to offer.

At 4:12 am, his entire organisation is on the brink of total mayhem, all because of one man. Or rather the disappearance of one man. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that said man is Anthony Stark.

“We’ve got a room filled with some the best hackers, analysts, profilers, tacticians and spies in the world,” Fury says after a long moment, just barely restraining himself to keep from screaming. “Now can someone, anyone, explain to me how we’ve lost Iron Man in the middle of New York City with no ideas as to where he is or who might’ve taken him? Anyone?”

This time, the silence is a lot less blessed and a lot more tense.

[continue under the cut]

Fury rubs his temples. “Alright then. Hill! What do we know about the attack?”

Maria Hill straightens in her seat. “Oliver McWalker, age twenty seven, studied micro-biology until he dropped out of college after he was accused of regular misuse of the equipment and several cases of theft. No suspicious activity after that, no arrests, nothing that pinged our radar.” Hill clicks her tongue, obviously displeased by that oversight.

“Yesterday at 2:39 pm, McWalker set off a couple of small explosive devices in a park.” Hill presses a couple of keys on her keyboard and the screen to her left flares to life, depicting the surveillance footage from the park in question. “The authorities were first alerted at 2:42. A domestic terrorism special unit was supposed to handle it, with the support of the local police force. McWalker proceeded to use a device similar to a flamethrower that appears to contain a violet, highly flammable substance, as well as several other weapons the officers on the scene assumed to be magical. Our lab is still working to identify them all. The Avengers’ assistance was requested at 2:54. Captain America, Hawkeye, Black Widow and Iron Man were sent in and arrived at 3:01.”

Hill pauses for a moment to take a gulp of the huge cup of coffee in her hand. An unsubtle reminder that even Fury’s always impeccably dressed and composed assistant is running on less than four hours of sleep.

“Captain America engaged McWalker with Black Widow as back-up whilst Hawkeye and Iron Man helped with the evacuation. Now this,” Hill points at the screen, where the images flicker and turn black almost simultaneously, “is where things get spotty. It appears that before being subdued by Captain America, McWalker managed to set off an explosion of sort that disabled any working technology within two miles of the blast. According to Hawkeye, Stark was forced to leave his suit, which we have been unable to recover. Hawkeye then lost sight of Stark when a group of armed men in black combat uniforms attacked them. Black Widow and Captain America never saw Stark thorough the entire battle.”

Another screen flares to life, this one displaying a map of the location of the attack.

“This,” Hill points at a side street near the park’s back-entrance, “is Stark’s last known location. In his direct vicinity, one grocery story, two cafés and a house have been damaged by the fight.”

“So we know he’s been there,” Fury muses. “The rest of the team?”

“Captain America and Black Widow didn’t leave the park until near the end of the fight. Hawkeye appears to have started out on the other side of the road and then moved towards the main street.”

Three dots appear on the map. The fourth one remains a single question mark.

Fury frowns at the screen. “Was Stark intentionally separated from the others?”

“It’s possible.” Hill tilts her head in consideration. “But we don’t have the necessary data to confirm it.”

“Was the electrical wipe-out intentionally used to make Iron Man vulnerable?”

“It’s possible, but we don’t have the necessary data to confirm it.”

“Was Stark taken or killed?”

“It’s possible.” Hill pauses.

“But we don’t have the necessary data to confirm it?”

“You’re a quick learner, sir.”

Fury glowers at his cheeky assistant. “In short, we don’t know if Stark was the intended target, we don’t know if McWalker was working alone or if this was a coordinated attack, we don’t know what weapons he used, we don’t know where Stark is or whether or not he’s alive, we don’t know what happened to his armour, we don’t know who the enemy forces were working for, and we don’t know about anything that happened within a two-mile radius from that damn park.”

“That about sums it up, sir.” Hill takes another gulp of her coffee.

“What about the bodies?” Fury stares at the headshots of the men that didn’t live to tell the tale after facing of against the combined force of three of SHIELD’s most dangerous agents.

“None of them appear in any of our databases,” Hill denies with a shake of her head.

“So another dead end then.”

Hill sends him a half-hearted smirk. “I’m afraid so, sir. Our techs are tracking McWalker’s movements to figure out how he got a hold of the components of these weapons, but so far they haven’t made much progress. Our only lead is the three surviving, unidentified men we have in our custody. They are likely to wake up sometime in the next 48 hours.”

“Mother fucking Stark and his god damn drama!” Fury pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Alright, Wesley, get me Romanov on the line. Last thing I need is for the Avengers to go and make this mess even worse. Hill, take care of our wannabe villains. Nobody sees them, nobody talks to them, nobody who isn’t already in this room even knows they exist. Got it? The rest of you, get out of my sight, catch some sleep, and if you aren’t back at eight o’ sharp, you will live to regret it!”

“But sir!” a newbie protests. “That’s in less than four hours!”

Luckily for everyone involved, another techie manages to drag him out of the room before Fury gets the chance to make an example. Under the man’s baleful, slightly deranged glare, the room is cleared in record time.

* * * * *

.Zach’s B&B.

Tony stares down at the newspapers titled “PURPLE WIZARD ATTACKS NEW YORK” in bold, black letters. He doesn’t know what the most confusing part is: That an official publication uses the word ‘wizard’ seriously, that the date appears to be 02/09/14 or that none of this seems as weird to him as it should be. The picture on the front page shows Captain America in mid-strike and just looking at it makes Tony’s head hurt even more.

It has to be a fake because Captain America went down in WWII, everyone knows that. His father has been searching for the body forever. At the same time though, it looks completely accurate to Tony, even provokes a fond ‘Always has to solve a problem with his fist. Some things just never change,’ somewhere in the back of his mind. Conflicting facts and memories are warring in his head, things he knows to be true and things that can’t be false contradicting each other, pulling him into opposing directions.

For one thing, Tony is ten. He knows he is. Yet his body feels smaller than it should be, imbalanced and just plain off. It’s also 2014, which should freak him out but doesn’t. The technology around him, the fashion, the events, it is all wrong and so awfully familiar at the same time.

Perhaps the oddest part is that Tony isn’t panicking. He isn’t afraid. He isn’t feeling anything at all. It’s like his mind is processing the facts around him, contradicting as they are, but the link to his emotional side is—broken. Cut off. In some way that is perhaps a good thing. It allows Tony to acknowledge with a calm certainty he can’t logically explain that he is misplaced but not out of place. In his time but not.

What is maybe the most frustrating though, is that Tony knows he is aware of the answers to every question his current situation raises, he just can’t seem to access them. They’re right there, lodged in his mind somewhere, yet beyond his reach. And he can’t even seem to feel afraid because of that.

“Fuck.” Tony drops his head into his bandaged hands with a moan. He hates not understanding anything. Especially when it directly involves him.

Unscrewing the cap of the bottle of pain medication Goggle-Guy has produced from who knows where, Tony almost dry-swallows two pills out of habit before he remembers one is more than enough for his current size and weight. He’s not sure what possibility should worry him more, that his body might have been shrunken or that his mind might have been replaced in his younger self. Yet, for some inane, inexplicable reason, he isn’t worried over either of them.

On that note, Tony turns his head towards the darkest corner their cheap but homey motel room has to offer, from where his masked stalker watches him. It’s disconcerting how quickly Tony has gotten used to that sensation. To all of it, really. Even having a man die in front of him doesn’t seem that terrible anymore, now that the shock has faded and Tony has gotten a few hours of sleep.

Jesus, he really makes for a fucked up kid, doesn’t he? Maybe his parents should have sent him to a psychiatrist after all.

Of course, if there had been one thing Howard hadn’t tolerated near his heir, it had been doctors. He’d seen too much of the damage they were capable of, or so Jarvis always says. Complimentary memories of experimentations, trial runs and the mortality rate of the subjects flash in front of Tony’s eyes. They aren’t relevant now though, so he pushes them aside.

“Alright,” Tony addresses his murderous companion, “Care to explain why you and your friends tried to kill me? And why you killed them instead? Is there a bounty on my head? Because that would be cool!”

“No,” the word is muffled by the face mask.

“Oh.” Tony deflates. “What about a name then?”

“The Asset has no name.”

Cue the creepy, robotic voice again.

“Technically I suppose ‘Asset’ could count as a name,” Tony disagrees on principle. Then promptly wrinkles his nose. “Not an acceptable name of course, you’ve got me there. And really, talking about yourself in third person? That’s some wacky disassociation shit you’ve going on there, sweetums.”

So maybe Tony is a bit more comfortable with this complete stranger than he should be.

“Can you at least lose the mask and goggles? Honestly, I can’t believe nobody has called the cops on us yet!” Tony doesn’t remember much of how they’ve gotten to this little bed and breakfast, or how they got a room for that matter, but walking around with a muzzle isn’t what he’d call inconspicuous.

Goggle-Guy doesn’t bother with a verbal answer, simply lifts one hand and pulls first the goggles and then the mask off. Tony blinks at the uncharacteristic—and how would he know that?—compliance.

“Holy shit, you’re hot,” is probably not the appropriate reaction, certainly not from a ten year old kid, but Tony will later maintain that it’s still true. Clear, blue eyes, wild hair, a sharp jawline that could do with a shave. All of which is oddly familiar. In more ways than one.

I know you.

“Okay. Right.” Tony clears his throat, tries to shake off the unsettling feeling of having forgotten something important. Something essential.

He needs more intel.

“Can you get me a phone?” Tony blurts out, half wondering whom he’s supposed to call, the other half clearly remembering the tiny devices with a connection to a world wide web filled with information, if only one knows how to use it.

“Acknowledged,” Dead-Eyes—because that’s what they are, as pretty as they look—responds, thankfully distracting Tony from the mess inside his head for the moment.

He’s gone before Tony has the chance to say anything else.

Weird guy. Ignoring the strain on his aching shoulder, Tony folds his arms on the table and rests his burning forehead on top of them. I missed him.

He wishes those painkillers would kick in already.

* * * * *

Tony doesn’t realise he has nodded off until he opens his eyes to find his cheek pressed against the smooth wood of the table. There is a rectangular plastic case lying next to his right elbow, the only sign of Dead-Eyes’ return. Tony turns around but he needn’t have bothered. As expected, a blank-faced Dead-Eyes has once again resumed his position in the strategically most advantageous corner of the room.

“Thanks for this,” Tony rasps, awkwardly waves the phone around. Then, because his brain is gearing up again and he finally notices the bright pink phone case with the colourful flowers and emoji stickers all over it, “Do I even want to know where you got this from?”

Dead-Eyes doesn’t twitch, much less answer in any other way.

“Why did you get it though?” Tony can’t help but ramble. “Hours ago you pointed a gun at my face, and don’t get me wrong, I think we’ve come a long way. I’m just not sure where the change of heart stems from.”

If possible, Dead-Eyes stands even straighter. “Disobedience is punished,” he states without inflection.

“O-kay,” Tony drawls. “But why obey me?”

“The Asset obeys the handler’s commands,” Dead-Eyes answers mechanically. “Disobedience is punished.”

Tony blinks. “I know you’ve answered the question, but that doesn’t really explain anything, you know that, right?”

He receives no response.

After a long moment, Tony decides this is all he’s going to get from his cooperating, yet strangely uncooperative assistant for now and busies himself with googling his own name instead. Which admittedly yields more results than Tony has expected.

“DEAD OR ALIVE: TONY STARK MISSING,” “The Fate of Iron Man: Defeat or Disappearance?” and “Who Will Save Our Hero?” are among the first headlines to pop up, all of them less than a couple of hours old.

To Tony’s disappointment, they don’t have any new information on the attack he’s found himself in the middle of. There aren’t even any mentions of the men in the black combat gear. Everyone seems focused on that Purple Wizard who apparently initiated the fight. Even the fifteen hurt civilians haven’t earned more than a side note so far.

There are quite a few pictures of the Iron Man suit and Tony Stark though. Well, the forty-something version of Tony Stark at least.

Tony frowns.

So another wannabe villain has attacked the city. That still doesn’t explain why he’s woken up in the middle of a battlefield, without his armour, in a body that appears to be around ten years old. Now that he isn’t so busy staying alive, just looking at his tiny hands is freaking him out a little.

He remembers the odd, purple light balls that had been shot around and the way the air around him crackled when he first came to. Is it possible, Tony wonders, that one of those light balls had hit him and reduced his body to that of a child? But for what purpose? And could something like this even be done? Considering what he’s seen magic do and the fact that his body is a whole lot tinier than it’s supposed to be, he admits with a disgruntled grimace that the conclusion isn’t that unlikely.

Tony hisses when a sharp spike of pain disrupts his thoughts for a moment. Perhaps he is more injured than he has assumed because his headache doesn’t appear to abate and so far, the painkillers have proven to be entirely useless. Or could this be a side-effect of the violet energy?

What has that stuff even done exactly? Has his body been shrunken? Has his younger body been ripped from his time and immersed into this day? But then what has happened with his grown one? And why does his mental state not fit the age of his physical self? The possibilities are endless, and frankly, they don’t ease the building ache behind his temples at all.

Tony curses. This is why he hates magic.

As much as he doesn’t like any of this though, for now, the “how” isn’t all that important. What matters is that it has happened and he is currently in the body of a child, in a cheap motel room with only a hitman for company. He really needs to come up with a plan. Preferably one that involves him as a grown-up again.

To achieve that, Tony is going to need help. The magic sort of help. Unfortunately, the people who have that sort of expertise aren’t just few and far in between; they also aren’t known for being easy to track down. In fact, there is only one whose location is both publicly-known and easily accessible to Tony in his current state.

“Prepare yourself, buddy,” Tony calls out softly and averts his eyes from the screen which is lit so brightly it hurts his eyes. “We’re going to pay the Avengers a little visit.”

* * * * *

.Secret Research Facility.

“What the fuck do you mean you’ve lost the Soldier?!” the commander’s flabbergasted cry sounds from his office, causing all recruits in hearing distance to exchange wary glances.

A moment later, the door his thrown open.

“Rosewell!” The commander yells, incensed.

“Sir?” A rapidly-paling recruit jumps up from his workstation.

“Activate the Soldier’s tracker!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Rosewell stutters, causing the commander to roll his eyes.

“Useless, the lot of you,” he snarls, spittle flying everywhere, and lifts his phone to his lips again. “And you, White, better be back with the Soldier and Stark’s body in six hours or the state isn’t gonna waste money on your retirement!”

With that, the commander slams his phone onto the table hard enough to cause the screen to crack. Then he suddenly stills and turns back with an unholy gleam in his eyes. “Who in here was responsible for the Soldier’s activation phrase?”

A moment of silence passes before a college-aged kid clears their throat. “I-I believe that was Agent White’s job, sir.”

“Knew I should’ve drowned that whelp when I had the chance,” the commander spits and palms his gun with a hateful expression. “Bloody Star Wars fans.”

Sooooo... What do you think?

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god-so-help-me · 4 years

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Does anyone else get those feelings and it's all over your body like "I'm going to punch and kick everyone and everything in a 2 1/3 mile radius" or am I losing my grip.

Like I can feel my muscles tense up just ready to beat the shit out of something.

My mussles: LET ME AT EM'!! LET ME AT EM'!!!!

My rational brain: no. sit and stop being so crotchety.

(I could not find the right word so I googled childish anger and got petulant and then got crotchety)

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lizardbuzz · 6 years

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I spend a lot of time stressing and feeling like a weird little alien who doesnt really Understand People and whos never supposed to be the center of anything and doesn’t get to be their own protagonist and so im just this little alien sidekick in every situation and whenever i start to not feel that way it’s beat down really aggressively??? like I resolved to not make myself feel that way in college and it doesnt work at all

freshman year I thought I was happy andn comfortable with suitemates and I let my guard down and thought I didn’t need to worry about whether I was “really” part of things or not and it all fell apart like really suddenly and idk what to think of that because i dont know when it went wrong like I don’t know what the breaking point is, but at some point I was expected to start assuming I wasn’t wanted and I tried to calm myself down and reassure myself that that wasn’t the case but it was and it was really embarrassing and I don’t know why that was my job when everything before that pointed toward things being fine

a lot of little things happened for a while where something felt safe and secure and I felt like I could just participate in Humanity and then I couldnt?? a lot of things happened that were like... weird moments with a lot of friends and groups of friends (sounds like a lot of people but its the same slowly revolving handful for the last 3+ years) where I suddenly feel like I’m completely optional and unnecessary and everyone’s just waiting for me to fall off and occasionally being passive aggressive and then afterward things aren’t the same and I’m left on read repeatedly, groups hang out when other people suggest things but not me, etc

even connections that are pretty good and Normal just go away. a friendgroup that made me feel secure fell apart, a friend who i felt really close to and comfortable with started being douchey and fell out of the group..those things aren’t really anyone’s fault as far as the “””””ditching””””” me goes, they happen, they just also add to the loneliness.

I dated someone and felt like I could, again, just be Human and have Human Feelings and not worry about ‘belonging’ and being too weird and unwanted and it went to crap really fast and then stayed crap and I just kept returning because I craved that feeling of being Seen unconditionally again

it just feels like no amount of just. trying to talk myself up and to Just Live ever amounts to anything. no matter what, things eventually break, because sooner or later there comes a moment where people expect me to Understand that I’m not wanted...if I don’t Understand it of my own accord, or refuse to because I’m trying not to be anxious and paranoid like everyone keeps saying I should including therapists, everything falls apart messily, because you can’t un-anxiety something that’s true. but if I do Understand I still feel all the same pain, just other people don’t have to see it or know that I feel it.

I don’t understand what I did to deserve this expectation, that I should constantly assume others don’t want me around so that they can avoid making it awkward and actually confronting the fact that they’ve turned against me at a random point? like why am I supposed to just shy out of the way when someone starts feeling negatively about me, why am I supposed to predict what other people feel if they can’t even admit what they feel themselves? why am I responsible for other peoples “smelling the slime” that follows me everywhere apparently but they’re never responsible for how they choose to deal with it.

I don’t understand how I end up in this situation every fucking time and it really sucks that I’m just expected to suck it up and be alone and then when I complain about it people are like “just get out there! meet people! socialize!” but it always fucking falls apart and then I’m left wondering why I try at all. if people are gonna suddenly receive some Arcane Memo about how i’m a slimemonster to be avoided, why should i keep like. trying to be anything else? why would i? it doesnt matter where i go apparently this is “”””news”””” that keeps spreading it doesn’t even matter what I do or who it is. it just continues no matter what and keeps going over and over. can I please just have friends in my life that I never have to doubt things with....I had that my first year with the nerd friends and it was amazing but that whole group drifted apart and nowhere else do I ever get to feel that way without it eventually completely turning around on me.

it seems like things just Happen for other people, as in if they’re friendly people are friendly back and if you’re friendly for a while you’re friends and you get to see those friends and hang out, this seems normal, i dont know why im not allowed to expect that. there are people who go to college together and then stay friends over distances of hundreds and thousands of miles and right now i live in like a 5 mile radius of everyone and its impossible to see most of my friends more than like once a month, and a lot of that ‘once a month’ is really tense and weird, and then the friendship gets less and less active because that’s what happens when you don’t see each other and talk less and less

I guess at this point I’m supposed to be just......fine with the fact that I always do turn out to be the little alien sidekick who doesnt really understand people, who doesnt really deserve to just Feel and be Human and just take life as it comes. it doesnt feel good to feel like a freak it doesnt feel good to always feel like i dont belong and like im not allowed to belong. im not allowed to convince myself i belong even because then people will have to tell me im wrong, and that really sucks for them, because they have real feelings. i dont understand that. i guess im supposed to by now, but no one ever explained this to me and if i ever understand it and explain it to anyone they’ll call me paranoid and say i should just feel less anxious and work on that but what difference does that make if no one will spend time with me and no friendship can last and something always happens to reveal that actually, it was bad for me to feel safe, it’s not allowed not ever

i dont know what i did wrong

i dont know what to do differently because ive been Chill for months at a time before and then was just politely nudged away. or not politely.

ill never be a Real Human and it hurts so much

#real life #lizard goes to college #mental health circus

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dominodebt · 7 years

Text

ding dong duch is back (with original work sorry)

HI okay sorry I know I’ve been very inactive but like, first it was finals and then it was a car accident and now it’s legal stuff (nothing major just part of the car accident thing Duch ain’t going to jail) so I’m just trying to stay on top of everything.

I’ve still been writing but I’ve been on more of an original kick lately than fan stuff (although Blackwatch AU is going up friday so like look forward to that I guess) and I’m trying to put together a portfolio of original work since I already have a portfolio of like, news pieces and journalistic things I’ve done.

Long story short here’s a short little character study (which is ironically about cars and legal trouble) that I wrote to put in such a portfolio and was edited by the lovely @woestar and @ullsumbra. I figured I’d slap it up here just to assure everyone that I’m still here and I still write stuff.

I’ll be back with fan stuff soon don’t fret! Thanks for your patience kids <3

Ophelia sees the ticket—an obnoxious flash of pink against the pitch of her vehicle—and feels her carefully worked down anger spike again.

Fuckin’ peachy.

She strides forward, heels clicking against the concrete as she approaches her—illegally—parked car, chewing on a manicured nail, stewing.

This whole night had been a fucking waste, to be honest. Not even Rose, who was in no way an optimist but rather an exceptionally brutal opportunist, admitted that there was nothing useful in Ophelia’s findings.

And when Rose—who would probably be called a vulture if this whole city didn’t already have her pegged as a viper—says something’s useless, it’s not even good enough to wipe your ass with.

So Ophelia had, in effect, wasted her time, her money, her composure, and a damn good outfit on a useless party that had yielded none of the promised results. And someone had ticketed her Lotus.

Her goddamn Lotus.

She’s pissed, she’s hungry, and she’s not nearly as drunk as she’d like to be.

She’s also—the heiress notes with interest as she reaches the side of her car—being watched.

She knows what it’s like to feel eyes on her, to the point where it’s easier to tell when no one’s looking at her than the opposite. Paparazzi, business partners, criminals, cops, complete strangers—Ophelia draws everyone’s eye for one reason or another. This one wants her fortune, that one wants her dress. Some assess her as a threat, some just see a striking young woman.

The thing, Ophelia’s learned, is when you wear this many masks, you have to be able to don the right one at the right time.

She lets her gaze drift to the polished passenger window of her prized Lotus, taking in the officer who’s lurking behind, watching her closely.

So the question is: what part does she have to play for this cop to leave her the hell alone?

“Evening, Officer,” she greets him, turning around before he can announce himself. She lets some extra sweetness melt into her words, honeying them as best she can when all she can think about is food, alcohol, and the ticket on the hood of her Lotus shoved up this guy’s ass.

The officer freezes mid-step, dark eyes narrowing as he considers her abrupt greeting, before his expression clears and he finishes his movement, standing a healthy distance away, but now bathed in the streetlight they stand beside.

“You saw my reflection in the window,” he notes, and Ophelia has to fight to keep her charming smile.

Oh, a clever cop. Her favorite.

“Actually, I have eyes in the back of my head,” is her smooth response, as she leans back against the body of her prized car, lifting her leg back to hook the stiletto heel on the rim of her front tire and make the edge of her cocktail dress ride up just enough to pique some interest.

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes never straying from her face. Ophelia’s smile strains again.

“I stuck around because I wanted to see who owned the car,” he explains. “Although now that I see who it is, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” A pause. “Your plates are bad.”

Ophelia drops the sweet smile, this time letting a sly smirk play across her lips, changing tactics.

“Trust me, my plates aren’t nearly the baddest thing about me.”

It’s a line so soaked in forced sensuality and false mystique that Ophelia nearly gags on it. She could not be more obvious. It should garner some reaction, at least. She’d welcome a rejection at this point—anything to clue her into what persona she should try next.

Because it’s not as though she can’t pay the ticket. It’s not even that she doesn’t want to pay the ticket. It’s the simple fact that this cop put his hands on her Lotus, and he’s gonna answer for it one way or another.

But as his gaze remains impassive under her alluring stare, Ophelia starts to wonder if she should just cut her losses, flip him off, and call it a night.

“I don’t doubt that,” he replies evenly, and Ophelia’s hands twitch with the desire to crack her fist against that calm fucking face of his. She’s a wealthy heiress, dressed to the nines, openly flirting with him.

She gets it—she’s not everyone’s taste, whatever. But his stoicism in the face of her performance is starting to grate her.

Even if said performance is sloppy and kinda half-assed. She’s hungry, okay?

She shifts gears again, smoothly extricating the heel of her shoe from where she’d hooked it over the rim of her tire and takes a few steps to skirt around the front of her Lotus, letting her fingertips glide over the polished pitch paint.

“So, you said you wanted to see who owned the car.” Ophelia arches an eyebrow at him, off-handedly feeling like one of those models that showcase cars on game shows. The thought makes her cocksure smirk flicker, but she holds it together. God she wants to be unconscious—blackout or asleep, she kinda doesn’t care at this point. “Like what you see?”

To her smug satisfaction, his eyes finally leave her face—only to settle on the body of the Lotus.

Oh, fuck her.

“It’s nice,” he agrees, crossing his arms as his dark eyes scan the car. “I thought they discontinued the Series 1 in in the 90’s.”

His casual classification of such an old, stupidly expensive vehicle—no really, Rose had almost murdered her when it had finally come out how much of her fortune she’d spent on the damn thing—gives Ophelia pause, and there’s an audible falter in her smooth stride as she makes her way around to the driver’s side, still watching him closely.

She half considers dropping the sultry act now just to see how far she can get talking shop with him, but decides against it. She’s too far in to make such a drastic change, and she honestly doesn’t give a shit what he thinks about her car.

She’s tired, irritated, and wants to make this cop eat this fucking ticket.

Quirking an eyebrow when he lifts his gaze back up to hers, she notes he’s watching her just as closely. Though she admits it’s probably because he’s waiting for her to make some kind of move as opposed to any sexual intrigue.

Her eyes sweep over his uniform. The dark navy stands out against his rather fair skin, and she can see a shock of black hair beneath the cap he wears, the bill of it casting a shadow that hides his eyes. His belt contains nothing surprising—Officer Asshole here is not the first or the last cop she’ll see, definitely in her lifetime, probably not even tonight. She searches for something to catch on, but all she ends up looking at is the tarnished SCPD badge pinned slightly crookedly to his chest, and the nameplate fixed beside it.

J. Zharkov

“They did discontinue it,” she murmurs, smoothly picking up their conversational thread as she puts the Lotus between them, gazing at him over the roof. “But some things are too good to let go of, you know?”

She plays her last card—a certain half-smile she couples with lowered lashes and an alluring tilt to her head. She’s honestly found more success in coercing people with the charming look than with flashing her gun.

Although…Ophelia tips her stare down to the window of her car, knowing damn well such a gun is currently resting in the glove box. She could always try that—

“You parked illegally.” The cop’s voice is low and terse—not a glimmer of interest in his dark eyes when Ophelia snaps her gaze back to his. “That ticket’s for two hundred bucks.”

Ophelia’s fingers tense like harpy talons where she’d been skating them aimlessly across the smooth finish of her Lotus as her frisky façade melts away and her expression darkens with anger. Bullshit.

“Fucking Christ man!” Ophelia steps back, no longer draping herself over the car, hands on her hips. “There are like, forty illegally parked cars here!” she waves a dark hand down the street, at the mass of cars all parked exactly like hers. Everyone parks illegally on Scape Street. And granted, her car is easily the most ostentatious, but still.

“Did you give any of them tickets?” She swings her gaze around to the car parked behind her—some Ford model or another, ugly as sin—and her jaw tightens at the distinct lack of a ticket on its windshield.

His lips twitch and she feels her ire rise. Oh, so that got him to smile, huh? Jackass.

“I’ll get around to it,” he offers, shrugging casually in a way that tells Ophelia he will not, in fact, get around to it and she is the only one in a ten-mile radius getting fucked right now. And it isn’t even the good kind of fucked. Jesus.

“You’re an ass,” she tell him shortly. She has two hundred dollars on her person right now easy—but it’s the principle of the thing.

He quirks an eyebrow—the most emotion he’s displayed all night.

“Just trying to do my job, ma’am.” He tips his hat then, and Ophelia wants to punch him square in the throat. “To serve and protect.”

Ophelia chokes down a scoff. She’s not giving him the satisfaction, no fucking way.

“Well, you’re doing a swell job there, rookie,” she drawls back, snapping him a sarcastic salute before leaning across the car to snatch the ticket off her windshield. She locks eyes with him as she does so, pulling on her least-liked mask. The one her parents used to wear.

“Don’t ever touch my car again, okay? I don’t care how many laws it’s breaking. You see this—” she raps a knuckle against the polished pitch-black hood of her Lotus. “—you keep fuckin’ walking. Got it?”

He gazes back at her impassively. “Not sure you really get to make that call, miss,” he answers. His voice doesn’t betray a shred of anxiety. Ophelia’s gaze hardens.

“Yeah? Must be new in town.” She pulls back, making a show of crushing the ticket in her fist while making direct eye contact with him.

She’s still gonna get it settled—mostly because Rose will absolutely eat her alive if she gives local authorities any reason to poke around in their affairs—but for the moment allows herself to smile at the sound of crumpling paper.

“Do some research,” she suggests then. Her Lotus chirps as she unlocks it, pulling the door open and lifting an eyebrow at him as she climbs in. “Talk to some of your cop buddies. Poll the department. Ask them if they think it’s a good idea to pick a fight with a girl driving a car like this.”

Her Lotus is legendary in Saint Cloud—it’s part of her pride, her image. Bad things usually follow its engine’s roar. Everyone knows it—the police department especially.

She tosses the crumpled remains of her ticket into the cupholder and is about to slam the door and rev the engine for all she’s fucking worth when she sees him draw closer to the passenger side window, and her lips pull back in an honest to god snarl when he braces his forearm against the top of it, looking down at her through the tinted glass.

Eyes narrowed, she rolls it down, giving him a flat glare.

“Make it quick, rookie, or you aren’t getting that arm back,” she warns him.

He looks right at her, and Ophelia lifts her chin.

“I’ve lived in this city my whole life, Ms. Lévesque,” he tells her; voice that same timbre as before—as steady and solid as a heartbeat. “I don’t really scare all that easy.”

Ophelia scoffs, rolling her eyes. Dramatic one-liners. Great.

And a local. Even better. She glances at him sideways, trying to place his age, wondering if he’d been around back when her parents ran things.

She eventually decides—with the flippancy of a flipped coin—she doesn’t give a shit, and turns back to the road, turning the key and letting the engine roar to life.

“But you do scare,” she tells him off-handedly, not really caring if he’s listening or not. She throws the car into reverse, glances in her rear-view mirror, resists the urge to slam into the unticketed Ford parked behind her. “Easy or not. Everyone does.”

You can tell me what you think or you can totally ignore? Either way have a good one kids

#Original Work #Original Character #Portfolio Stuff #Ophelia Levesque #Rose de Rege #Not My Circus Not My Monkeys

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