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spacekrulove · 3 years

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Algae

Nobody wants to try Monty’s second batch of algae, especially considering Murphy is still in a coma from the first round. Their rations are just about gone, though, even with Skaikru’s extreme apportioning, and they’ll starve soon. Someone has to test it.

“Well it can’t be Monty,” Raven says, “and it can’t be me either. We’re too important up here to lose to bad algae.” Echo purses her lips. Raven’s full of herself, but she’s not wrong.

“I’m Monty’s hands,” Harper reminds them, wiggling her fingertips. His hands still haven’t quite healed from the radiation burns, so she’s been assisting him with everything.

“And I’ve gotta clean John up,” Emori says. She looks around at the group. “I don’t suppose anyone else wants that job.” It’s an unglamorous task, but it makes Emori nonexpendable. Echo would rather die a violent death than clean up John Murphy’s fluids.

That leaves Echo and Bellamy.

Back when Bellamy had convinced Echo to come to space, he had joked about having someone to throw overboard. Maybe it wasn’t a joke. Echo steels herself, readying herself for a coma or worse.

Instead, Bellamy steps forward and volunteers. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Raven asks, touching his arm. “We need you too, Bellamy.”

She’s not subtle. It’s obvious who she, and everyone else, thinks should be doing this. Still, Bellamy nods.

“I’m sure the second batch’ll be better than the first,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “And besides, Murphy’s still alive.” His lips tug upward. “How bad can it be?”

“Famous last words,” Harper says, bringing over a metal spoon with a small serving of green sludge.

“A true hero,” Emori says, as Harper brings the spoon up to Bellamy’s lips.

Echo catches Bellamy’s eye. “Thank you,” she says, quietly.

Bellamy nods and opens his mouth for Harper. She smiles and makes some reference to an “airplane” as she feeds him with the spoon.

He takes it in, and visibly gags. The colour drains from his face as he struggles to choke it down.

“That good, huh,” Monty says.

Harper hands him a tumbler full of water, which he eagerly takes to chase it down, spilling a bit on his shirt in his haste. He slams the empty cup down and grips the table, white-knuckled.

“Nice work, champ,” Raven says, clapping his shoulder, before concern colours her expression. “You’re looking a little grey there. You gonna hurl?”

Bellamy grimaces. He keeps his mouth shut and seems to focus on breathing. In, out. In, out.

Emori stands by at the ready with a basin. “Well, he’s still breathing, so that’s a good start,” she says.

“Please don’t die,” Monty murmurs.

Bellamy manages a smile. “I’ll be fine, Monty,” he says.

“You’ll let us know if you get worse, right?” Harper asks.

“Right,” Bellamy utters.

After a few more breaths, he seems to get his nausea under control. He waves Emori off and gets to his feet. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s get back to work.”

“I’ll, uh, work on the flavour,” Monty says.

Bellamy huffs out a laugh. “That might be for the best.”

They split up. Echo follows Bellamy to storage room #3, where they’ve been searching for things they can use. She goes back to where she left off, while Bellamy goes to the other end of the room.

She rifles through the crates. Most of it is tech stuff or chemicals, which she doesn’t know anything about—Raven or Monty will have to look through it themselves—but she has found some useful items before, like cloths and towels.

Eventually, after an hour or so of sifting through boxes, she finds several containers labelled “soap”. She’s a little confused, because these containers are filled with liquid, so she calls Bellamy over. “Hey, Bellamy. Come look at this.”

She waits for him to come over, but it takes longer than it should. When he finally rounds the corner, he’s staggering. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face, his dark curls plastered to his forehead.

She frowns. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “What did you find?”

Echo gestures to the “soap” containers.

“That’s great,” he says, though he sounds more exhausted than excited. “We can use this.”

“It’s a liquid,” she says, dumbly.

Bellamy nods. “Yeah. Makes it easier to clean stuff. Like dishes.”

“Oh,” Echo says. “Have you found anything?”

“I don’t think so.” He scrubs his face. “There’s still a lot to go through. I’ll keep looking.”

Echo wonders if she should let the others know that he looks ill—they had asked to be kept informed. She doesn’t want to betray him, though, so she decides against it.

They keep at it for another half-hour, working in silence, until Bellamy leaves for a bathroom break. Echo’s a little worried he might not make it back in one piece—he’s clammy and ghastly pale—so she silently follows him as he stumbles out of the storage room and down the hall.

When he makes it to the bathroom, Echo waits around the corner, hidden from view.

She doesn’t mean to listen, but it’s hard not to hear as he retches, violently emptying what little there is in his stomach. He heaves over and over, far past the point of empty.

She thinks maybe she should go tell the others—it’s clear, now, that he’s been poisoned—but she also doesn’t want to leave him unattended, so she waits for him to finish.

He’s shaky and colourless when he comes out, clinging to the wall for support. Echo wonders if she should offer to help him, but she also doesn’t want him to be upset that she was spying on him, so she decides against it.

He doesn’t head back to the storage room; instead, he goes down the hall toward where the rest of them are staying. Back toward his room—the one he shares with Raven, because there are only four beds between the seven of them, and naturally they chose to stay with each other rather than room with Echo.

Raven, engrossed in reading something on a tablet without looking where she’s going, nearly crashes into him in the hall. “Whoa, sor—“ she cuts herself off when she looks at his face. “Jesus, Bellamy. You look like crap.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“Seriously,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“…I’ve felt better,” he admits, quietly.

She pushes his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and presses her hand to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut.

“Yikes,” she says. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

Bellamy nods, letting her sling his arm across her shoulders for support.

He walks with her for a few paces, and then, without warning, he pitches to the side, taking her down with him.

“Bellamy!” she shrieks.

Bellamy groans. “Sorry,” he manages.

“God, you’re heavy,” she huffs, barely managing to roll out from under him. She cups his cheeks with her hands. “Still with me?”

He nods slightly.

Raven struggles to help him to his feet. Echo takes that as her cue to come out of hiding to lend a hand.

Raven glares at her as she helps to pull Bellamy up. “Have you just been standing there the whole time?”

“Is there a problem?” Echo asks, coolly.

“You could’ve helped him walk,” Raven scoffs. "You could have helped him back here before he collapsed in the hallway."

“He told me he was fine,” Echo says.

In Azgeda, offering to help someone after they said they were fine would be taken as an insult. And besides, even if Bellamy wanted help in his vulnerable state, she doubts he would want it from someone who betrayed him and tried to kill his sister.

“Does he look fine to you?” Raven snaps.

“Raven,” Bellamy says, exhausted.

Raven stands down, but her glare doesn’t fade. "Get him to bed," she orders, reluctantly acknowledging that Echo is better able to support his weight. “Make sure he’s okay. I’ll tell Monty and Harper."

Echo helps him to his room. "She'll warm to you eventually," Bellamy says. "They all will."

"Why do you care?" Echo asks.

"We're stuck here for five years, and we need to work together to survive," he says, his words sluggish. "But also... I know you're a good person. And I think you deserve a second chance."

"I think I used that up when I stabbed your sister and sent her over a cliff," she says.

Bellamy's brow wrinkles, and he looks almost… confused. Did he forget about that? He wobbles, and Echo steadies him.

Eventually, she gets him into the makeshift bedroom, where she deposits him on the stiff mattress. He immediately curls up on his side, barely stifling a groan.

"Are you in pain?" she asks.

“I’m— fine," he grunts, a blatant lie.

"Do you need anything?" she offers, but he shakes his head.

As much as he tries to be friendly with Echo—which she still doesn't quite understand—he doesn't trust her enough to be vulnerable around her. Certainly not the way he was with Raven moments ago. She understands; it makes perfect sense. But it also means she doesn't know what she can do to help, so she just stands silently by his side, a statue, until he falls into a fitful slumber.

He mutters things in his fever dreams, some of which Echo can pick out. Octavia, of course, but also Mom. Gina. Clarke. And, over and over, I am not afraid.

He wakes in a panic, bolting upright as he takes in his surroundings. He takes a few heavy breaths, then leans over and retches. His stomach is empty, but he continues to dry heave, gasping for air in between.

Echo wishes she were a healer. She wishes she had herbs she could give him to settle his stomach. Instead, she stands to the side and wordlessly watches him suffer.

Eventually, he stops and slumps forward. Panting for breath, he looks up at her from beneath sweat-soaked bangs, a string of drool hanging from his lips.

“…Do you need something?” Echo asks.

“Have you— have you seen Octavia?” he asks.

“No,” Echo says. “She’s not here.”

Bellamy swings his shins over the side of the bed and tries to stand. His legs immediately buckle and he crumples to the floor. His arms shake as he pushes himself up to his knees.

“Where are you going?” Echo asks.

“I need to find my sister,” he says. He crawls forward and starts feeling around the floor, scrabbling at the surface as if looking for something. “O?”

“What are you doing?” Echo asks.

“I need to find her,” he says. He digs his fingertips into a shallow groove in the floor and tries to lift. “O, are you down here?”

Echo narrows her eyes. “You think she’s in the floor?”

“Under the floor,” Bellamy corrects, scowling as he tugs uselessly at the metal floor. “I can’t— get it open.”

“She’s not under the floor,” Echo says. “She’s on Earth. In the bunker.”

Bellamy’s face scrunches up as he tries to think. “The bunker…”

“The bunker that protected twelve hundred people from Praimfaya,” Echo says, trying to be patient. “They’ve been there for a few weeks, while we’ve been up here.”

“We?” Bellamy asks.

“You, me, Raven, Harper, Monty, Emori, and Murphy,” Echo says.

Bellamy mouths the names as he reviews them, then frowns. “…What about Clarke?”

Echo is not equipped to handle this. “I need to leave,” she says, and with that, she heads for the door.

"Echo, wait," he pleads, just as she reaches the doorway. She whirls around. He looks so pathetic there on the floor. She supposes she should help him.

She crosses the room and pulls him up, bearing most of his weight as she gets him back into bed.

She makes to leave again, but his hand ensnares her wrist before she can.

"Is there something you need?" she asks.

He releases his grip. "I... uh..."

"You what?" she prompts.

He looks away. "When I'm sick sometimes I have... dreams," he says. The nightmares, he means. "And I just... My sister, she would stay with me, and it always helped."

"Your sister isn't here," Echo says.

Bellamy's eyes sadden."Yeah. I know."

She frowns. "So then..."

Bellamy's gaze flits away again. "You don't have to, obviously, but... can you stay?"

"Yes," she says. "I'll stay."

He shuffles to one side of the bed. “Would you… lie down with me?”

Echo has never lain with anyone she hasn’t had sex with before. She’s never lain with someone outside of the context of espionage. But Bellamy is the only good thing in her entire life right now, the only reason she’s even alive in the first place, and she can’t possibly deny him.

“Like… this?” She lies down, stiff as a board.

Bellamy shifts and snuggles up next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He’s uncomfortably hot and completely drenched in sweat and his breath reeks from vomiting, but Echo stays where she is.

She stays, and as his breathing evens out, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she doesn't mind this at all.

#the 100 #spacekru #echo kom azgeda #bellamy blake #hurt/comfort #(sort of)#'food' poisoning #echo is trying her best

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probably-not-star-lord · 4 years

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More Than a Mission: Part 1 (Steve Rogers x Reader)

A/N: I’m so excited about this series!! Prepare yourself for so much fluff and unexpected smut. Also, I really got super in-depth about the mission for this fic without knowing if any of it sounds even remotely professional. I apologize if it makes zero sense lmao.

Request: Hello, it’s me Stark again😅 I was wondering if you could do an Imagine with Steve Rogers and it’s fluff with the cliche prompt of you both have to share a bed together on a mission cause Tony “accidentally” ordered the “wrong” room for you guys on the trip everyone was going on 💛

Request: Can you write a fanfic about Steve Rogers x reader because I need it, fluff, smut and whatever you want! xx

Summary: Being an Avenger means following through with a mission no matter what the circumstances are. In this case, thanks to Tony Stark, the most ridiculous circumstance of this mission is pretending to be in love with the one and only Captain America. However, is being in love with Steve really just pretend?

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of drinking

Steve Rogers is intoxicating.

Ever since the day you became an Avenger you’ve been addicted to him. You drink in every sip of his kindly attractiveness and his Captain America physique. His muscles nearly rip his shirts to shreds, his piercing blue eyes can make you shudder, and his perfect smile lights up every single room he enters. He’s an adonis. Then, of course, he has this gentlemanly charm that illuminates off of him whenever he speaks and you can never take in enough of his words. A simple interaction will lead to the man living in your thoughts and dreams for hours on end. You push your desires down, so far down that you force yourself to view Steve as nothing more than a colleague, a co-worker, your boss. Yet, no matter how hard you try, he continues to stay on your mind. He’s intruding like that.

However, your relationship with Steve has always been serious, professional. There are rare occasions where the two of you train together, sparring aggressively until he inevitably wins. He pins you down on the mat at the conclusion of each session, staring into your eyes with a dominant gaze and beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. On the unlikely chance that you conquer the Captain during training, you’re the one pinning him to the floor. Your thighs straddle his large frame as you breathe heavily, letting yourself exhale as you accept your victory. Steve’s clear satisfaction with your win causes him to form this sweet smirk of his that makes your head dizzy. It makes working out impossible. This means you often spar with Natasha, who basically taught you everything you know anyway. She is the only person you’ve spoken to about your secret fascination with Steve, so she allows the intrusion of you begging her to spar when Captain America is filling up the gym with his utter perfection.

You try so hard to repress whatever feelings you have for Steve. When he gives orders during missions you almost always do as you’re told, attempting a thought that is anything other than Captain America in his suit commanding you in the bedroom as well as on the battlefield. If you decide to ignore his orders, the two of you will have it out with each other. Steve always remains calm with his words but can lose his temper and raise his tone of force from simply authoritative to echoing with frustration. You never fail to snap back at him, your feelings subsiding and your stubbornness taking control. There is pointing and groaning and getting into each other’s faces with a distinct tension that Natasha likes to label as sexual. You would prefer not to think of it as such.

Steve is your boss, after all, and outside of the sparring or the fighting he is nothing but sweet in a very professional manner. There has never been a hint of romance as far as you can tell, but there tends to be a sort of nervousness that finds Steve when the two of you are together. It boosts your confidence. He greets you every morning in the kitchen of Avenger’s Tower as the two of you drink coffee and eat breakfast with casual small talk. At all of Tony’s parties Steve will compliment you and offer you a drink, spending the night engaging in conversation that could only ever be between two colleagues. It’s always been that way, no matter how badly your heart wants more.

The conference room feels stuffy as your thoughts consume you. It remains a struggle to remove Steve from your brain as he currently sits beside you, arms crossed and eyebrows creased as he listens to Tony. Your dear friend speaks to all of the Avengers in the room about an upcoming mission as you clearly focus elsewhere. Yet, a compelling task with the mention of you and the man in your fantasies quickly draws your attention.

“We have to do what?”

You and Steve speak at the same time, staring dumbfounded at Tony. The idea is crass and in all honesty, it makes you uncomfortable. These concepts are reserved for your daydreams, not a very real mission.

“Come on,” Tony retorts. “All I’m asking is that the two of you pretend to be a couple. Dance. Flirt a little bit. Maybe even hold hands. It’s not that complicated.”

Steve exhales loudly and turns to you. “Y/N, are you comfortable with this?”

“I am if you are, Captain,” you respond, casually shrugging with the effort to emit no sense of shock. Steve looks to the floor and chuckles nervously. Clearly, calling Steve by his authoritative name does things to him. Things that shouldn’t be mentioned in the workplace.

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Tony claps his hands together and makes his way over to the front of the board room, furthering the meeting. “Capsicle will finally thaw out of the ice and learn how to flirt with a girl. Maybe, if we’re lucky, he’ll do more than just flirt with Y/N.”

“Tony,” Steve addresses him in his Captain America voice, a stern look on his face as his hands form fists on top of the conference table. “That isn’t exactly appropriate.”

“Who said it had to be?”

Steve furrows his eyebrows at Tony, knuckles turning white from how hard he is clenching his fists. But, his face is a deep shade of crimson and the whole room can see it. As Tony takes a step back in defense, rolling his eyes and continuing with the plan, you smile to yourself in hopes to relieve Steve’s obvious tension. He laughs quietly, calming his own nerves. It catches your attention and the two of you make eye contact, only for a mere second. The awkwardness of the entire situation forces the both of you to look away.

The meeting with everyone lasts for several hours as Tony explains the threat of the mission. This time, he has all of your attention. There is a group trying to infiltrate large, Manhattan corporations through the computer systems, attempting to steal billions of dollars and any information that could be valuable to shut those businesses down. The leader, Henry Red, used to work for Tony. He was fired for leaking crucial documents. It wasn’t discovered until later that it was on purpose. Red has always had the same plan. He wants to take down Tony and any corporations similar to Stark Industries just so his own business can thrive. Obviously, this includes Stark Industries and quite possibly SHIELD or Avengers Assemble.

Red could have easily been taken down by Tony, Bruce, and maybe even SHIELD agents who are simply just good with technology. But, he isn’t working alone. Tony goes on to disclose to everyone during the meeting that Red is much more powerful than he had previously believed. He has several police officers, detectives, and even agents within Avengers Tower all working for him. These are all people being paid off to remain loyal to him, being very discreet about their private affairs. This means you can’t trust anyone but the people confined within the conference room at this exact moment. Tony warns that his threat is not only public exposure and robbery, but Henry Red is a man who is also willing to kill, as he has done numerous times in the past. Luckily, going undercover, none of you will let that happen.

“So, where are we going, Tony? His evil lair?”

He points at you. “Now is not the time for sarcasm.”

“That’s interesting coming from you,” you acknowledge, earning a laugh from the room. “But, seriously, where the hell are we going?”

“I’m sending Romanaff, Wilson, and Barnes along with you and Cap to an event being thrown by Red himself. It won’t be as extravagant as the parties I throw, of course, but it will be busy, fancy, and crowded. You’ll be overseas and Red has never been up close and personal with any of you, so I’m hoping you’ll be unrecognizable. I want to make it believable that all of you are on Red’s side, not trying to take him down. I’ll also make sure your clothing is taken care of so you can dress up and fit in with the environment.”

“Does that mean I get to wear an expensive dress and high heels?” Tony nods at your question. Your mind fills with images of you dressed up in an elegant gown and heels standing beside Steve in an expensive suit, posing to be his lover. “Will you be paying for all of this?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Who else would be paying for it?”

“When’s this event taking place?” Nat chimes in.

Tony reviews some notes that lay on the conference table. “It looks like Red is throwing the shindig on Saturday night. However, I’m sending all of you ASAP. That way you can get some rest, settle in, and hopefully survey the area.”

“One more question,” you assert. “Will there be booze at this party?”

“Of course,” he responds. “I encourage you and Steve to drink socially, in order to appear like you belong and not draw any attention. But no getting drunk, I need you to be on high alert. I’m looking at you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You brush him off. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her,” Steve assures, sending you a warm smile that makes your heart melt. Of course the golden boy himself makes a gesture of protection. You’re no damsel in distress, even Steve knows that, but having an attractive super soldier by your side can’t be all that bad.

Tony continues devising the plan. He goes on to tell you that Henry Red is currently based in Germany. He likes to hide out, get away from New York. This way he is unsuspected when his goons commit mass murders, killing those who are a threat to his heist. Wherever Henry Red is located, that’s where you and most of the team are being sent. Natasha is the lookout, lurking in places within the event to keep a close eye on any possible threats. Tony debated calling Hawkeye to help Natasha and keep her in check, but he chose to let Clint stay home with his family. Thor would be useful in this situation in case things get out of hand, but he’s currently off world. Bucky and Sam are going to watch the action of the party, posing as bodyguards and checking who goes in and who goes out. This is to keep track of those who are working for Red. Every person under his radar will be sure to make an appearance at this event. No one wants to be around when the hacking and the destroying of the companies is set to take place. That is why Tony decides Bruce and himself will keep a hold on Avengers Tower, locking in the computer system while monitoring the technology of other businesses. But, it all starts at the source. That’s where you and Steve come in.

Tony informs the two of you that you will be the only Avengers not in constant communication with the rest. It is dire for the others to always be reporting updates back to Tony and Bruce, surveying the scene and giving a run down to make sure no one is leaving the event and interrupting the process of protecting the computer system and technology. When Tony and Bruce complete the necessary arrangements to preserve the information at SHIELD, Avengers Assemble, and Stark Industries, they will have to let everyone else know right away. That’s when the cover will be blown so Nat, Bucky, and Sam can take down anyone suspected to be working with Red. Tony says that if you and Steve are always talking into the comms, suspicion will arise and the entire operation could be blown. The goal is to make sure Red is in your sight at all times, and if possible, you have to distract him from checking up on his plan. That should give Tony and Bruce enough time to protect the other systems while also hacking into his. After that is complete, you’ll have to take Red down and turn him over to the custody of the other agents that Tony will send to the event later on.

“We get in. We get Red. We get out,” Steve announces. “Got it.”

Tony sighs. “You are only allowed to get Red and get out of there on my signal. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, Cap and I can handle it,” you inform him, putting him at ease.

“Make sure you’re always watching him,” Tony says seriously. Then a sly grin forms on his lips. “But have a little fun, too. Act like a real couple. Red and everyone else at the party needs to buy it.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a hard act to sell,” Sam blurts, his eyes focusing between you and Steve.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“Nothing.” Sam winks at Steve then nudges Bucky. He chuckles. Steve isn’t amused and neither are you.

“I agree,” Tony admits, ignoring your and Steve’s reactions. “But just in case the two of you pussy out of this, I need your word that you can really sell it. We can’t have all hell break loose just because the old man doesn’t know how to act around Y/N.”

“We’ll do our best, Tony,” Steve affirms, entirely dodging Tony’s insult.

You place a hand delicately on Steve’s arm, feeling him tense up a little under your kind touch. “Please, we’ve totally got this. Right, Captain?”

“Right.”

Part Two: Here

A/N: It’s been so long since I wrote this original fic that I rewrote it with some minor changes. The premise and plot is remaining the same so if you originally read this fic when I first wrote it ages ago and are wondering why I posted a new one, please stick around because I am continuing it after I update the old chapters. I kept the tag lists the same but let me know if you’d like me to update anything with the tags! I hope you all enjoy!

permanent tag list: @lolabean1998 @thisismysecrethappyplace @crazystarlady @gloomybisexualemo @yougottalovefandoms @emilymarie0422

series tag list: @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @buginkt @innerthingstudentblr @a-study-in-letters @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @thecraziestcrayon @rhiannon-the-troublemaker

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missytearex · 4 years

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I can’t believe the first month of 2020 is nearly over. Time flies when you’re reading good fic I guess. Here’s this month’s list. Under 10k fics are under the cut. Remember to leave kudos and comments. 💕

After Dark, After Light by @becomeawendybird --- [fic post]

larry | 71k | explicit

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

If You're Out There (I'll Find You Somehow) by @jacaranda-bloom --- [fic post]

larry | 55k | explicit

Harry looks so intensely into Louis’ eyes it’s as though he’s reaching in and touching his very soul. “I never thought… I never… I’ve been searching for so long, Louis, but I never gave up. I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop trying,” Harry says, bottom lip trembling as he strokes the backs of Louis’ knuckles. “I just knew that if you were out there, I’d find you somehow.”

OR the story of how one man’s love changed the world.

Listen To Your Heart by @chloehl10 --- [fic post]

larry | 35k | explicit

Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.

Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.

Sisterwives by @jaerie --- [fic post]

larry | 32k | explicit

This was it, the moment Louis had been waiting for his entire life. Giddy excitement bubbled up as he held hands and stared up at his soon-to-be alpha and husband and grinned. The ceremony was small and simple, but Louis didn’t mind. Fresh flowers pinned into his hair and a brand new outfit was all he needed to feel special in front of their few witnesses. It was just some members of his family and a few of the church elders in attendance as was customary for any marriage beyond the first wife within the faith.

First wives were the ones to have elaborate weddings with the whole community involved. An alpha’s first wedding was a celebration of an their coming of age, his first steps into fulfilling God’s prophecy. There were many glories for an omega that came with being a first wife but also many responsibilities. Louis had never aspired to be a first wife or even a second. He wasn’t experienced enough to be the leader of an alpha’s many wives and children and he didn’t think he’d be up to the task.

Louis was just fine in the position he was stepping into as the seventh.

Or Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

From the Start by @allwaswell16 --- [fic post]

larry | 32k | explicit

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Access Economics by @bitter-leaf --- [fic post]

nouis | 25k | explicit

When Louis moves to a new city for a new job with a big economics firm, he’s charmed by Niall, his colleague and new housemate. However, when things turn physical and feelings get involved, they find themselves in a risky game of supply and demand.

But Now Together, We're Alone by @becomeawendybird --- [fic post]

larry | 22k | mature

It's a stroke of good luck when Harry Styles, a man who grew up on the small island of Martinique, is offered the position of tutor to the Dauphin and his sister.

When he arrives at the palace, he is dragged into a world of opulence, courtiers, whispers in the shadows, and illicit affairs. But he is also introduced to the king, the most intriguing man he's ever met.

Caught By the Sun by @metal-eye

larry | 19k | mature

Harry and Louis meet every summer at the lake.

Can't Forget You by @writsgrimmyblog --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 13k | explicit

Nick wakes up in hospital and discovers he's lost several years of memories, including getting together—and breaking up—with Louis Tomlinson, the owner of the local café that Nick's being trying to pull for ages.

As he tries to work out what went wrong, Nick falls in love with Louis all over again.

Just Want To Be Loved By You by @londonfoginacup --- [fic post]

larry | 11k | teen and up

Harry loves Liam like a brother. Liam loves Zayn. Zayn comes with Louis. Louis doesn't trust anyone, and Harry is terrified of hybrids.

Weekend Rockstars by @clumsykisses --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 10k | teen and up

Told backwards in time, we see Nick and Louis get married after going through a difficult time, then we see Louis serving time for dealing cocaine, and finally we see how the two met. So it's an angst sandwich.

Strangers In The Night by @kingsofeverything --- [fic post]

larry | 9k | explicit

Louis never thought he’d meet his soulmate. Harry never thought he’d meet a vampire.

To Fall Down At Your Door by @magicalrocketships --- [fic post]

tomlinshaw | 9k | teen and up

Nick has failed to pay attention in any of the meetings leading up to him filming a documentary in the Scottish Highlands, mostly because he's just been dumped and he's in the middle of some very important wallowing. This does not entirely explain what Louis Tomlinson is doing there filming in the Highlands with him, and it absolutely does not explain why the world's press seems to think that they've just got married without telling anyone.

He's fairly certain none of this is actually his fault, but it doesn't change the fact that everything has suddenly got a little bit weird.

if we can make it through december by @march-z5 --- [fic post]

larry | 9k | explicit

Louis runs into his ex at a holiday party, who talks loudly about Louis being single to embarrass him. Harry saves the day by kissing Louis’s cheek and pretending to be his significant other even though Louis has never met him before... has he?

Meet Me Underneath The Mistletoe by @evilovesyou --- [fic post]

larry | 8k | general audiences

Louis flies out to Chicago for business just before Christmas... His flight home is cancelled because of a snow storm and he ends up going to his colleague Niall's Christmas party where he meets the most gorgeous man he's ever seen. And if they end up under the mistletoe within less than an hour then that's nobody's business but theirs.

We're Driving in Your Fast Car by @sadaveniren --- [fic post]

larry | 6k | explicit

Louis and Harry are car thieves about to pull off a million dollar job

lettuce be together by @zarrycats --- [fic post]

ziall | 5k | teen and up

“Do you go because you like the food or because of the sandwich boy?” Harry asks, grinning at Zayn like he already knows the answer.

Zayn takes a bite of his sandwich to avoid answering. He does enjoy the food. He’s always been impartial to sandwiches but they’re growing on him a bit. Subway might not be the moan-inducing establishment that Trevor made it out to be, but it’s good. And Niall working there and being cute and pretty and nice is simply the cherry on top of everything else.

Maybe Zayn does have a crush on him, a little bit, but it’s harmless. It’s not like Zayn’s going to dive across the counter and beg Niall to take him right there next to the shredded lettuce, so what does it matter?

We Had a Good Thing (Going) by @phd-mama --- [fic post]

larry | 4k | teen and up

Sometimes things fall apart.

Sure Feels Good To Love Someone by @loveislarryislove --- [fic post]

larry | 4k | general audiences

“You thinkin’ of adopting today?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, not today I’m afraid,” he says. “We’ve always said we wouldn’t get a dog until-”

He stops, suddenly, clarity hitting him like ice water to the face. They’ve been together for nearly four years now, living together for two. Why shouldn’t “until” become “now”?

“Until?”

Louis shakes his head, looking down at the puppy in his lap. It seems to have curled itself even tighter, but one dark eye is peering up at Louis, soft and warm. His heart pounds.

“Until now, apparently,” he says.

Niall’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Good choice,” he says. “You’re picking the white one, I presume?”

Louis smiles down at the bundle of fur in his lap. “He’s picked me, mostly,” he says. “But I suppose it’s mutual.”

Thank You (To the One Who Let Him Get Away) by @fallinglikethis --- [fic post]

larry | 3k | not rated

Louis' soulmark says "Will You Marry Me?". In all scenarios where Louis has imagined hearing those words, he never could have dreamed it would go like this.

your eyes are like starlight now by @farfromthstars --- [fic post]

ziall | 2k | not rated

drunk friends, a forced christmas duet and one touch is all it takes.

Angel in the Snow by @warpedtourniall --- [fic post]

ziall | 1k | teen and up

For a big city, New York is a small town.

The Stupid Striptease One by @jiksax

gryles | 1k | mature

Harry takes his clothes off and accidentally says the wrong thing.

#fic rec #my recs #my lists #january 2020 #28th appreciation

130 notes · View notes

mightyfineblog · 5 years

Text

Mob!AU Bohemian Rhapsody fan fiction

(Joe, Gwilym, Rami and Ben x Reader)

Summary:You’re just a simple girl, who happens to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. Your life gets a complete turnaround when you are sucked into the mob world of guns, violence, death and no mercy. You have to learn their ways if you want to stay alive, but will that help when you meet the Don? The boss of all mob bosses?

Words: 7k+ Warnings: lots of strong language, mature themes, graphic violence, graphic death, weapons, contraband ; Smut and kinks; some slowburn moments.

Who’s who:

Ben - The Gun

Joe - Mad Joe

Gwilym - The Brains

Rami - Nitro

Manchini - rival gang leader

and you (the reader) of course!

A/n: Please, leave me any kind of feedback if you liked the story. I am grateful for criticism, recommendations, ideas, everything. So you if got something you want to say, or just stop by and say hi. I’m always here for you. <3

Now, to the fanfic, here is one bloody long fanfiction. Enjoy:

“I’m going to need somebody to cover the delivery tonight. Make sure everything runs smooth. Can’t trust ‘em Manchini’s.” Ben took a puff and tapped his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.

“I’ll take it, boss. In a need of some distraction anyway. One Manchini down could do me some good.” Joe stood up energetically from the table.

“Mad Joe.” Ben’s was voice warningly stern.

“Accidental explosions happen...” Joe lifted his arms in the air playfully.

“Just make sure, the shipment is in line.” Ben quirked his left eyebrow.

“Toodles” Joe waved his hand over the shoulder leaving the room.

The rest of the men stood there in silence until they finished their smokes.

“It’s just a lot on his head right now.” Gwilym spoke first.

“He’s doing pretty damn well, considering… well everything.” Rami shook his head.

“Yeah.” Ben nodded with his lips pressed together. “He better get through this sooner than later.”

“It’s been less than a month. Give him some more time. Go easy on him.” Gwilym tried to convince Ben.

“Can’t you see than I am?” Ben muttered through gritted teeth. “Just. Go after him. Make sure he won’t shoot somebody for whatever reason.” Ben exhaled deeply rubbing his eyebrows.

“Alright.” Gwilym agreed and left the room as quickly as possible.

“You look like you need a drink boss.” Rami taped Ben on the shoulder. He nodded in response.

“I’ll meet you down at the club. Need to take care of something first.” Ben lit another cigarette.

Rami left the room, leaving Ben alone on the round table. He sat there staring into the nothing until his smoke was halfway finished. Exhaling a heavy breath he took a few slow steps to the old cabinet.

“That should do it.” He stated, as if he was debating with himself.

Ben took a bottle of a 12 year old MacAllan. He looked at it. But then put it back.

Disposing of another smoke, he took his leather jacket and swiftly put it on. Making his way through the car park, he sat in his car and started the engine.

“We’re all getting revenge for her. Don’t you worry, Joe.” he muttered with his knuckles white on the steering wheel. As he was passing by THE place where less than a month ago they all lost a beloved one to the hand of a rival.

“Took ya long enough.” Rami gave Ben a cheeky smile, as he found himself on the bar with two girls hanging around his neck “The party’s started.”

“I see you’ve been” Ben quirked a brow and checked out the two hot chicks in Rami’s arms “Quite occupied.” he gave him a half smirk.

“This is Cindy and this is Mindy.” Rami pointed one and then the other girl. “So?”

“‘I’m going to get a drink.” Ben tapped his hands on the bar.

“Boss.” Rami slid off the girls and came closer to Ben, who gave him half look without turning his head his direction.

“You alright, boss?” rami put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Come on.” he prompted him.

Ben ticked his tongue and shook his head.

“Come on man. Loosen up a bit. When was the last time you got laid?” Rami’s tipsy figure was far less entertaining than he thought.

“Since when do keep Me in check?” Ben gritted his teeth annoyingly.

“Was just tryna lighten you up. You know. You keep saying Joe is doing bad, but it’s you man. It’s you.” rami waved his finger in the air and left to join the girls.

“Pff.” Ben huffed and took a sip of the whiskey in front of him.

“Guess the old fella gots a point here. Might need to tap something tonight. To get it out of my system.” Ben said to himself. He turned and looked around. The bar was full. Full of pretty women.

Maybe Ben was trying too hard to stay afloat, to keep his tough leader presence, but deep down he knew the accident affected him. It affected him in ways he didn’t want him to.

The urge to avenge his sister’s death was great. It was like a never ending fire burning him from the inside, and every past day was only fueling that fire.

There was nothing else on the back of his mind, in fact he realised it really has been all that time. So unlikely. Ben usually tapped the hottest chicks, and he barely ever repeats them, but one. A dancer in the club, named Gracie. All the other girls were always jealous, because she casually is called up to the boss’s penthouse above the club, which Ben owns as well. In fact, the club is just a masquerade, to cover for his mob work. Everybody knew that. And everybody always kept a close eye on how long she has been to the penthouse. “Don’t be jealous, ladies.” Ben would wink to the rest of the women, when he would return shortly after to the bar.

He finished his drink and snapped his fingers to the bartender, pointing where Gracie was dancing tonight. He nodded as Ben turned around at pressed his lips together, overlooking at her, as she hungrily made her way to him.

“Boss.” she giggled, tracing the collar of his shirt.

“What have I told you about such behaviour in public?!” he grabbed her wrist.

“But, don’t you want me anymore?” She pouted her lips like a slut.

“I do. You’re coming upstairs.” Ben dragged her with him to the elevator.

Less than an hour later Gracie went back to her usual spot, but Ben didn’t follow. Instead, he opted for the balcony. He observed the night sky and the glimmering skyline from the top. The large apartment suddenly seemed so empty and vast. Ben felt so lonely and in this particular moment, not even his usual fuck couldn’t help it. Instead of closing in even more, Ben decided to check on Gwil and Joe and their task.

“Hey boss.”

“Don’t you hey me, how the divelry going on? Any men down?”

“Pff, no. Everything’s under control now.”

“That doesn’t sound much in control. Is that a woman's screams I’m hearing?”

“What? Noo. Yes.”

“Cant fucking trust neither of you. Comin over.”

Ben shut the phone down. It was exactly what he needed. An actual distraction. Work.

He threw on a shirt and headed straight to the underground parking, skipping the bar on the way.

When he got to the docks, Ben was less than surprised to find Joe and Gwilym behind a huge crate.

“What kind of weird, twisted game are you two playin? Why the hell you have a woman, tied up and gagged?” Ben rubbed his temple.

“We can explain it all. Let’s just take her and leave this place, asap. I hear cops.” Joe was frantically in a rush.

“Why the cops are coming? What about the shipment? Did it go through?” Ben muttered.

“It did, everything happened almost according to plan. We gotta get the fuck out.” Gwilym explained. Joe tossed youl over his shoulder and the three men vanished in thin air, as the police sirens were approaching.

“Keep her in the warehouse, you two have some explaining to do.” Ben ordered.

Once they arrived at the warehouse, Joe was quick to shove the girl inside and put her in one of the rooms.

“Looking so hot like this.” He bit his lip, as he examined Gwilym’s handiwork on tying you up with whatever kind of rope was available.

“Let me go!” you spat at his face “At once!” “Sorry dear, but whoever you are, you are now part of something serious. Only boss can decide your faith.” Joe put a strand of hair behind your ear, but you took the change to try biting him.

Joe turned around and locked the room behind him. “Feisty”he thought.

“Listening.” Ben crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“She saw it all.” Gwilym rubbed his forehead.

“Saw what exactly?” Ben rolled his eyes.

“Everything. We saw her when we were covering our tracks.” Joe looked like he admitted defeat.

“We obviously cannot let her go, just like that. She’s going straight to the cops.” Ben put his arms on the table.

“I’ll decide what to do with her tomorrow. Keep her on lockdown for now.” Ben lit a smoke and left.

“Great.” Gwilym waved his hands ironically in the air.

“Oh no man. I ain’t stayin all night watching over some girl. You do.” Joe warningly moved past Gwilym.

“Oh no no. That is on you. You’re staying!.” Gwilym nodded his head.

“You’re the smart one, you think of something. I’m done here for today.” Joe stated.

‘Okay, go. I’ll keep an eye.” Gwilym shooed him out of the room.

For the rest of the night you stayed in that room, tied up and scared. You couldn’t show that of course, because, well you knew exactly what these men were. Gangsters, you realised. You’ve only heard of those in movies. But, you knowledge wasn’t enough for you to know how to get away alive.

First thing the next morning, Gwilym, Rami and Joe were at the round table. They were all looking at each other. The tension could be felt even outside the room.

“Why Is there a woman in my lockdown? Let’s start with that!” Ben barged in and hit the table with his wrist.

“How about you calm down first, okay?” Rami felt irritated by Ben’s tone.

“Don’t you tell me. You were getting laid while all this happened.” Ben pointed at Rami, who uncomfortably shrug in his seat.

“Aight aight.” He crosses his arms and pressed his lips together.

“What is done is done, she’s always seen enough to sell us to the cops.” Joe stood up.

“You know the options, boss.” Gwilym looked up to Ben and slowly shook his head from side to side.

“There’s two way she is leaving this warehouse.” Joe’s voice went low.

“With a fun, or in a coffin.” Ben sighed. “I’ll go talk to her and then I’m putting her down.” He made a quick exist.

“He’s not himself.” Rami put his hands down on the table.

“We all need time, Nitro.” Joe huffed and left too.

“I’m going for a drink.” Gwil quickly left too.

Ben walked into the room where you were locked. You had finally falling asleep from all the exhaustion, so you didn’t hear anybody coming in. Ben walked over the bed and sat on the chair. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and took a minute to gather his thoughts. He looked you up and down from head to toe. “Looks so innocent.” he muttered quietly He cocked his head to the side and quirked an eyebrow. He flicked his tongue over his lips and exhaled. The corner of his lip almost curled into a half smile at the look of your casual short floral dress. It was yellow. It reminded Ben of his sister. She used to wear those all the time.

“Hey. Hey. Wake up.” he reached for your shoulder, making you jump all of a sudden. “Calm down. Gonna need you yo talk.” Ben stood off the chair.

You gulped and rose as much as you could. Your hands were still tied. Ben look from your face to your wrists and back and untied them.

“Aaagh.” you rubbed your wrists together.

“Who are you and what you were doing at the docks last night?” Ben brought his chair closer to you.

“I.I dont know anything. I swear!” You looked at the man’s feet. He was dressed more elegant than the others you already met.

“What did you see?” his voice remained calm.

“N-nothing. I swear to god.” You felt your eyes water at the thought of what they are going to do to you.

“Why don’t you start by, why you were there?” Ben was starting to get irritated.

“Was just, having a walk.”

“Now, tell me, really, why you were there.” Ben crossed his arms in front of his chest, again.

“My boyfriend left me.” you rolled your eyes and looked down.

“Hey.” Ben lifted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. This was the first time, you looked at his face. It looked almost angelic, but tough at the same time. His green eyes, were like the devil. Beautiful, but dangerous. His lips were small but plump and they were bright raspberry color, so inviting, yet so rough.

“Were you abused?” Ben broke the silence.

You shook your head “It wasn’t like that. I ran away…” your eyes fell to the floor once again.

“I see.” Ben stood up and made a few steps around the small room. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.

“The thing is. I cannot let you go. Under no circumstance, you are leaving here, free.”

“I won’t tell anybody, I won’t tell no cops, nobody. Please, just let me leave.” you pleaded.

“You either join my gang, or stay locked in forever.” Ben pointed his index finger in the air.

“You have until tomorrow to decide.” He stated and locked the door behind him.

“We got nothing to loose.” Rami looked optimistic.

“Nitro’s right. With the Manchini situation, this could be a sign. A good sign.” Gwilym was enthusiastic.

“Aye from me.” Joe raised his hand.

“So it’s decided. She might prove useful after all.” Ben agreed.

“And I know just exactly how.” Gwilym waved his finger in the air.

“Listenin’ Brains.” Joe shifted in his seat, adjusting the table.

“I got intel, that Paolo Manchini is going to be at the Rossario this Thursday night, aaand he likes the company of attractive women.” Gwilym’s face formed a wide grin.

“And, I prefer not to risk any of my women with the task, they’re far too valuable to loose in such a pathetic way.” Ben nodded.

“We get her all dressed up, wire her up, and she can do the rest. Easy peasy!” Rami exclaimed.

“Whoa, not so fast, Nitro. Mad Joe, whatcha thinkin?” Ben looked at Joe.

“All in for the idea. We got nothing to loose. She gets shot, not problemo; she does what she’s told and doesn’t get shot, all perfetto.” Joe stated.

“Good. Brains, get the tech ready. Mad Joe, I want to see numbers, and Nitro, make sure she’s not in there, when we blow the place up. I will take care of the rest.” Ben stood from the table.

“Been waiting for this, for god knows how many months now.” Joe cracked his knuckles, while papers were coming out of the printer. “Hello offshore bank accounts.”

“Somebody might even think you have gone mad.” Rain laughed as he passed by Joe.

“Damn right. Look at this baby.” joe handed him one of the papers.

“Sexy.” Rami ticked his tongue.

“Pretty marvellous, isn’t she?” Joe smirked.

“And what are we going to do with this and the rest of your smuggled accounts?” Rami ran his finger over the pile of folders.

“Precaution, of course. It’s all legal.” Joe lifted his arm.

“Why so much this time?” Rami suspiciously lifted one eyebrow.

“Boss wants to make sure.” Joe nodded, obviously he wasn’t allowed to say.

“Alright. Toodles for now.” Rami turned on his heel.

“Bye.” Joe buried himself in his desk again.

“And Joe, don’t got batshit crazy.” Rami knocked on the doorframe before leaving.

“Can’t promise that, mate.” Joe shouted from behind the fortress of paperwork.

“Hey.” Ben entered your room “You ready to talk? Made your choice.”

“Yes.” You seemed to have gained some confidence in the last couple of days being held hostage there, only, nobody was looking for you. Which, kind of made you a permanent hostage.

“Listen, girl. I don’t have all day. Talk.” Ben commanded, almost hurrying to leave.

“You need me, so I heard.” You perked your nose up.

“Huh.” Ben huffed and licked his lips.

“I will help you, but with a few conditions.” You stated.

“Not like you got a choice.” Ben grabbed your wrist, vanishing all confidence from your body.

“You belong to this gang now. You are our hostage. You belong to my men. You...” Ben came extremely close to your face “Belong to me now.”

His bright green eyes were full of darkness and power, lust you might even say. You didn’t know if you were scared or almost aroused by his stern actions.

“Ouch. Let go of me.” You wriggled, trying to free your wrist from his grip. You had to break the, is he going hurt you or kiss you, kind of moment, because the tension was electrical. The seconds between him letting go of you felt like a million years.

“You know why they call me The Gun?” Ben gritted his teeth.

You gulped, but couldn’t dare to speak.

“Because I resolve issues with it. And you seem like quite the trouble right now.” Ben licked his bottom lip and cocked his head to the side.

You batted your eyelashes and pressed your lips together, because you weren’t in the position to object. If you wanted to stay alive of course.

“You’ll be given instructions tonight on what to do during your mission.” Ben turned around and shut

the door behind his back.

“Damn it.” You muttered under your nose.

“She’s trouble, boss.” Gwilym scathed his beard.

“No shit Sherlock!” Ben faked a surprised face.

”No need for that Ben.” Joe walked in.

“What do we need then?” Ben huffed.

“Give her good training, that will break her and I think she may be useful more than once.” Rami suggested.

“Agree with Nitro.” Gwilym chimed in.

“I’ll see what she’s capable of, as soon as tonight.” Ben concluded.

“Uh-uh” Rami squinted his eyes and have Ben a smirk. “Somebody wants a bite of the new snack.” His smirk grew even bigger.

“Fuck up, Nitro.” Ben lifted a brow.

Rami lifted a brow to him as well, as they spoke without words. Real bros in life and crime. They understand each other telepathically. Pfhahaha*Author’s comment*

Later that night, Ben felt restless. He had finished all work for the day, everything was going according to plan. Everybody knew exactly what they were doing, except for. Well, you, who were still in the unknown of your future. Ben walked over to his bedroom balcony, with a glass of scotch in his hand and a smoke in the other.

He looked at the magnificent view from his tower. Then looked closely, he could see everybody in the club downstairs. All those people, who only care about 3 things in life: sex, alcohol and drugs. Oh and money to spend on those three of course, so that makes 4. “How pathetic” he huffed, taking a sip. He then thought of what he has said to the rest of the lads. About testing your capabilities. Since he felt restless, he changed into sweats and shirt and took off to the warehouse, where you were held.

“Hey, hey. You awake?” You heard a soft voice in the dark, coming from the door.

“Who’s there?” You tried to see, but the light from the corridor was blinding the man.

“Guess, I never introduced myself properly. I’m Ben.” He walked over your bed, as you rubbed your adjusting to the light eyes.

“Hi Ben.” you yawned.

“How should I call you?” his voice sounded oddly friendly.

“Don’t matter, you were gonna kill me anyway.” you looked straight into his eyes.

“If you want to stay live, you’d need a nickname anyway. Will figure it out on the move..” Ben blinked at you, which left you quite puzzled.

“Let’s get up. We got so much work to do.” he patted your knee.

“So this is how you hold the gun.” Ben was carefully focused on keeping your hands steady.

“When do I shoot?” You pouted your lips.

“Whoa, take it easy. You got quite the fantasy.” Ben chuckled and it made you blush. Given the distance and position he was in, you could inhale nothing but his scent. So manly and bad, but with hidden caring underneath, which you couldn’t quite figure, yet.

“Focus.” He whispered in your ear.

“I. I am. “ you fixed your position, straightening up your body.

“Your finger goes into the hole. And keep it steady, okay?” He softly spoke. You could swear he was nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“And I pull.” you confidently finished his sentence.

“That’s right.” he held his breath. “Do it. Pull the trigger.”

You moved your focus on the target, aiming for the center and pulled the trigger with force. The power kicked you a step back, but Ben never left your side, so he already was there, expecting you. Waiting to catch you before you fall.

“You can open your eyes now.” He chuckled.

“Phew.” You breathed out “how bad was it?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He took the gun from your shaky hands.

“So I did extremely bad.” Your head fell down.

“Said not to worry. Let’s try again. Here.” He handed you the gun.

You carefully took it. Ben extended his arm over yours and held your hands with his. It felt so unreal , you forgot you were in the devil’s lair.

“Now shoot.” You felt Ben’s lips over your ear, his hot breath gliding over your neck, you felt that electricity once again and gained the confidence to pull the trigger. This time it sounded louder and you jumped back, curling straight into Ben’s arms.

“Whose arms are you going to run into when you have to shoot tomorrow?” Ben chuckled, brushing your arm.

“Huh?” You looked up.

“I won’t be behind you the next time.” He put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I. I have to manage. Somehow.” You licked your lips, staring at his.

Before you knew it, his lips were pressed against yours.

“Sorry.” He stepped back.

“No, I’m sorry, it just- ”

“No, completely, I shouldn’t have.” He shook his head.

“This is so wrong.” your palm aligned with his.

“Very, very wrong.” He muttered before pulling you in for a kiss again.

His hands grabbed your wait and pulled you in his brace, as you stepped up on your toes to reach for him. Your hands wrapped around his neck, as if they were always meant to be, and you kissed him back. His lips felt plump and tasty like cherries, you just wanna bite. He hungrily swiped his tongue between your lips and it was all you needed to let him in. Your tongue glided with his, savouring each other, passionately dancing. You knew this nervous feeling in your stomach was true all this time. It was lust and immediate passion. That’s why you always felt so intimidated by him, at unease. Every contact with him made you nervous, and now it felt like, it all made sense.

“You should be more than ready for the mission tomorrow.” he pulled away from you and grabbed your hand. Bringing you to the room you were locked in, he pushed you in. This time he didn’t lock the door or chain you up or anything. You were practically given a green light to plan an escape.

“Gather your strength for the rest of the night, you gon need it tomorrow.” Ben disappeared, just as fast as he appeared.

“I’ll be damned.” Ben muttered to himself as he poured himself a glass of bourbon from the top shelf in the meeting room.

“Can’t sleep boss?” Gwilym appeared on the doorstep “It’s the girl, isn’t it?” he cocked his head to the side.

“Do you absolutely always have to know everything?” Ben lit a smoke.

“So it is her. Look, I aint no life advisor or expert, but a good bang might you some good. Tap that, you have it.” Gwilym lit a cigarette as well, taking a seat next to Ben.

“No wonder, they call you The Brains.” Ben lift an eyebrow at Gwilym.

“You know the rules, she’s at your disposal to do as you please, but don’t get distracted. Women turn men’s heads into marshmallow. Look at Joe.” Gwil ticked his tongue.

“Sometimes I feel more sorry for him, than I do for me, you know?” Ben took another big gulp “Besides the fact he was screwing my sister, love did fuck him up. And look now, he’s gone completely mad.” he shook his head.

“But you need to get your shit together and avenge her. Love brought men no good.” Gwilym took a long puff and put the smoke away. “Mark my words, boss. Fuck all the women you want, but don’t fall in love. Been down this hoe before, not getting in there again.” Gwilym patted Ben on the shoulder and left.

“You know what are you doing?” Joe fixed a gun on your ribcage, underneath your shirt.

“Hey, easy!.” you pushed his arm away.

“Don’t get handsy” Ben passed by, tapping Joe on the shoulder.

“All set up, you can go to Gwil now.” Joe finished installing all the armor on your body.

You tried to walk normally, adjusting to all the pieces hanging underneath your clothes over the Brains.

“Just to make sure you remember the plan, and nothing goes wrong, we’ll go over it now.” Gwilym put on his eyeglasses and had you sat on a table at the corner of the room.

It was their warehouse, the place where they keep all the machinery, the place where the real business happens. On one corner you could see Joe and his desk full of papers, ashtrays and guns. To the other side was Rami’s corner. His side was the cleanest. He had carefully ordered cabinets with explosives, which looked like trophies. You turned your head to your left and saw Ben. The kiss that happened was bugging you to hell and back, but you had to concentrate on the plan now, if you wanted to stay alive after tonight.

“Fantasia. Fantasia! FANTASIA!” you heard Ben marching towards you.

“That will be your code name now.” Ben looked around to make sure the guys heard him right.

“Fantasia it is.” Gwil shook his head.

“Oh, okay I guess…” you didn’t quite know how to react to that.

The rest of the time you spend observing these men and their work. After all this time you spent there, they didn’t seem to look like they did when you first met them. They were not as scary as before, and you were becoming something more than a hostage. You were becoming part of their gang. “Am i mobster now?” ask yourself, and giggled at the thought of it.

“It’s time.” Ben took your hand in his.

“So soon?” You almost whined.

“You can do this.” Ben looked straight into your eyes and suddenly all hesitation and fear was gone.

“We’ll be right here. We can hear everything, and if things start endangering, you know the signal.” Ben helf your palm in his “Just make sure, you get the information, you are there to collect, and that Manchini has a taste for women.” he gulped at the last word.

“Okay, yes. I’m a woman, I can be a woman, seductive, even… I mean, look at me.” you gestued your body. “All glammed and armed up. Nothing will go wrong.” You nodded your head. “Right?”

“Of course. No go and don’t get killed.” The men assured you.

You walked inside the fancy restaurant and looked around, but could not recognise the man from the pictues.

“He’s not here.” you whispered.

“He’ll come soon. Wait at the bar. Order a dry martini.”

You did exactly as you were told, making your way towards the bar. For split moment, you felt awesome in your high heels, smokey makeup, long silky dress and the gun underneath it. But soon the moment was gone, when you noticed the man entering. As if he knew you, he took a seat next to you.

“Your class is empty senorita. The next drink is on me.” He waved to the bartender.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” You slowly turned to him, uncrossing and then crossing your legs again.

“You can call me however you want, senorita.” he was grinning.

“Ew, that was low, even for him.” you heard Ben in your earpiece.

“What do you do?” You pretended you didn’t hear that.

“I’m a businessman.” He swirled his mustache with his fingers.

“What kind of business is that you do?” you tried your best look less disgusted.

“None of it concerns your pretty head.” he smirked.

You cleared your throat and smiled to the man, continuing the small talk. It didn’t take more than 20 minutes, before he was persuading you go with him. You started to panic, because it never was in the plan to go anywhere with him, and you certainly could not fire a gun at him in the middle of the restaurant with all his men surrounding.

“This is going nowhere. He is taking her to the back room, Gwil.” Ben stared into the security cameras in the van.

“Okay, okay, relax. She’s got guns n everything.” Rami tried to convince him.

“Damn right she does. I’m going in.” Ben was ready to crash the whole thing.

“Hey, hey, hold on. You will not go in!” Joe pushed him back in his seat “You go in now, we blow the whole thing. She gets shot and you too.”

“Fuckign hell.” Ben kracked the knuckles of his hands.

“She has to get any information, but he. Fuck! He knows.” Gwil shout.

“See? Are we going in now?” Ben lifted his arms in the air.

“He hasn’t slipped a word, and they’re walking towards the back entrance! Go.Go.Go.!” Joe pushed everybody out the doors.

Meanwhile, you were about to faint, because the moment was coming. Either you shoot Manchini, or you get shot. He opened the backdoor for you and gestured you to step outside.

“There goes my life.” you murmured under your nose and took a hesitant step outside. You quickly realised there was nobody visible, you it looked like the perfect timing to draw your gun out and point it at Manchini. You didn’t get any information, but according to Gwil’s plan, if things turned south, you had to shoot him. You tried to be as quick as possible, but the gun got stuck and he was already staring at you when you lifted your eyes.

He laughed and then laughed again. You primary instincts told you step back and to run, but you drew the gun out anyways. Pointing it at Manchini, your hands were shaking.

“LAY DOWN!” you heard a scream followed by gunshots. You dropped to the ground and crawled behind a tank nearby.

It all happened so fast. All these shouting men and gunfire around you. You just closed your eyes and hoped it would all end. But it didn’t. It all became muted and shaky, your vision blurred out.

“This. Is for my sister!” Ben hit Manchini on the face with his fist.

“And this is for Joe!” he hit him in the other side.

Manchini spit his blood in Ben’s face “Her pussy smelled nice.”

“I”LL FUCKIN KILL YOUU!!” Joe came over Manchini and pushed Ben to the side. He started hitting him and punching him with all his force. The lust for vengeance had taken over both men, so they kept beating the shit outta him, before Ben took his gun and shot straight at his head.

“She shall rest in peace now.” Joe whispered, as a few burning tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I love you, little sister.” Ben muttered and tapped Joe on his arm.

“Let’s go.” Joe and Ben turned around and made their way to the van.

“Finally!” Gwil sarcastically remarked.

“Now that we’re all avenged and done with Manchini, we have this little problem.” Rami pointed at your unconscious body.

“Is she alive?” Ben lifted a brow, while brushing blood off his face.

“She’s just passed out. Will wake up soon.” Gwil concluded.

“Forgot, you were the doctor.” Rami made a sarcastic remark.

“A plastic surgeon, yes Nitro.” Gwilym calmly answered back.

“Poor thing.” Bet sat on the seat next to you and started examining your state.

Your dress was all dirty and ripped, your face had a few scratches and your hair was messed.

“Still pretty.” Ben muttered.

“You said something, boss?” Rami lifted a brow at Ben.

“Keep driving.” Ben answered.

“We all gotta get cleaned up, and prepare. Manchini’s men won’t hesitate to attack back at us for killing their leader.” Joe stated.

“At least she did help.” Ben looked quite bemused.

“Okay, boss?” Joe patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine, Joe. we did it. We avenged her.” Ben almost sobbed.

“Boss, you and Joe, deserve to take rest of the night off. We can take care of it.” Rami chimed in.

“Intend to.” Ben rubbed his eyes.

“Been forever, since a shower felt as nice.” Ben rested his head against the tiles on the wall. Closing his eyes he let it all pass though his body. Memories started bursting in, from the moment his sister fell dead in his arms, to her funeral. To Joe, his second hand and best friend. Ben felt sad about Joe, he wasn’t always like this. He was always the calm one, the mathematical one. Now he was something more of a monster than human. Ben then remembered when they brought you in. The corner of his mouth curved into half smile. He remembered how idiotically Joe and Gwilym brought you in. He then thought of you. You actually turned braver and tougher to get killed than he thought. “Impressed.” he muttered.

“Impressed by what?” Ben hear a voice, which startled him in place.

“Goddamnit, haven’t you heard of knockin?” Ben angrily turned around “How did you even get in here?”

“The boys let me in.” Gracie started taking her mini dress off.

“Go home.” he shooed her out.

“I can help.” She stepped closer to the shower.

“No need. Not tonight.” Ben passed her and wrapped a towel around his waist. He barged out of the bathroom, passed along his penthouse and went straight into the warehouse. Gracie ran after him. Just on the corridor, she saw you looking at Ben passing by and then at her.

You had just woken up a few moments ago and were looking for Ben and his men. Somehow the whole scene hit you. It hit you hard. You didn’t even know why you felt so intimidated. Was it his wet naked muscular body, or was it the fact that a woman ran after him? You had so many questions. Nothing had happened between you two, you just shared a moment, a kiss. “This meant nothing” you muttered to yourself, while returning back to the room you woke up.

It all felt so strange, you couldn't quote figure were you angry, jealous, or it was just the adrenaline from earlier that night.

“Explanation. NOW!” Ben hit his fist on the table.

“Easy tiger.” Rami spoke first.

“I don’t need no babysitting. Understood? And I certainly don’t need any of you to tell me when I need sex!” He stormed off the room and returned to his flat upstairs.

On the terrace he saw you.

“Needed to get away from everything for a moment. I’ll leave right away. Wouldn’t bother you and your girlfriend.” your turned around and passed by Ben.

“Wait.” he stopped you, grabbing your arm “She’s not my girlfriend.” his words were stone cold.

“Whatever she is, is something to you. And I’m not, so I’ll leave you now.” You tried to pull your arm away from him, but instead he pulled you in.

With one swift move you you were wrapped around his arms, your noses barely touching. You both closed your eyes and felt each other’s heartbeat for a moment, before you lifted yourself on your toes and pressed your lips against his. They felt warm, hot even, like a thousand butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.

“I only want you.” Ben muttered against your lips and pulled away to look in your eyes. You looked back at him. All fear and darkness was gone. His green eyes were vibrant, almost watery. You nodded and kissed him again. This time he kissed you more passionately than before and wrapped his arm around your chest, lifting you easily. Your hands flew to his neck buried in his hair, you tucked on it, when you hear him silently moan against your lips.

Your breathing got heavier when he ran his tongue over your bottom lip, asking for permission. You gladly opened your mouth and let his tongue devour you. Your tongue played in synchronised rhythm with his, like you always knew exactly how to kiss each other. His palm was cupping your chin and cheek, while the other held you tight by your lower back.

Both of you walked backwards until hitting the dining table. Ben flipped you over and pressed you against it. His forehead resting against yours, you both needed to catch a breath.

“I need to have you.” he spoke through his teeth, as if he was restraining himself.

“You’ve got me.” You placed your hand over his cheek and kissed him passionately once again. He didn’t waste much time to hop you on the table and spread your legs apart. Situating himself between your thighs, he kept kissing you. His hands were roaming your back, before sliding one between your bodies. He rubbed your stomach before sliding it up under your shirt to your breasts. His hand rubbed your nipple and grabbed your breast. Meanwhile, his lips moved to the soft skin underneath your chin. His tongue traced your collarbone and licked small kisses on your sternum.

“Ben…” you moaned quietly, letting your head fall back, as both of his hands were now playing with your breasts.

“Where you’ve been all this time…” he murmured pepping kisses all over your chest and in the valley between your breasts.

You let another moan, pushing yourself up in his brace, while one arm kept you stable, and the other tugging on his hair.

“Call me SirBen groaned pushing your skirt up and pressing two fingers against your clit.

“Sir…” You whined, pushing yourself firmer against his fingers just to get more friction where you needed it the most.

He hissed and licked his lips, lowering his head to your neck, he sucked on your sensitive skin, while his fingers were agonsiligly rubbing your core through your knickers.

“P-please, sir.” You whined.

“What do you want?” He dunked his teeth into your neck, but then quickly swiped his tongue over the area.

“Need you.” You breathed out.

“Need me what? You gotta talk to me, Fantasia.” Ben kept the same agonisingly slow movements over your soaking underwear.

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me hard.” You sank your nails into his scalp.

He growled and pulled away from you. With one swift move, the towel around his waist fell to the floor. You couldn’t help but stare at his hard cock and wonder how big it is, that you involuntary were biting your lip.

He stepped between your legs and spread then further again. Cupping your cheeks with his large hands, he kissed you, like the first time.

Your hands automatically slid down between your bodies and reached his rock hard cock. Wrapping gently your finger around the tip, your thumb smeared all the leaking pre cum around. He grunted at your touch and his head onto your shoulder. You slowly dragged your hand along his length, while your other hand kept his head on your shoulder, where his lips were sucking a hickey.

“This is so good.” he grunted against your neck “But you gotta stop of I’ll cum before I can feel you.” he grabbed your hand from his cock and brought it to the side.

“Let’s keep those nice and open.” he made sure your legs were wide apart.

Ben slipped his hand south of your belly and ran his finger between your wet lips.

“You’re glistenin” he softly chuckled, before closing the distance between your bodies with a kiss. His finger rubbed gentle circles on your sensitive clit, until you were trembling for more.

He then put two fingers inside you, instantly curing them upwards, hitting the perfect spot right away.

“Fuck.” you moaned “right there…”

“Hmm.” he grinned widely, before abruptly removing his fingers and situating his cock on your entrance “Ready for me?”

“Yes. Yes!” you eagerly nodded.

Ben pushed all the way in, with one swift move, as you both grunted at the friction, you both were anticipating.

“Fuck. You’re tight.” Ben groaned.

“I think, you’re just too big.” You almost laughed “Fuck me, Sir!” you whined.

“As you wish baby.” he licked his lips and held your legs. Getting a more comfortable, position, he was able to thrust in and out of you with ease.

You were both a grunting, growling mess after a few mintues, you couldn’t take it any more.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. Please Sir, let me come.” you begged.

“Because you asked so nicely and because you were such a good girl, you can come.” he spoke between each breath.

Ben leaned in closer and whispered in your ear “I want you come on my cock, and i want you to squeeze that tight pussy for me.”

It was all you needed to hear to let go. And you did come hard, with a screaming orgasm. Your body quivering, shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. Your cunt kept pulsating, even after the waves of hot and cold washed down.

“My turn.” Ben leaned in, extending his arm over your shoulder to keep himself above you, and cupped your chin with the other. He kissed you passionately while chasing his own orgasm until he released.

“Fuck.” he growled, as he kept thursting, passionately ramming in you, like the world was about to end.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cried out, as a second orgasm rushed in without warning. You squivered and shaked, while he was still kissing you.

After a few more moments he pulled away, as you both were trying to catch your breath.

“Oh my god.” you panted.

“You are amazing. Do you even know the pleasure you gave me?” Ben helped you get off the table.

“Not bad yourself.” you chuckled.

“Come here.” he pulled you in his lap. He brushed your hair behind your ear, as you sat across his thighs. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you let your chin rest on his shoulder.

“Can we go to bed now?” you chuckled “I’m pretty drained.”

“Oh you definitely are staying with me tonight, and the coming nights as well.”

Ben held you in his arms and carried you to the bedroom. Placing like fine glass on the black satin sheets, he observed you.

“Whaat?” you felt shy.

“You are fantastic. My Fantasia.” Ben crawled over and cuddled you in his brace. “You did amazing today. And I don’t just mean the sex. I mean all of it.” he kissed your neck.

“I did?” you softly spoke.

“You were so brave during the mission. And it was your first job as a rightful member of my gang. ”

“Wait. I am in? As in…?” you turned around to look at his face, because you were pretty sure was joking.

“You earned your vote on the table.” he poked gently your nose. “And it wasn’t your sex skills that brought you the promotion.” he sarcastically stated.

“Hey.” you pouted your lips.

“Though it certainly helped.” he kissed your lips.

“Let’s sleep now. We got important things to take care of in the morning.” he snuggled you closer, which was all you needed to drift off to a well deserved sleep.

________

A/n: Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate any kind of feedback, so please feel free to like, comment, reblog, as much as your heart desires.

Also, make sure you check out the posters for the fic in my blog.

#staylovely

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ruleroflimbo-a · 4 years

Text

Shattered Trust || Discord

Events: Illyana confronts Erik after learning the truth about Supergirl’s part in the siege Date: sometime after the siege and creation of Genosha Involved: Illyana Rasputin and Magneto @master-of-magnetism Mentioned: Supergirl @maidenxfmight Trigger warnings: manipulation tw, mind control tw, threats tw, delusional thinking tw, child abuse mention tw Word count: 1,989

ILLYANA: After Illyana had found out the truth about how Magneto managed to get Supergirl to help destroy the bridges she wanted to kill someone, she'd tried to calm down a little before going to see Magneto but she didn't have much success in doing so. As she teleported to Erik, her sword in hand and white energy surrounding her, it wasn't hard to tell she was pissed. Her skin had turned red, her eyes glowing and demon claws in place of her fingers. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out the truth Мудак?" When Illy was drunk or mad her Russian accent sometimes slipped through, she was beyond mad now though, instead of the Russian accent her voice had turned somewhat demonic. It was more Darkchylde's voice than Illyana's at this point.

ERIK: Illyana hadn't been to Genosha since they raised the island, but frankly, that concern had been on the bottom of Erik's list. He had a country to organize, a funeral to plan, countless tasks to throw himself into so he didn't have to think about what was missing.

If Illya had been hurt, Jean or Rogue would've known, undoubtedly, and if she simply didn't care to come back yet? Erik wasn't going to drag her.

So of course she came back in the middle of an evening where he had a mountain of work to be doing. And of course she looked like this, ready to fight--ready to kill.

Ah. Another oversight.

Erik raised his hands slightly as he pushed himself out of his seat, attention flipping solely to Illyana. There was no question what she was talking about.

"I didn't think you were close enough to Supergirl's camp that it'd be a problem when you did," Erik answered slowly, in Russian--something to help calm her, with any luck. "I did what was necessary, Illya."

ILLYANA: Healing Donna had taken a lot of her energy, she'd gone to Limbo after to regain her strength before going to confront Erik and to maybe calm down a little, she'd only really succeeded in the former, which was obvious by her appearance and voice. Erik's words didn't help her anger and she was struggling to hold herself back, to keep in control.

He's not worth losing control over.

"If you knew I was going to find out why bother lying to me and-" she cut herself off as she tried to keep her anger contained. "What, did you just think the demon with only part of a soul wouldn't care?" She managed to keep from raising her voice, it wasn't needed to show how angry she was. Her glowed red when he said he only did what was necessary, one of Darkchylde's traits rather than the white glow Illy's eyes usually had. "How was what you did to Supergirl necessary exactly?"

ERIK: "I didn't lie," he answered, immediately. "I left out a few details, yes, but nothing I told you was false. I needed to make sure that Jean wouldn't find out during the seige. Being that she's a telepath, it was important that no one else knew the whole story."

Oh, for g-d's sake. Erik's lips thinned in annoyance at the accusation, and he barely resisted the urge to snap at her. As if he'd ever thought any less of her for her attachment to Limbo or the state of her soul. "It has nothing to do with you and your soul, Illya. As far as I knew, you didn't have any attachments that would make what happened to Supergirl any more serious than what happened to any of the humans during the siege."

Her appearance and tone were becoming more and more demonic with every word, and Erik watched her carefully, ready to defend himself if need be. "I needed the bridges taken apart while I was at the UN. Lorna didn't have the control to take them all apart quickly enough, and anyone else who could do so was needed elsewhere. I certainly couldn't do it while I was speaking--even my attention can only split so far. Supergirl was a logical choice--it made it look like she was on our side, which was a much-needed boost of credibility, she got the job done quickly, and she'd seemed sympathetic to our cause before. She just needed a nudge. I helped her." There's not a trace of falsehood, in tone or in expression--that he believes the words he's saying is clear as day.

ILLYANA: "Lying by omission is still lying" Belasco had been a fan of that, always leaving out details to make sure Illyana did what he wanted, to manipulate her into being his obedient daughter and apprentice. Erik doing almost the same made her blood boil, making it harder to keep her anger under control. "Telepaths can't read my mind" Jean was the only one Illyana let read her mind but the only one who knew she'd lowered her shields for her was Jean and Katya.

"I don't have any attachment to Supergirl" she really didn't, she'd only met her once as Darkchylde and she was pretty sure she'd tried to kill the girl of steel. "I don't care about who it was, I care about the line you crossed" it was a line Illyana would never cross, not after what Belasco did to her as a child, not after Darkchylde, and she was certainly not going to stand with someone who was willing to cross that line either. "And don't call me Illya, you don't get to call me that anymore."

A small part of Illyana had hoped Erik would be able to ease her anger towards him if she spoke to him, that he showed some sign that he regretted what he'd done, but there was nothing. Out of the two of them it seemed Illyana was the one left with regret, regret that she'd ever trusted Erik, that she'd followed him, helped him with his plans. She should have known better. "I could have taken down the bridges and still gone to Stark Tower" she could have teleported to the bridges, have them destroyed and be back with the others not even a second after she left. "No" she said, almost shouted "you don't get to stand here and justify what you did, if you had convinced Supergirl to help simply by talking to her that's one thing. You crossed a line when you used something that affected her mind" she wanted to scream, she wanted to send him to the darkest hell dimension she could think of. "I can't believe I ever trusted in you, you're no better than Belasco."

ERIK: He wasn't going to sit here and argue semantics with her. If she viewed what he'd said as a lie, she was entitled to her thoughts. Erik knew what lines he would and wouldn't cross for himself. ( Didn't he? ) "What line? The Kryptonite? Why would I not use any resources I can to win? She's not one of us, and I didn't make her do anything she didn't want to do already. She was angry, and burying it. She would've snapped eventually, I simply gave her a nudge at the opportune time. I didn't get into her mind--anything she did, or agreed to do, she did on her own."

It wasn't the same as mind control. Wasn't the same as the notion that had kept him terrified of telepaths for years. He'd given her a nudge, and let her do the rest. She might not like it in the aftermath, but he helped her.

He did.

"What do you want to hear, Illyana?" he snapped at last, thin patience running down to the wire, "If not justification? I did what I did because I believed it was the best course of action, and it worked. I'm not going to apologize for opening her eyes. There's not a person on this island who doesn't know that I will do whatever it takes to make our people safe." Erik lowered his hands, knuckles going white against the tabletop. "We won, Illyana. We sacrificed, but we won. We have a home, now. Supergirl is back to normal, the humans believed she was on our side enough to speed along negotiations, and we won. If you came here expecting an apology for that, I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed. Sometimes war means making difficult choices, and the consequences--" his voice cracked, briefly "--of those rest on my head, not yours. If you truly believe I'm no better than he is, no one will force you to stay here under my leadership. You're quite old enough to make your own decisions."

ILLYANA: Her grip on her sword tightened as red glow from it grew brighter, reflecting Illyana's anger. "There's a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it" her voice was calmer now, if not for the demonic tone to it this could have seemed like a normal conversation. Anyone who knew Illyana would know the calm anger was not a good sign. "If she wouldn't have done what she did without the influence of the Kryptonite then she didn't do it on her own" was he really so delusional or did he simply not care about what he'd done? "Do you even know the guilt that comes with something like this? I do" when she was missing her soul she had done plenty of things she wanted to do but never would have if she hadn't lost her soul and the guilt of that was still with her. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the people she'd hurt, the people she had killed and it wasn't something she'd ever want someone else to go through.

"There is no justification for what you did" she told him, her words cold and detached, she really was beyond anger now and if this went any further she wasn't sure what she would do. "What you did to her would be the same as if you forced me to turn back into Darkchylde, back into a soulless monster" maybe that was one of the reasons she was so angry about this, why this had shattered any trust she had in Erik. He'd proven he was capable of something like this, why should she think he wouldn't do something like that to her if he found a way? She wanted to hurl her sword at him and into his chest, watch the life drain from his eyes... if she had less control she might have done exactly that, but she held back because she still had a soul, even if it was part of it. "You might be worse than him, at least he doesn't have a soul, or the ability to feel guilt" she never thought she'd ever think someone was worse than her adopted father.

"But you're right, Supergirl isn't one of you" she said as she fully changed into her demon form "and neither am I." She was more demon than mutant, she'd never really felt like she fit in with them.

The freak among freaks.

Most of them looked at her with fear in their eyes or hatred, often both, like she was going to turn evil any second. It had only gotten worse since Darkchylde. She could stay on Genosha but she'd feel out of place and she didn't trust Erik, didn't trust herself not to try to kill him if she stuck around. "I won't stay here, I would never follow you after what you did. After you lied to me. I deserved to know the truth, the truth about who and what I was putting my trust in" if she'd known she never would have taken part in this, and now that she knew she had no plans to step foot on Genosha again once she left. "If I ever see you again... you should hope for your sake that I don't."

#discord: shattered trust #manipulation tw #mind control tw #threats tw #child abuse mention tw

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cowboylikehim · 5 years

Text

playing video games- Carl Grimes

Requested: Okay so the song seventeen by Heathers, Carl and the reader have been together since the prison . When they get to Alexandria she makes him choose who he loves more you or Enid, but you were best friend post- apocalypse, then got together in the prison

A/n: so sorry it look forever, i got out of the fandom and only got back in today. hopefully i’ll be writing more

The defining moment of my life happened at the prison. We were still young, feeling an ounce of safety at the compound. Finally having something to hold onto, a home to grip with white knuckles. We met each other not long after the apocalypse started and easily clicked. The security of the prison gifted me with more time to think about trivial things like having a crush on my best friend. I remember stressing to an unreasonable extent. Turns out he was too, but eventually, he stumbled into my cell, after a literal push from Beth, and asked me out.

We were happy. In this kind of world, safety never lasts. Nothing could be dependable. But I always had him to grasp onto. Carl Grimes was the only person that I always had no matter what. Hours spent in fear of the days to come and dangers outside morphed into hours spent enjoying any fragment of childish youth with him. He taught me how to enjoy the silly Polaroids we took. That when put in chronological order paint the picture of our development. Starting off with us, smiling together in his cell to him kissing my cheek the week he asked me out.

We were always there for each other. He patched up all my insecurities and I repay the favor every time. His soft words healed all nightmares surrounding my head. I held all his pinky promises, spoke in quiet and scaring moments, dear to my heart. Nights, where he’d crawl into my bed after terrors and listen to me talk about my day or sing just because he loved the sound of my voice, have been engraved into my mind like fence wires poking and prodding my skin when killing walkers.

I used to be upset that I was the only girl at the prison. Maybe it was because I was his only choice. I spent nights alone wondering if Carl was in love with the idea of being loved and held when he wanted rather than me. Quickly, all questions of how deep his love for me vanished. As soon as we made it official, he treated me in a different way. Carl Grimes, my best friend, was protective. But not in the way my boyfriend was. A single questioning glance sent my way during a run paired with a skeptical tilt of his head to ensure my well being changed into him dropping whatever task was assigned to him in order to wrap me in his warm embrace before looking into my eyes, speaking reassuring words. On runs, he went from always keeping me in his range of sight, as I did with him, to begging me not to go at all.

Alexandria was bitter to us, after seeing the downfall of the prison and all the death that followed. We all had a hard time trusting another supposed beacon of hope. But, with kind smiles and neighbors sharing sugar and sweets at dinner, I learned to trust these people. Carl took much longer, he resented the fact that they could be ignorant of what was going on. Carl didn’t understand that while he had to be an adult out there, he could finally let his hair down and play video games like a normal teenager. It took a lot of convincing but eventually, he picked up the controller and lost countless rounds of Mario Kart to Ron.

We made friends, but no one could compare to each other for us. We both grew close to Enid; She was amazing. She was a sweet girl who was tough and knew what it was like past these walls. We’d all go out into a clearing in the woods and Enid and I would draw, write or talk as Carl tried to get us to go on some dangerous adventure. I trusted Carl and I trusted Enid. And when I stepped up to help around the group more I didn’t mind that they would go outside the walls together.

With time things changed. He had that look in his eyes. I saw it when he looked at me at the prison after Beth tried to point it out a million times. I can’t blame Enid. I also played the role as the hopeless girl pining after her best friend. Granted, at the time he didn’t have a girlfriend. I have seen the charm he presents and the way his boyish smile and laugh brighten up a room firsthand.

I truly love him. I’ve spent too many sleepless nights overthinking every interaction the two have while Carl sleeps peacefully next to me. Every day I feel him drift further away and I pretend that I don’t realize. At a certain point, I wonder if I am the problem or if it was only a matter of time.

“What?”

“Do you love me?” My voice wavered as I repeated the question.

“Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?” He seemed shocked with a hint of agitation.

“You love Enid.” I tried to keep my voice strong as my hands shook with nerves. “I- I see the way you look at her. Maybe you’re not in love with her but you’re getting there. You look at her like you look at me. When she holds Judith you have this- this glint in your eyes and this smile. You love her.”

He didn’t talk. Just stared at me.

“Carl, I can’t be with you if-”

“You thought to have this conversation at 3 in the morning?” He ran a hand through his hair, “I love you. You’ve been there since the beginning. You know that.”

“You never answered my question. Do you love her?” I don’t know why I was so determined, I’ve been scared of the answer for so many late nights. “I love you and I just want you to be happy, Carl. But I can’t do this if I’m the only thing keeping you from her.”

“I- uh. I don’t know.” He turned away, facing the bright lamplight. “Enid reminds me of the way things were before. She isn’t attached to this place, she can’t get hurt when everything falls apart. I guess I kinda admire that. But I don’t love her, maybe just a fascination but that's it. Promise.”

“Carl, You don’t have to be guarded all the time. You are a teenager, you’re allowed to act like one! Stop trying to be tough all the time. You think you’re protecting yourself but you are only pushing people away and you know it!” I went to get out of bed, going anywhere but here but he grabbed my arm.

“Please don’t go. I can’t- I can’t do this without my best friend. I love you so much.” He sounded desperate, his jaw locked in place as he tried to keep tears down. “I’m scared of getting hurt again. I’ve got too much to lose. Please don’t leave, honey. I’m so sorry.”

I stood in front of him and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m not going to keep coming back, Carl. I won’t do that to myself. When you feel bad, you have to talk to me. I love you so much but I miss the guy who’d read comics and make stupid jokes. You act like the world is on your shoulders. And it was. But now you can let go. I just want to be a kid with you.”

He gripped tightly onto the fabric on the back of my T-shirt. “I’ll try, I promise.”

I smiled, “That’s all I ask.”

He moved his head, looking up at me. “Come back to bed?”

“Of course.”

Getting back into the blankets, he turned off the lamp and gave me a kiss goodnight. Resting my head on his chest, my heart finally started calming down from the events prior.

We were happy again.

#carl grimes #the walking dead carl #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes oneshot #the walking dead carl grimes #twd carl #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine #The Walking Dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead headcanons #carl grimes headcanon #carl x reader #the walking dead carl grimes imagines #carl grimes angst #the walking dead angst

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, ALEXEI! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENEDICK. Admin Rosey: Alexei, you have no idea how happy we have to have another beloved Montague, Benedick, join our ranks! It’s a difficult thing, capturing the nuances of a character within a single application -- laying out their past, present and future in a way that gives each of us a glimpse into your plans for them without revealing it all. But you managed to do it, and very successfuly too. We are so very excited that you have captured Benedick so well and we cannot wait for him to bless our dashes! I, personally, can’t wait to see what type of trouble him and tragedy you have planned for him. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alexei/Sasha

Age | 23

Pronouns | They/Them

Activity Level | I’m not really sure how to rate it on a scale of 1-10, but I’m confident that I can do 4+ replies a week and be reasonably active in a group chat. My active hours would probably be sporadically in a group chat from about 9am-2pm, and then I could be working on replies nights from 8-11pm EST. My job/general schedule has pretty steady hours.

Timezone | EST (GMT-5)

How did you find the rp? | I told Victoria I was still indie roleplaying and she showed me this ring.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Sorry!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Battiasta Tahan - Benedick

What drew you to this character? | In Much Ado About Nothing, Benedick is written as a sarcastic actor-type, always performing to keep the crowd (and his closest friends) guessing, never showing his true face. According to Battista’s bio, he’s mostly like that in his early life, but I thought it would be interesting to explore how this kind of behavior bleeds into the more serious, quiet attitude that seems to come with more experience, more hardship, and more trauma. Is the “new” him the real one, or is it just another mask worn to ingratiate himself with those around him? I find myself drawn to him because I love to look underneath the underneath, to seek out the bare bones motivations behind people’s actions and let them spin their stories as they will.

Battista is a man that’s made many mistakes and has a lot of regrets — though maybe less than we’d think. His story is compelling, and I look forward to doing the deep dive, turning over the rocks to find the soft damp dirt beneath. I want him to have some satisfaction, and I want him to grow into someone capable of being a good friend, if not a good person.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Team Making or Team Breaking—

Battista knows how important it is to trust your team. Just like in the military, knowing that they have your back can be the difference between holding back just a second too long and ending up with a bullet to the skull, and trusting them to watch over you enough to do what you need to do. But how is a trio composed of a control freak, a wild card, and a walking dead woman supposed to function? It’s not an area suited for his silver tongue— these people need a solid leader, dependable and strong, not someone that charms them and runs when he gets what he wants. He doesn’t want to give up, but bad blood and hard feelings pin him on one side, and a completely unreadable mystery on the other. Is it possible that he can win them over, or will his white-knuckled grip on the reins just end up bloodying all of their mouths?

Explosive Personality—

It’s nothing personal, except when it is. Whether Battista dislikes him on principle, or out of jealousy, something about Everett Craven drives him up a wall. It would take a push for him to resort to outright premeditated murder, and he wouldn’t do it to an emissary without permission, keeping in mind the delicate position it could put the already at war families in. But, well. He certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. As for the murder weapon— what better way to win a war than with guerilla tactics? Battista isn’t an explosives expert by any means, but he knows his way around something so simple as a booby trap car bomb. With a car as well-loved as Everett’s, it’s a no-brainer to use something ignition-based as a method of assassination, as it’s almost guaranteed that he’ll be the only one caught in the blast. Almost.

Be It Spark, Inferno, Or Nothing But Ash—

No man is an island, no matter how much Battista would like to pretend that’s the case for him. With every bullet in the bodies he drops, every hit he takes, he can’t help but wonder just what it was that Genevieve Zhang saw in him the fateful night he prostrated himself before the Montague leadership that made her speak for him. He doesn’t feel it’s his place to outright ask, not yet anyway. He’s unsure if he even wants to know the truth of it.

Her opinion shouldn’t matter to him. He tells himself it doesn’t, that he’s a grown man, confident in his abilities and his place in the world. Still, the possibilities keep him up at night.

You Killed My Father, Prepare To Die—

It seems a distant dream, with all that’s happened. Nearly fifteen years since the cold December night his mother called him, incomprehensible and weeping. Since he had to go down to the morgue with her and try to identify the bloated, dirty corpse the police had pulled from the river. Someone had murdered him, cut him up so badly they could only confirm it was him by the distinctive tattoo on his left shoulder, and the scar from his ACL surgery.

They’d known it was the Capulets, sure. That’s what got him into this goddamn mess in the first place, though it helped that he knew they were hypocrites, ‘men of the people’ his shapely ass. But he knows it had to be one person to shred his face to ribbons, to strike the final blow. And he knows someone had to okay the kill order. He’s kept an ear to the ground, but it’s hard to hear anything about a nobody that was killed over a decade ago. Still, there’s the tiniest spark of hope. Some day, someone will slip. If they’re still alive, they’ll brag about killing Battista Tahan’s father, and when they do…

They won’t make it to hell in one piece.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Well, Yeah. Empty Revenge isn’t a whole lot to live for.

IN DEPTH

What is your favorite place in Verona?

An odd sort of smile lingered at the corners of his lips in the aftermath of such a question, like he was unsure of whether it was allowed. He shrugged just the left shoulder, palm raised to the sky dismissively like you had asked him how his day was going, how his mother was— how was it ever, yeah? What did it matter, where his favorite place was? It couldn’t hurt to share, but still the answer seemed ripped from him. “The Arena.” One corner of his mouth turned further, expression shifting into something akin to bemusement, and his hand turned down to mime writing. “I like to sit in the shadow of it during the heat of the day, and try to draw.” A grimace, and then a laugh to follow. “Emphasis on ‘try’. But it’s loud, full of people going about their business. Good to people watch.” It was a far sight better than sitting on his thumbs in his empty, silent apartment, anyway. It was nice to pretend that someday he’d be able to draw more than a single line, or write more than a sparse sentence.

What does your typical day look like?

“Still can’t help but wake up at six,” the comment came off-hand, a huffed laugh out of a wide mouth quirked into something like a chagrined smile. “Drink coffee, work out. Usually sleep for another hour or so after that, if I can.” He rubbed the back of his neck, tough fingers cold against his own skin — a grounding gesture. “Outside of that, I don’t have much of a routine.” Routines make you complacent, after all. A dangerous thing to be, especially when you’re predictable as well. “I try to show my face at the usual haunts, let people know I’m alive and well. Check in on the ducklings, see what they’re up to. Do odd jobs for my landlady— she thinks I’m some fucked-up vet, guess she’s not far off.” He laughed outright at that, something biting creeping into the single bark. Silence reigned. “I try to keep my head down, unless asked otherwise. But I do like to party.” A last wry twist of his lips. “My only vice.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

His throat clicked in protest against the single dry swallow he managed — his only reply for a while. The question didn’t make him flinch, which he considered a victory. Shoulders remained straight, the line of them loose and his fingers very deliberately uncurled. Look upon him and see how unbothered he was. “Leaving my mother when I did—” Battista’s eyebrows furrowed, and he cut himself off. Softly, he continued, “no. It’s not even that, she would have wasted away with or without me there to watch.” Funny thing, that. He was glad he didn’t have to watch. “I guess it was… when I was young, I was never around. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but at least I would have known them. I was so caught up in my own. Shit, in my own faux-glamorous life, that they didn’t know me and I didn’t know them, at the end.” He shook his head, a soft huff of humorless laughter escaping. “They were the only family I ever had, no aunts or uncles or grandparents. And I don’t know a damn thing about either of them— I don’t even know if they loved each other.”

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

“I’m good at everything.” The response was immediate, dismissive— he didn’t even lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. In the silence that followed, his brows furrowed, as he pretended to think about it further. “Well, except baking. Not very patient, you see.” The mask is near perfect, but the truth of it is this— it seems like nothing is ever easy, anymore.

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Battista blinked, surprised to be asked such a question. “How do I feel about any endless war? It’s pointless and painful, and it’s getting good people killed.” The answer seemed so simple, said aloud like that. It made him grimace. “Reductive, sure. Do I wish death on every hypocritical man-of-the-people Capulet? No. Maybe more than a few, but not all. I know the Montagues aren’t saints either, singularly or as a whole.” A sardonic laugh. “And I know if it had been me that was murdered, or if it had been Daly or Rosso, King, Ivarsson — we wouldn’t have gone to war over something so destructive as pride.” His gaze grew distant for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. The remainder of his little speech is little more than a murmur: “but I follow orders, and I keep my mouth shut, and these are the things that matter.”

In-Character Para Sample: TW; descriptive injury, death, gore

The firefight started at 0243 in the streets of a decrepit, abandoned town with crumbling buildings and dusty roads. They were on patrol with some locals— him, Rossi, the snipers they called Rana and Rospo, and a few others scattered among the buildings. Rossi was pink-cheeked and bright, sighing out great clouds of crystalline breath in the cold moonlight from the cloudless sky, making bad jokes about being a dragon. Their lack of quality couldn’t keep the small grin from Tahan’s face, something half-cocked and tucked into his collar. Rospo had asked if he’d ever seen snow with something close to incredulity in his tone, about as much expression as they’d ever seen from the man, and Rossi’s wide-eyed reply was punched out of him before he’d even had a chance to get the first word out, a fine red mist splattering onto Tahan’s face.

Then they heard the shot.

It spurred their loose formation into action as they leaped to cover and following the trajectory of the bullet to its source. The night erupted into sound, the sharp rapport of an AK-47 in a window off to the left. Their squad returned fire, and Tahan fell into a crouch and darted the two feet separating him from Rossi, gripped the straps of his gear, and dragged him into a doorway behind a grim Rana and one of the trainees, Allaiwal. He crouched over the man and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat when he saw the damage — glassy brown eyes, no breath, an entry wound an inch under his jaw and an exit wound gaping where his brain stem should have been. He’d seen worse. He had to tell himself that to get his lungs to pull in some air, and when he licked his lips to try and wet his mouth, he could taste blood. He nearly gagged on it, but he still had a job to do.

The firefight was over before it really began. A half dozen men firing on a lone window could only miss so many times in five seconds, and when the night quieted Tahan let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He carefully ran his hand over Rossi’s eyes to close them, a smear of blood left behind over a slack face. Grit his teeth, gripped his rifle. The night rang with shouted commands, suggestions, curses, and his voice cut through it all in short, barked out commands. Fan out, check for any more surprises— Rana, call for a CASEVAC, Allaiwal, you’re with me. The slighter man shadowed him with a silent nod, and everyone else jumped to their assignments.

Tahan led them to the squat building with his rifle ready, grip steady. Focused. The initial screech of the hinges on the door made him cringe, but as they stepped over the threshold and into the dark, the house remained silent. Blood was smeared on the windowsill, on the ground. Bullet holes riddled the wall behind them, and the room smelled like gunsmoke, like unwashed bodies lying in wait, like death.

But there was no body.

They exchanged glances, Tahan’s flat, Allaiwal’s a little nervous. They didn’t speak, but as he stalked back into the night after the scattered blood trail, Allaiwal followed. Their footsteps made no sound in the streets, two hunters on the prowl under the pale moonlight, and the sounds of their team clearing the buildings behind them faded into the distance. They were breaking protocol. Nobody called them back.

The specks of blood led them out of town. His body was steady, his eyes focused, even as his head felt fizzy and light, pulse pounding somewhere high in his throat and his heart stuttering away somewhere in his chest. The wind picked up away from the shelter of the cluster of solid buildings, cutting against the skin of his cheeks, his nose, his neck. The blood led them on, great globs of clotting and widespread speckling among the scattered stones and dry dirt. The gore on his face, the bits of Rossi that still clung to his skin were drying into flakes, gumming his eyelashes and glueing his mouth shut. He breathed through his nose, though for the first time in his life the smell of copper was making his stomach roll. The trail led on, into the dark. It dried up, and he circled to look for the trail, as Allaiwal kept eyes on the ridges, looking for movement, for an ambush. Something howled in the distance. He picked up the trail fifty meters from the last spot, just as he was starting to lose something he didn’t dare call hope. They pressed on.

They found the man half by accident when Tahan nearly tumbled into the ravine that had put an end to him. Allaiwal gripped his sleeve and saved his life, roughly jerking him back and putting his feet on solid ground. The near-miss set his heart pounding once more, choking him. He stared down at the corpse as they clutched each other’s shoulders, unable to tear his eyes away from the twisted form, the broken bones, and the gaping wound in the nameless stranger’s shoulder that would have put an end to him sooner rather than later, if the fall hadn’t. He swallowed hard, and tried to feel something. Satisfaction, disgust. He couldn’t. Allaiwal must have seen something on his face, because he stuttered something out. Tahan couldn’t understand him for a moment, blinked uselessly, realised— he was speaking english.

“ — Sorry?”

“I said —” he swallowed hard, as the whites of his eyes seemingly took up all of his face. “Do not worry, someone will come to bury him. We should go.”

The percussive sound of a chopper echoed faintly through the valley, and he turned his gaze up to the ridge above them. There, on the edge: a lone rider on horseback, a black shape silhouetted by the moon. He raised his hand in greeting, and Allaiwal made a nervous sound behind him. The rider raised their hand back, and then turned and disappeared from view, and silence reigned, and so he thought about Rossi, being sent home to his mother in a heavy box. He thought about standing on her doorstep in Taranto with an apology on his lips and heaviness in his weary heart. It pressed on his chest, and he turned his gaze back to the corpse in the ravine, bile in his throat at the futility of a single man shooting at a six man cell, of dying alone. What was the fucking point of it all?

Worry? I wouldn’t say worried.

It was the first clear thought he had since dragging a corpse into a cold, empty house an hour ago, and so Tahan didn’t say anything. He shrugged one shoulder, turned his back on the cooling body, and followed a similarly silent Allaiwal back to the remains of their squad in that tiny, forgotten town.

EXTRAS

Sample blog | https://cuorepietoso.tumblr.com/

Some headcanons | He has kept a journal since he was small, scribbled words about his thoughts, messy sketches of the things he’s seen—used to love spending hours drawing people, animals, plants, items that caught his eye, and writing. Since he’s come back to Verona, he can’t seem to put a pen to paper anymore. Perhaps he should try photography? \ He’s a Capricorn sun, Scorpio moon and ascending, so at the surface he seems fundamentally responsible, serious, efficient, and rational, but deep down he’s repressed, dramatic, and cunning as hell. \ His role in the Col Moschin was Incursor-specialized Combat Medic, meaning he was good at getting into places and good at keeping things inside people where they belong. \ He’s nearing six feet and a buck seventy.

Pinterest board | https://pin.it/3vvntdclvgej3i

Spotify playlist | https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vJ07jCsvhHWU5NtsxxSLE

Preliminary notes/research | https://docs.google.com/document/d/1l4m0F-m0FdHLUNBlWTnw-hugOSu4GbC1uZbPg9VFV6c/edit?usp=sharing

#accepted #accepted: benedick

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likethetailofacomet · 5 years

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Plain and Simple

Claire’s birthday surprise for Drake is FINALLY HERE! Thank you all for hanging in through the last few stressful chapters. I promise this one will be fun, and Claire does too, so if you can’t trust me, trust her. That girl is super trustworthy.

it occured to me that i should be including my word counts because sometimes i’m wordy AF. this one is : 3,216

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlessly-searching-for-you @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @mind-reader1 @drakewalkerrosenberg @nekkidmolerat @gardeningourmet @indiacater @natalievgoodehenry @jovialyouthmusic @notoriouscs @akrenich @cordoniantrash @the-whiskeywife @endlesshero1122 @the-everlasting-dream @endlesstaylormckenzie @roonarific

Tunes for Drake and Claire- Darkest Shade of Blue- Young The Giant

I'm here with you When your hands are shaking I'm here with you And your heart is racing I'm here with you In the darkest shade of blue

You're not alone Anymore

Claire, Hana and Maxwell busied themselves that morning with plans and decorations and keeping Claire’s mind far from the headlines and photos and fear and anxiety. She’d given Dan a call after Drake and Bastien left for the hospital, and as always hearing his voice had helped. He’d of course been upset and unsettled to hear what had happened at Applewood Manor, but ultimately was relieved to hear that Drake had been able to step in when he did and that Claire hadn’t suffered worse. Claire wished that he was there to give her one of his brotherly hugs, but she felt it just the same when he said, “love you, stinker,” as they hung up.

Looking around the small sitting room that Claire had requested they be allowed to use to celebrate Drake’s birthday, she smiled to herself as she took in the hand painted banner that she and Hana made, hanging from one side of the double window to the other, reading “Happy Birthday Drake”, the makeshift bar that Maxwell was setting up, laden with four or five different types of whiskeys-whatever they could find throughout the estate, and the blue and white balloons that they’d blown up, littering the floor. She sighed and touched the little heart charm around her neck, wishing that she could do more for the man she loved on his birthday, but as she and the rest of the suitors were under strict orders not to leave the estate grounds, it would have to do. She thought of the whiskey bar back home that she and Dan would go to for one another’s birthdays and do shots of whiskey until they were drunk enough to sing karaoke like it should be sung- poorly and embarrassingly. Their favorite bartender, V, she liked to be called, would laugh and clap and have two more shots waiting for them as they stepped down from the stage. If things were normal, that’s what she’d want to do with Drake. But things were far from normal, so this would have to do.

“This is perfect,” she said, turning to Max and Hana with a smile.

“Well, I don’t know about perfect, Claire,” Maxwell started, and Claire knew that it was killing him to call this a perfect party. She shot him a look and he quickly corrected, “but I mean yeah, Drake will love it!”

Hana came up behind her and gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “It is perfect, Claire. He’ll love it.” She came around and hugged her. “Have you heard from him, do you know if they’re on their way back yet?”

Claire bit her lip, shaking her head, eyes falling to the ground. “No…I haven’t heard yet…”

Hana realized that she’d been trying not to think about it. “Then we have plenty of time for me to do your makeup and hair and have a girl’s day…just like you taught me.” She offered her the kind of warm, comforting smile that was so quintessentially Hana, and Claire felt herself relax as she let Hana lead her by the hand to her room, where they did exactly as Hana said until Claire got a text from Drake saying that he’d be back shortly.

Bastien parked the car in the Palace garage and walked with Drake back through the hallways towards the guest rooms. They hadn’t said anything since they’d left the lake, but both felt much more comfortable with the silence now than before. When they reached the hall that Drake’s room was on, they saw Claire standing outside of his door. Bastien turned to Drake and brushed off his shoulder. “There’s your reason, Drake. Remember that.” He patted the shoulder he’d just brushed off, softening his steely gray eyes before nodding and heading off to Liam’s study to see about the security reports he’d been waiting on. Drake took a deep breath before continuing down the hallway towards Claire, towards his reason for everything. He’d thought about Bastien’s words for the duration of the car ride, about how he’d been focusing on anger and hatred and judgement, letting himself be directed by rage and violence. It wasn’t who he was, wasn’t who he wanted to be for Claire, and Bastien knew that. Of course he did. Bastien always knew.

She’d covered most of her bruises with makeup and changed into a light blue dress that hung off of her shoulders and fit snugly around her waist before falling loosely in a bell shape around her knees. Beautiful wasn’t enough, Drake thought, as his love for her multiplied with every step that he took towards her, and he vowed over again not to forget what Bastien had told him; not to let his anger get anywhere near her. “Hey, you,” she said softly as he closed the distance to stand directly before her. She reached for him, wrapping him in her arms and placing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart, which skipped dizzyingly. “I’m so glad you’re back.” She smiled up at him, and he couldn't help but think of how nice it would feel to hear her say that without the constant threat and fear that they were slaves to right now; how nice it would feel to hear her say that when he comes in from work, or from a trip, or just from the market; how nice it would feel to come home to her every day.

“Me too,” he said, lips finding hers as he pulled her body flush against his own.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said, cheeks flooding with color and eyes bright as she pulled back to look up at him. Despite everything, she looked so happy, and it made Drake’s heart swell even more, made Bastien’s words matter even more.

“I can’t wait,” he said, taking her hand in his and rubbing his thumb slowly over her knuckles. His casted hand hung heavily at his side, a reminder of the weight of what he needed to say. “But can we talk first?” He saw the worried look flash across her eyes at those words and he brought her hand to his lips. “Nothing bad, I promise…I just,” he sighed, dropping her hand to reach past her for the doorknob. “I have some things to say. Let’s go inside.” He took her hand again and led her into his room, closing the door behind them.

“Drake, I-“

He silenced her with a kiss, soft and delicate, the kind that slowly sucked the air from both of their lungs and spread warmth through both of their chests, like a flint spark. He was still holding her hand, and he squeezed it gently as he ended the kiss- a difficult task, but a necessary one. “Claire,” he breathed, his lips still pressed to hers, “please let me say this.” He felt her nod, heard the little exhale of breath as she agreed to let him say his piece. She crossed the room to take a seat on the couch, and he followed her, choosing to sit in the arm chair directly to the right of the couch. He needed to look her in the eye when he spoke, and knew that sitting so close to her would only result in their entanglement.

He rested his cast on his knee and saw her eyes flick down to it before returning to meet his, reaffirming that this needed to happen. “Claire,” he started, his voice clearer and more even than he thought it might be. “I’m so, so sorry for how I acted this morning. Punching that wall…feeling that way...letting my anger control me…” he paused, shook his head while keeping his eyes on hers. “You needed me to be better than that. I need to be better than that, for you.” Claire sat back against the cushion of the couch as he continued. “You are what matters most to me, Claire Berkley. As long as I have you, nothing else matters nearly as much. But this morning? This morning I let my...hate for Alex come before my love for you.” He raised his hand and snorted a puff of air through his nose. “This. This was so stupid of me. You don't deserve this, Berkley. I want to be the man you deserve. I want to love you like you deserve, support and protect you like you deserve. Not like this. Not like an angry child. Keeping you safe from Alex is important to me, Claire, it is. And if I had to...” he sighed. “If I had to, I'd kill him. In a heartbeat, to save you. Keeping you safe is important. But keeping you, holding you, loving you- that's more important. And maybe not this time. Maybe not the next time. But eventually, I know you'd grow tired of this,” he lifted his hand again. “Of holes in the wall and stitches and hospital visits.” She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it and swallowed whatever words she thought she might speak. “Claire,” he went on, and she reached across the space between them to twine her fingers with his-not his good hand, his broken one, where they stuck out from the top of the cast. “I promise you, I'll never let it control me like that again. I promise you. Protecting you is the only reason I'll ever have again for...for violence,” he cringed on the word, but that was what it was. “My father...he was a good man, Claire. It hurts me that you'll never get to meet him...he would love you, I just know it,” a distant smile drew its way across his lips and then shrunk again. “But he didn't raise me to be like this...Bastien...he reminded me of that. He reminded me that my father wanted better than that for me...for you...can...can you forgive me? For not being what you needed this morning?”

Claire let out the breath she'd been holding as he spoke. Seeing the way he'd reacted that morning hadn't necessarily scared her, but she admittedly didn't like seeing Drake that way. It reminded her of her first night in Cordonia, when he'd been so sure that she was here for Liam that he'd been rough and rude and angry and not at all like the warm, loving man that she'd learned him to be. Her eyes searched his and found them empty of anger, hate and rage, found them full of sincerity and apology and love. She looked down at their fingers, curled around the fiberglass edges of his clunky gray cast, and admittedly never wanted to see him need bandages and stitches and trips to the hospital ever again. She thought about how insistent he'd been in making sure that she heard him, understood him, and admittedly, she didn't think she'd ever known such an honest, genuine man. “Of course I forgive you, Drake. Gra Go Deo, Adelfi Psychi, remember?” She disentangled her fingers from his. “I don't want you to feel that way either. That's not you. I love you for the man that you are, Drake Walker. Be that man, and I'll love you forever.”

“Berkley...” he stood, pulling her up with him, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. “I love you,” he said. “Plain and simple.”

She gave him the same smile she gave him the first night they'd met, the one that pulled her cheeks so far up into her eyes that they nearly closed and fully displayed her crooked teeth. It was the smile he already knew she couldn't replicate unless she was actually happy, and it was the smile set his heart on fire. “I know you do,” she said softly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “Now,” she laid her finger on his nose and it made the fire in his heart burn a little brighter. “That surprise I was telling you about.” She smoothed her dress down self-consciously. “It's not much, but,” she shrugged. “I wanted to show you what celebrating a birthday looks like to me. So. Follow me.” She spun around and looked over her shoulder at him, and the way that smile was still written all over her face made him sure for the thousandth time that he wanted to make her happy for the rest of his life. He wanted to see that smile, over that shoulder, for the rest of his life. She crossed the room and exited, Drake at her heels.

“Where are we going, Berkley?” he asked through his own smile.

“To a party, of course, birthday boy.” She wrinkled her nose when she said “birthday boy” and it was one hundred percent the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

“A...party? But we can't leave the grounds?” he asked quizzically, before reminding himself that this was Claire Berkley, and that thinking inside the box with her was a fool's errand.

“Who said anything about leaving?” She gave him a playful little smirk, full of mischief and he had to stop himself from grabbing her right there in the hallway and kissing her senseless. She walked a few more paces until they were outside of a small sitting room. “Surprise, Drake,” she said sweetly, opening the door to reveal the impromptu party, Max and Hana and even Liam shouting a surprise to echo hers.

Drake looked around the room before him at the decorations and the balloons, the makeshift bar, and most importantly, the people she'd filled the room with. The people that mattered most to him, the people who he mattered to. He turned to her, that smile was back, and he couldn't keep the fire in his heart from growing as he bent down to kiss her, leaning his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he said before giving her another tiny peck. “Thank you, Berkley.” He turned to his friends and thanked them as well.

Liam of course couldn't stay, stating that he had security meetings and briefings to attend, and Drake was sure that he did. “Have fun tonight, Drake,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading out, and Drake was sure he would; turning back to Claire, he saw how impossible it would be not to enjoy himself tonight, even with everything that was going on. In this room it was just him and the woman he loves and the friends that supported them and that was enough to shut the door on reality, just for a while.

Maxwell wasted no time at all in starting the music and pouring drinks, passing them out to each of them so they could clink them together to toast to Drake. Not used to being the center of even this much attention, he smiled sheepishly, letting his roguish hair fall into his eyes. Claire reached up with her fingers to brush it back and he caught her palm and kissed it.

“Hey, you two,” Maxwell threw a balloon at Drake’s head. “Kissy stuff on your own time. We’re having a party here!”

Claire giggled. “Well, Max, when you’re right, you’re right.”

Max poured another round of shots, downed his and looked at Claire. “Is it time now?” he asked, practically bouncing up and down, making Claire laugh even more.

“Time for what? What’s he on about, Berkley?” Drake asked, cautiously sipping his own drink.

“Remember how I said I wanted to show you how I celebrate birthdays?” Drake nodded and Claire turned to Max who excitedly stooped below the bar and pulled out a microphone and his phone. “I celebrate birthdays by taking shots and making a fool of myself singing karaoke.”

“You…you sing, Claire?” He asked, perplexed. She’d mentioned hobbies and talents, things she liked to do with her free time or to ease stress or for fun, but she hadn’t mentioned singing.

She laughed again, throwing her shot back. “Not well.” She shrugged. “Max, you want to kick it off?”

“Thought you’d never ask, Claire!” He excitedly queued up a song on his karaoke app and soon his voice was belting out Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” to Hana’s entertainment. She giggled, wide eyed as she watched Max’s (probably) choreographed dance moves.

Claire looked over at Drake, at the dumbfounded but happy look on his face. “This is how you do birthdays, huh? You singing next?”

Claire looked up at Max, still shaking and telling the truth with his hips. “Yeah, but I’m going to need one more of these first,” she picked her glass up and swirled it around before finishing it and heading to the bar table for a fresh one. She poured one for Drake too, brought it to him and clinked her glass to his. “Cheers, baby.” She kissed him on the cheek, threw her shot back, and got up just as Max was ending his song to wild applause from Hana. One drink had made her his biggest fan.

“Okay,” Claire said, and Drake could see the whiskey in her eyes. “For you,” she pointed at Drake. “Hit it Max!” And with that she treated them all to her out of tune, missing words, making up words as she went version of Lady Gaga’s “You and I”, keeping eye contact with Drake the whole time.

When she finished, Drake gave her a standing ovation, nearly in tears from laughing and smiling. What a 360 this day has taken, he thought, scooping her up as she passed the mic to Hana. “Why that song, siren of mine?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Becausssse,” she laughed. “Its about you,” she booped him on the nose. “And I,” she booped herself, harder than she meant to, “annnnd meeting in a bar. Annnd it’s fun annnnd I like it.” She was drunk and it was the first time he’d seen her drunk and it was infectiously endearing. “Did you like it?”

He looked at her, looked around the room. This was absolutely the furthest thing from his mind when he woke up. He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in years, and the last time he had it hadn’t been anything like this. But Claire was like nothing he’d ever had in his life, so that was no surprise. “I loved it,” he said.

Hana’s voice was coming from the background like a Disney princess and Claire scrunched her nose up, spinning in Drake’s arms. “Hana!” she shouted, “You’re not supposed to be good at karaoke!” Drake burst out laughing and so did the rest of them and they finished out their night of revelry, Hana and Max eventually clearing out leaving Drake and Claire alone in the sitting room, the banner hanging off the window, balloons strewn all over the ground, on the couches and tables from where they’d been thrown. She hiked her dress up so she could curl up into his lap, leaning into his chest. “Happy Birthday,” she said once more, through a yawn.

He buried his face in her hair, stroking his fingertips over her bare shoulder. “Thank you, Claire. It’s been the happiest one yet.”

“Even with everything?” she asked, eyes closed and voice thick with sleep.

“Even with everything.” He affirmed. Because she was his everything.

#drake x mc #drake x claire #drake walker #claire berkley #walker and berkley #trr au #trr #the royal romance #learning to love again #plain and simple #happy birthday drake #the royal romance fanfiction #playchoices fanfiction #pause the murder train for claireaoke

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romancereadingdiva · 5 years

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A Sticky Situation by Missy Johnson

I have read several books in this Awkward Love series & enjoyed them! My review for this one will be posted soon. But here is the blurb, buy links, excerpt & cover...

RELEASE BLITZ Title: A Sticky Situation Series: Awkward Love #7 Author: Missy Johnson Genre: Rock Star Romance Release Date: March 14, 2019 BLURB A sexy rock star walking into your hotel room? It sounds like a dream come true. When you’re in the middle of some serious self-pleasure like I was It’s a freaking nightmare. It gets worse. What I thought was my hotel room…was actually his. I’d just given last year’s hottest new talent a performance worthy of my own Grammy. Now everyone is talking about the girl who got her rocks off in Brix Wilson’s hotel room. Nobody knows I’m that girl and it’s going to stay that way. It’s not like I’m going to run into him again, right? Wrong. GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41545852-a-sticky-situation PURCHASE LINKS US: http://1click.bz/AStickySituationAMZNUS UK: http://1click.bz/AStickySituationAMZNUK CA: http://1click.bz/AStickySituationAMZNCA AU: http://1click.bz/AStickySituationAMZNAU Free in Kindle Unlimited

EXCERPT Panicked, I sit up, gaping in disbelief at the person standing in the doorway. I grasp at the sheet, I frantically try to cover the most crucial bits of me, while feeling completely mortified. He, on the other hand, can’t wipe that damn smirk off his face. What the fuck? His head cocks sideways and his lips twitch into an even bigger grin that I’d probably find sexy—if I wasn’t two knuckles deep and showing him more of me than any guy has seen of me in a long time. “Well, I have to say,” he drawls in a low, husky voice, “women do a lot of shit to try to get my attention, but this is definitely up there as the most original.” I can’t even comprehend what he’s saying, because I’m frozen on the spot and trying to work out what the hell he’s doing in my room. Is this some kind of sick joke? Is he planning on attacking me? My eyes dart to the phone on the wall, but they switch back to him when he walks closer. Fuck. He steps out of the shadows, giving me a better look at his face and— Double fuck. What the heck is the lead singer of The Vision doing in my hotel room? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so my body decides to do both. I can’t think straight, but I’m doing my best to stop freaking the fuck out so I can try to figure a way out of this mess. I’m so unbelievably embarrassed. And naked, apart from this flimsy sheet. I should probably get dressed. The problem is, doing anything at this point feels impossible. “So, do you speak?” he asks, jolting me out of my thoughts. “I mean, we’ve established that you can moan quite well.” Oh God. “I had a friend once, who was mute,” he muses, “we drifted apart because our conversations were always very one-sided.” “I am not mute,” I snap, glaring at him. “Great, then you can start by telling me what you’re doing.” He laughs and rubs his jaw. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious what you were doing, I’m just not sure why. Not that I didn’t appreciate the show,” he quickly adds. “Trust me, I did.” His dark eyes flash with amusement. “It’s refreshing to meet a girl who doesn’t mind opening herself up.” What the ever loving fuck…? How can he casually crack jokes like he isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about walking in on me? I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just glare at him. “Can I get you anything, like a drink?” he offers. “Or maybe offer you a hand…?” “You could offer me some privacy?” I suggest, my body shaking with rage. “Privacy, huh?” He grins at me. “Sure. I’ll turn around.” He’ll turn around? “Or you could leave, the same way you came in?” I retort. “You seem pretty agitated over there. I’m guessing I interrupted the finale? Have you thought about trying some relaxation breathing?” he suggests, “it’s supposed to be great for relieving tension.” “Are you done?” I growl. “Are you?” he asks. “Maybe you should be the one leaving?” A surge of anger hits me. Why the hell should I be the one to leave when he’s the one in my room? I wrestle myself up so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my knuckles white from clinging onto the sheet so tightly. While I’m at it, why am I the one who’s embarrassed? If I can’t get myself off in the privacy of my own room— I stop, mid-thought as I look around, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach. The clothes scattered outside the bathroom. The freaking guitar leaning against the couch that I somehow neglected to notice. The champagne. The note…there was no upgrade. I’m the one in the wrong room. And I was seconds from climaxing all over Brix Wilson’s bed. My heart pounds as a trickle of sweat makes it’s way down the back of my neck. I swat it away, while trying hard to think up an excuse for being in his room that sounds even half plausible. Who am I kidding? There’s no getting out of this. Not without me looking like a complete fuckwit. Sure, they gave me the wrong key, which makes this whole mess not my fault, but as if he’s going to believe that. I take a deep breath and reach for my clothes, somehow managing to dress myself while showing minimal skin. Not that he hasn’t seen everything already. God, he’s seen more of my than I have. I stand up, nearly losing my balance. My legs feel like jelly, so even walking feels like a hard task, but I have to get out of here. And the longer I wait, the harder escaping is going to be. “I have to go,” I mumble. “So soon? You went to all this trouble of getting in here and performing for me, and now you’re leaving? Where’s the harm in hanging around for a little longer?” he presses. “I was looking forward to seeing how far you’d go.” I stalk over to the door, avoiding all physical contact with him. He can’t wipe the smirk off his face, but I can’t let myself think too hard about what just happened, or I’ll lose control. As I close the door behind me, I hear his voice call out after me; “What, I don’t even get an encore?”

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ahumanfemale · 7 years

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Snipe Hunting

Summary: Donna goes on a hunt with Dean. Dean has ulterior motives.

Author: (A)HumanFemale

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings: None

Chapter One: Cursed Objects

“So, explain to me again what I'm doing here?” Donna asked as he parked Baby off the side of the road, hoping to get as close to his previous tire tracks as possible so Donna didn’t notice them.

“Cursed object,” Dean answered, killing the engine and pocketing his keys. “We’re going to hunt for it.”

“And Sam didn't want to come?”

“Sam wouldn't be able to do anything,” he replied as he reached for the door handle, “It's got a certain set of requirements.”

She swallowed and followed him out of the car. “I don't like the sound of that one bit. It sounds like you’re going to throw me into a volcano.”

“No volcanos, I promise. It just has a thing for hot blondes.”

She balked, leaning against the side of the car. “What? That’s it?”

“Yup. I wouldn’t be able to see it - that’s why I need you.”

“I thought you needed me because you had a thing for hot blondes,” she teased, stepping close. Dean grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt he’d loaned her for the hunt and pulled her close, stealing a quick kiss. Her wavy hair was loose and his fingers itched to run through it.

“I have a thing for one hot blonde. Especially in those tight jeans and my shirt,” he answered and Donna’s skin flushed, from the tips of her ears to her toes. He had long since memorized everywhere that blush would have shown up but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to rediscover it at the earliest opportunity. Maybe once this was over, if everything went like he wanted it to.

Winding up with Donna had been hard going - it turned out the two of them never did anything easily. It was a lot of wasted time, agonizing over who didn’t deserve who and who deserved a normal life without the other one in it. Dean was an emotional trainwreck and Donna was a burned divorcee not really looking to repeat the experience. But God, when he touched her. When he touched her none of that mattered because she was so goddamn gorgeous and happy and she made him feel like all the nasty shit that’s happened to him the last few years didn’t matter as much as he thought it did.

In the end, Donna drew her line in the sand. She was going to love him whether he liked it or not, was going to want him no matter what he thought of himself, and he could either get on board or learn to keep his hands to himself.

Getting on board was the smartest decision he’d ever made.

“Aren’t you going to open the trunk?” Donna asked him once he stepped away and headed to the mouth of the forest a few feet away.

“No, why?”

“We’re not taking a weapon?”

“We don’t need one,” he answered and saw the reluctance on her face. He sighed, turning back to her. “Donna, would you feel better with a weapon?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“Alright,” he said, opening Baby’s trunk. He didn’t want to argue or she’d figure it out. He watched her eyes glance over her options, lingering just a little too long on the grenade launcher. Barely suppressing a grin, he nodded in approval when she picked an old wooden baseball bat.

“Good choice,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t hit me with it.”

She winked up at him. “Don’t sass me and I won’t have to.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They took off at a leisurely pace as they worked their way into the forest, following the path for the moment. The sun was setting behind them, throwing golden light over everything around them. Fall was in full swing, letting a chill loose in the air that had him pulling his coat a little tighter around his shoulders. He was suddenly happy he’d insisted on Donna bundling up before they’d left. And If she happened to be warmer in one of his sweatshirts, so be it. He had a possessive streak that reveled in the visual reminder that she was his.

After a few minutes, they veered from the path. Dean had mapped their course out almost exactly, telling her that he had an idea where the object was hidden but needed her help finding it once they got there.

Donna swung her leg over a fallen tree. “Is there some reason we have to do this now? It’s getting dark.”

“Witching hour,” Dean said by way of explanation.

“Isn’t that the middle of the night?”

“Not for this witch.”

She shot him a skeptical glance. “If you say so.”

Donna was too trusting of him, Dean decided with a half smile. If they ever had to tangle with a shifter again she was toast. He trudged through the woods, ever so slightly behind her. The leaves had finally turned colors and hit the ground, making a carpet on the forest floor in varying shades of red and gold. Perfectly as planned, if a bit late. Fall had taken for-frigging-ever to get there, meaning he’d had to put off this hunt way longer than he’d originally planned.

“So, how’s work?” he asked as they walked. “That new deputy still giving you hell?”

“Nah, I’ve just about got him under control,” she answered, swinging the baseball bat distractedly at her side. “He’s just gotta make peace with the fact that I’m the head ‘B’ in charge.”

Dean laughed. “I feel like a head ‘B’ in charge would actually say the word.”

“Not this one.” She bumped his shoulder with her own. “Don’t make fun of me. It’s not my fault I never had a rebellious stage.”

“Says the woman trouncing through the woods with a felon and a baseball bat.”

She stepped out in front of him, swinging the bat up to rest on her shoulder. “You worried, handsome?”

“Of you with a weapon? Every damn day. I’ve seen the way you look at my grenade launcher.”

“It’s the exactly same way I look at you,” she told him, standing on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his chin. “Like I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”

She was making it very difficult to stay on task.

“Come on,” he said, turning her shoulders back around setting her walking again. “I’ll be happy to discuss that further once we’ve taken care of this.”

“Funsucker,” she teased but let herself be guided.

His spot came up earlier than he was expecting. He'd barely gotten the nerve to go through with it, but now Donna was looking straight ahead and gripping the bat a little harder, until her knuckles turned white.

“Dean?” she asked over her shoulder. “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?”

“What?” he replied, playing dumb.

“The tree.”

“What about it?”

“It's glowing.”

“Huh,” he deadpanned. “I told you only a hot blonde could see it.”

Donna stepped forward, bringing the bat up. The hole in the wide oak tree was lit up from the inside, resulting in the glow Donna noticed. Dean had accomplished it by lining the space with little LED candles he found at the dollar store but she didn't know that. She thought it was magic and treated it like a hunter would - a potential threat. It made him proud to see her suspicion. Only an idiot with a death wish would go rooting around in a tree for a cursed object without a second thought. But his Donna was smart and tough, so she might end up smashing it to bits before she ever realized what it was.

“Is it going to give me boils if I touch it?” she asked, doing her best to get an eye on it from afar.

“Not that I know of,” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “See if you can grab it.”

Dean rocked back on his heels, nerves getting the best of him while he watched her approach the object. The sun continued to lower itself toward the horizon as she picked up a scrap of lacy white fabric - part of a tablecloth he’d liberated from storage in the bunker. Her fingers brushed the object under the cloth and his blood pressure hit the roof. God, what had given him this stupid idea? Why hadn’t Sam and Jody stopped him? They sucked. They were getting a piece of his mind when he got back.

“It’s some kind of box,” she said and he could hear the confusion in her voice. Her grip on the bat tightened again. He suspected that she’d knock the box into space if it so much as rattled at her. “Should I open it?”

Jesus. Fear clawed at him until he felt like he was going to collapse on the forest floor.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Go for it.”

Some part of him receded to the back corner of his mind while she took the box out of the tree and opened it, the silver ring glinting in what was left of the sunlight. Ever the hunter, she noticed the runes engraved into the outside first. Trying to place them as something nasty she’d tangled with already. She took the ring out, turning it around in the light.

“Is this the cursed thingy?” she asked, holding it out for him to examine it. Finally, her eyes caught the engraving on the inside.

Always. Dean.

“That’s it,” he confirmed as her jaw fell open, eyes the color of hot coffee darting to meet his.

“This is…” She swallowed hard, still holding the ring between her fingers. “This is a fake hunt, isn’t it?”

Dean balked. “What?”

“You took me snipe hunting!” she cried indignantly marching over to demand an explanation.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. God, this was going down in flames right in front of his eyes. This was his punishment for trying to be romantic. He should have known not to venture from his comfort zone.

“And I fell for it!” she marveled. “Like an idiot teenager with a crush, I just let you drag me out here.”

He could see her starting to panic, her eyes giving him a window straight into her rioting mind. Clearly it wasn’t the fake hunt that was bothering her.

“Donna,” he started, reaching for her hand to pull her closer. He was running on instinct now, trying to salvage what he’d done. She went to him willingly but her eyes darted to her shoes and stayed there. He hadn’t seen her do that in years. She was self-conscious, and if his instincts were right she may have even been downright afraid.

“I, uh. I know how you feel about this kind of thing,” he told her honestly, having heard her thoughts about marriage long before tonight. She felt like she'd failed at marriage years ago and a repeat attempt would only serve to make sure she failed Dean, too. She could never fail him but that wasn't something she realized yet.

“That’s because I’ve told you. Near a million times now, I bet.”

“I know that, but I'm not trying to put shackles on you. I don't want a circus or a party or anything. Hell, it won't even be legal since I've been declared dead for a few years now.”

Her head cocked to the side and she scowled. “You have?”

“Long story.”

Donna giggled. Maybe he was getting somewhere after all.

“I just wanted to give you something to show you that you're it for me. I'm taken,” he explained, straining to communicate everything he wanted to without knowing how. “So are you, if you want to be. I want you to be taken too.”

“Are you proposing to me, Winchester?” she asked coyly, making him think that maybe she'd managed to push her fear to the wayside. At least for the moment.

“Yes. That's what I'm trying to do, anyway.”

“I hate to break this to you, but I've been taken for a long time now.” She gave him a bright smile. “I ain't so much as looked at another man in years. Why bother when I've got the best of them in my bed already?”

“Damn right,” he grinned, ignoring the impulse to deny her praise. He'd long ago stopped trying to convince her that he didn't deserve it. “Does this mean you'll wear it?”

She beamed. “Only if you put it on.”

Dean huffed out a laugh and took the ring from her, frowning when she offered her right hand.

“The other one.”

“Whoops, sorry.”

He slid it onto her dainty little finger, satisfied at all get out that it fit. He'd made it himself, from melting the silver down to the engraving. He'd sat down with a dremel in the garage and spent the better part of a weekend practicing before he committed anything to the real thing. Some of the lines weren't quite even and the words on the inside weren't exactly pretty but the way Donna looked at it on her hand told him it didn't matter.

“What are the designs on it?” she asked, voice breaking.

“Runes,” he answered. “For protection, so you're safe and I feel better. That one is for bravery so we don't get scared and try to run from each other.” He pointed at the last, holding her hand in his. “This one is for love. Because I do, Donna. I love you so much more than I thought I could love anything. And I want you to remember that, even when I'm an ass and I can't say it.”

“That’s not much of a curse,” she teased him, flattening her hands over his chest. Her eyes shone with tears.

“Sure it is,” he replied. “Whoever wears it is cursed to be stuck with me forever.”

“Then sign me up.”

He ducked his head down and rested it against hers, closing his eyes as she came up the rest of the way to kiss him. It was sweet and simple, no longer tinged with the fear he’d seen in her eyes a few minutes earlier. She moved her hand up to cup his jaw and the cool metal against his skin from her ring made him shiver. The possessive streak in him widened a little and his blood heated to a simmer.

“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips with a smile. “More than I thought I could love anything.”

He grinned. “I’m sorry it can’t be official or anything. I mean, if you want to take my name you can. You just wouldn’t have a marriage certificate or anything to back you up if someone questioned you.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked. “For me to take your name?”

“I would love that. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“If I did would that make me a widow?” she asked and he chuckled. “You know, since you’re dead and all.”

“I guess so.”

“Oh gosh. That means I’m also a necrophiliac.”

He smirked. “Yeah, but you’re terrific at it if that makes you feel any better.”

Donna grinned. “Ya know? It kinda does.”

The sun finished setting and he kissed her again, delighting in the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist. The fake magic tree glowed behind her and she tasted like the lemon cookie he’d seen her eating earlier. Blood rushed in his ears and his heart thumped heavily in his chest. Some part of his brain tried to riot and run because it wasn’t often he felt like his life was perfect, or that he was exactly where he needed to be. It wasn’t until Donna shivered in his arms that he realized night had fallen and the temperature had dropped.

“Come on, grave robber. Let’s get you warm.”

Donna snorted.

“You gonna talk to your widow that way, Winchester?”

“Yeah. Every damn day for the foreseeable future.”

She squeezed his hand as they walked back to the path that brought them there.

“Good.”

#dean x donna #donna hanscum #dean winchester #spn fanfic #deonna #spn fluff #deonna fluff #ahumanfemale #snipe hunting

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chorusfic · 4 years

Text

through the doorway

When the door closes on them, it is not a gentle thing.

There were no raised voices, though, no angry, cutting words, just the sound of a door shutting hard, with finality, without being slammed. It was the sense that they had both lost something, without knowing precisely what.

Monica had let the wounds in her heart fester, and Leon’s attempts to bandage them had been for naught.

The door to them closed as sharply as the door to Leon’s home, but neither of them turned the lock.

---

The first time the door to them considers opening again, it’s at an FBI safehouse just south of the West Virginia border.

It’s not the first time Leon’s been called to a bustling safehouse reeking of steel-boned discipline and desperation for answers. Two years after Raccoon City, and mistakes are still made–mistakes that lead to situations like these. Avoidable ones, but no less tragic.

Across the room, a familiar shape with a messy dark brown braid stands with a clipboard in one arm and a pen behind her ear. There’s no coffee mug to be found in her general vicinity, so Leon goes to fetch one. An olive branch.

She speaks before looking up. “I’ll have my report on the hour, as requested, when the scientists get back to–”

“Monica.” he says, and watches her posture–so easy and almost casual–stiffen like a statue.

Monica turns her head slowly and her gaze dips toward the coffee mug before returning to him. The dark rings under her equally dark eyes are more stark than ever, twin monuments to many late nights and exhausting days. She reaches out and takes the mug, but sets it on a nearby desk while her grip on her clipboard tightens. “Officer Kennedy, you’re here, good.” she clears her throat, and Leon’s own tightens at the brisk cadence of her voice, “I’d assumed you were my new superior, coming to harass me about the reports. You’ll be briefed once they arrive.”

The silence that sits between them is an opportunity. The rest of the safehouse is absorbed in their tasks, and both of them stand far enough away that they couldn’t be directly eavesdropped upon.

“Nicky,” is all Leon gets the chance to say, before he watches Monica’s grip on her clipboard tighten even more, white-knuckled through her fingerless gloves.

“Now’s not the time.” she says quietly, a whisper under the door to them, and as quickly as it came, the opportunity is gone.

Still, he grasps for it anyway. “Will there be a time?”

Her quiet is the only answer given, but it is answer enough.

---

The second time the door to them considers opening, it’s after a few too many drinks and a little too much tension to let go of.

Touch is easier and yet so much more difficult than words. Easier, because deep in her chest Monica knows she can trust him not to hurt her, and harder, because of that knowledge that she trusts him at all. It should have been easier to cut him loose, like so many others, but here they are, with their painfully familiar touches on feverishly warm skin.

She’s surprised he can’t taste the poison, leaking from somewhere in her soul, but if he does, he doesn’t seem to mind it.

It’s familiarity without depth, that same trap they’ve fallen into before, but an addicting and inevitable one–somehow, they end up in the other’s orbit without acknowledgment beyond this, and sometimes Monica knows he might try to scratch the surface, to dig deep, but not tonight.

Tonight he’s willing to take a page from her book while she scratches his surface, deep lines on skin that are something like begging and something like desperation–for forgiveness? For understanding?–but in the end neither of them can think straight enough to consider the implications.

Morning comes and sees Monica leave before she’s noticed, a fresh scar, self-inflicted, on her heart, as the door quietly shuts behind her.

---

There is a shift, when Monica looks at the door to them, considers where it lurks in her subconscious while she rests in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm and a new bandage around her shoulder and chest.

She considers how they left that door where it was, thinking back then that it might be better left closed for good, locking away the idea of putting forth the effort that it would take for her to leech the soft, subtle poison from her heart. She considers the many words they exchanged, frustrated and hurt. Neither of them understood what they needed, and had instead taken what they wanted.

It had led them to this–a closed door, with no one waiting on the other side, the wordless attempts they’d made to crack it open, only to shut it more firmly than before.

It’s easy to convince herself that she reaps what she sows–she is the solitary master of her fate–but the scythe is worn and rusted now, and she knows she cannot rise up from this hospital bed, return to her miserable solitude, tend the fields and boughs of her life, and convince herself it is enough.

Instead, Monica looks inward, to that deep, howling void in her chest, with its insidious and calculated poison, and she lights a candle.

---

The third time the door to them considers opening, it happens like this.

A voicemail, left on Leon’s cell early in the morning–early enough that the caller would know he wouldn’t yet be awake–asked him for a moment of his time, and ordinarily time was a luxury Leon never had in abundance, but for this, time could be made.

He finds himself at Baker’s Beach, close enough to see the Golden Gate bridge in the distance, far enough away from the summer vacationers testing the sun and its capacity to burn. Even in the heat, Monica stands in her jacket at least one size too big, baggy on her frame. Her hair is shorter now, but still long enough to braid, and the way her hands are held in front of her body, out of Leon’s sight, says she’s holding something in her hands.

He approaches and discovers that it’s a camera. Monica holds it up and snaps a shot of the bridge before setting it down on a nearby rock. She turns when Leon’s boot scuffs against a small stone, and there is resounding silence where their eyes meet.

It feels like a risk, but it’s an easy one to take. “Hey, Nicky.”

The skin around Monica’s eyes tightens, but her expression softens. “Hey, Leon.”

Looking at the camera, he nods towards it, a safe topic to begin with. “I didn’t know you were such a tourist.”

She huffs, and some of the tension between them breaks. “I’m not, but out of all the places I lived in while I was young, San Francisco was never one of them. Figure I’d better take a picture just in case I never come back.”

Silence falls, and Leon’s moments from asking what Monica wants when she sighs and jams her hands in her pockets, looking up to meet his eyes. “We made a bit of a mess, didn’t we?”

It’s phrased as a question, but both of them already know the answer. Leon grasps for whatever angle Monica hopes to take with bridging the gap that’s slowly widened between them–but not for long, never for long–and comes up empty.

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Leon rubs a hand on the back of his neck, thinking, thinking, trying to gather the thoughts he’d prepared on so many restless nights when he’d wondered what he might say if this opportunity ever came again. For the first time in years, he considers the door to them, and dares to reach for the unlocked handle.

“I know it’s been…a while.” Monica shuffles her feet, but doesn’t break his gaze. “And I understand if these are wounds you’d rather not reopen, or if you wanna just move on–you’d be more than within your rights to–but at least I thought we could get…closure.”

Leon’s stomach drops, and he thinks he does well to hide it. “You’ve never wanted to talk about this before.”

“I was afraid of what it meant.” Monica admits, and something in Leon’s chest tightens. She does look away this time, so briefly, to the beach and the sunbathers behind them. When she turns back, it’s like a barrier has just been knocked down, a barrier Leon knows had to have been there years ago, but he never knew what it meant for her to keep it there. “I was afraid of being better because I didn’t know any different. Doing everything alone was just…how I learned to handle things.”

“And then I didn’t know how to help you.” Leon trails off as some of the pieces fall together at once.

“We frustrated each other because we didn’t know any better.” Monica shrugs, and it tries to be a casual thing, but the weight of their words offsets it. “And we thought the bond we had in Raccoon City would be enough to carry it through, instead of talking about it. But it didn’t. Turns out leaning on our shared trauma wasn’t enough to substitute a real relationship.”

A laugh bubbles up in Leon’s chest despite himself, but he turns it into a cough before it can be given voice. “So…where does that leave us?”

Monica takes a deep breath, shivering despite the heat. “That’s up to you,” is all she says, handing him control over what happens to that door, that door leading to them that’s been still and silent for years now, with its occasional half-hearted notes passed under it, its hurried whispers of another time, maybe. “Both of us had some fault in what happened, but I needed to make the choice to get better. I wasn’t ready to make that choice back then, but…I’ve taken steps to do it now.” Her shrug is less casual that time, stiff and nervous. “I’m not where I want to be, yet. But I know how to get there, and I’m on my way.”

“I want to help you,” he finds himself saying without thinking, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind, because of course he wants to help, but now a barrier between them that prevented it has been knocked down and he knows better how.

“Yeah?” it’s so raw and open and unusually soft for Monica, but the question is there, and he can see something like hope in her dark eyes, in the slight lifting of her lip that’s trying to be a smile.

“Uh…yeah.” Leon says, because he can feel the heat in his neck threatening to overtake his face, and he can’t blame it on the sun because they haven’t been out here for that long, but Monica’s grin gets wider, and it feels like years have sloughed off them both. “But I want to do it right. I want to know more about you. If you…want to tell me.”

“I do.” she takes a step forward, almost within touching distance, and the line of tension between her brows that Leon can’t ever remember seeing her without vanishes. “I really, really do.”

---

When the door opens on them, it is no gentler than the closing, but for all the right reasons.

It’s the excitement of summer afternoons, slamming the door open to let the warmth rush in, the easy swing on hinges as the breeze passes through, with the same certainty of Leon in her arms, of the sand beneath their boots, of the raucous laughter of some of the beach’s guests behind them, all but forgotten because they aren’t important here but their presence is, their brightness and noise and vitality.

Monica throws the door open, and lets the light pour in.

#my writing #*monica drake #me: *makes a fic blog to post my wow fic*#me: *posts a vague oneshot for a fandom and oc i never talk about*#consistent posting? don't know her #it's blue's fault because they brought it up and i wrote it forever ago but never posted it lmao #anyway have this old oc-centric resident evil fic

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