#been busy dying may i finally rest in damn peace soon when will i ever be done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurensxox · 3 years

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• ----- 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂'𝒔 𝑳𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒚 ----- •

Fandom :: The Arcana

Pairing :: Background Muriel x Apprentice, Familial Morga & Count Lucio

Warning/s :: Muriel Route Spoilers, Death, Mourning, Blood, Mild Description of Injuries

Genre :: Angst

Summary :: Morga succeeded in ending her unfinished business with her son using the plan the Apprentice has cooked up.

Author's Note :: Sorry Not Sorry, I dreamed of this and woke up crying. I will not let myself be the only one to suffer so I might've have defied the logic and plot of the game just so you'll be in pain with me :)

Morga heaved as she fell to her knees, her hands that were clutching her spear trembled as the choked sounds of her son made its way into her ears. His own hands, covered with blood soaked fur and sharp claws, weakly held her wrists, trying to use the last of his strength to push her hand away and pull away the spear from where it is lodged into his chest, pinning him to the slowly reddening dirt. Morga knew that she should feel victorious for having successfully put down her tyrant of a son, the evil who was helping someone far more dangerous into destroying the world as she knows it. She brought back the pride and honor of her husband that perished in an unjust and disgraceful battle with his son, her son. Her slowly rebuilding tribe will no longer be tainted with the infamous reputation of her son.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t feel an ounce bit victorious, not a single spark of success, not a single drop of joy from a battle won. Instead, she was drowning in a sea of her regrets and failure. Disappointment filling her system as she finally opens her eyes and looked down at her son. She had expected to still gaze upon the horrid creature her son has turned himself into, she expected to see horns and red eyes, she expected to see bloodied fur and a muzzle hiding his sharp teeth.

But as their eyes met, similar silver eyes meeting, she felt her resolve start to crumble. Face so similar to the man that she swore to spend her life with, golden locks spread underneath his head and mingling with dirt, pale skin decorated with continuous flow of blood from his lips. His eyes, free of the red hue of the plague, stare back up at her. Pleading her to have mercy on him, to help him as she has always done in his childhood. Eyes so similar to her own were swimming with pain and despair, panic and fear at his upcoming death.

Lucio could feel it, death slowly creeping up to him as he continues lightly choke on the blood flowing from his mouth and down his cheek, staining his once pristine white uniform. The dying man didn’t even notice that he was no longer in the form that he despise, he didn’t notice how he was back to his former self. Too focused on trying to convey what he is feeling at the moment to his mother using his eyes, he had tried to talk but that only prove to further increase the flow of blood clogging his throat and mouth. He knew that he made a lot of oopsies that his mother will never approve of but he never thought that she would actually–

A pained gasped left his mouth as Morga finally pulled the spear out of her son’s chest, immediately throwing it away to the side and away from the two of them. It rolled up to the two other people that she has completely forgotten were there with her. But she pained them no mind, she’ll deal with them later. Right now, she wants to focus on her son. Her dying son.

Apprentice watched with astonishment as the previously cold woman gently caressed her son’s cheek, her eyes soft and brimming with tears as she gaze down at her fallen son. Her white hair was shielding the former count’s face from their view, Apprentice could not help but think of it as Morga’s way of shielding her son from the evil that she was previously wasn’t able to do. Although, from what evil, they did not know. Looking up at Muriel, who were staring at the mother and son with unreadable expression, it may be from that.

“How could she still be sad from his death? He ended so much innocent lives with his selfishness” Muriel quietly said, leaning down to take hold of their mentor’s discarded spear, his eyes not leaving the two on the ground. Apprentice wondered the same for a moment, Morga did mention about how she must end her son, their unfinished business, for his heinous crimes. How could she look so regretful now if this was her end goal? But as they think more about it… There was really only one answer for that.

“He’s still her son. She’s still a mother who ended her own son.” They answered, looking at Morga with higher respect. They couldn’t imagine the pain that she must be feeling right now. No matter how tough she seems to be, it still must hurt to be the one to end your own child. “I imagine it must still hurt”

The tall man didn’t answer.

Apprentice sighed, now feeling like they’re intruding on a moment. Just as they were about to suggest giving them some space and privacy, a beautiful humming tune that soon turned into singing emerged from the pair on the floor. It sounded like a lullaby one would sing to soothe their child from remembering a horrifying nightmare. Comforting singing that managed to relax the Apprentice’s tense shoulders and from their place, they couldn’t believe that the singing was actually coming from the older female.

Morga was singing a lullaby to her son, Lucio- no, Montag. They remember, Morga is probably seeing her stubborn son Montag right now and not the cruel Count Lucio of Vesuvia.

After watching the woman sing her lullaby to her son, Muriel couldn’t seem to handle the scene any longer and fled the place. Apprentice took one last look at the pair, silently listening to the song for a little bit before following after the much taller man. They’ll come back to her after some time, she clearly needed some more time with her son and to be honest? Both them and Muriel needed it too.

Lucio let out a sigh, no longer fighting as the soothing music of a lullaby that he has not heard in decades surround him. It was still as comforting as he remembers, still fills him with security like the furred warm blanket that his father made for him in his childhood. He never thought that he’ll ever hear this song again, he thought that the last time he’ll get to relax to the sound of it was when he was a mere 5 years old toddler. His mother wasn’t really the singing type. Nevertheless, he relaxed. He knew that this was it, there’s no coming back from this one. His soul will probably be snatched as soon as he passes and as much as death and the demons scaring the shit out of him, he was happy that he was at least been able to hear his music sanctuary for the last time.

His mother was crying- such a strange sight for the normally stoic and cold woman. Her tears were falling directly onto his cheek and eyes and so he closed them, not knowing it will be the last time he’ll ever do so.

As he open his eyes once again, he noticed how cold and wet his back seems to be. The scenery changed around him as well, all around him were tall bare trees covered in snow and ice forming around the branches. The wind was howling coldly and yet, despite that and the coldness on his back, he’s warm. The furred coat that looks quite big on him was what was keeping the cold from affecting him.

Hearing the crunching of snow beside him, he turned his head and saw his father walking towards him with a victorious smile on his face, on his shoulder was a huge elk. Looks like they’ll be having a great dinner tonight. Just as he was about to stand and cheer for his father, he sneezed rather violently and he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped his throat.

He sniffed as he was properly wrapped in the coat and was carried by his mother, his head coming down to rest on her shoulder near her neck. Her scent offers him all the protection and security that he needs. He knows she’ll keep all the monsters away from him, especially the worm ones. She was a strong woman and everyone in their tribe fears her wrath.

“This is why I have told you not to lay on the snow, Monty. You will risk yourself getting sick.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance yet her eyes were soft and fond as she look down at the scrunched up face of her heir. “Come, let us head home and get you warmed up before dinner. Your new furred coat should be done by now.” She said as she leans down to pick up her son’s wooden sword, she would need to start training him with real blades soon.

Soon, the family of three headed home. Montag has never felt more safe than where he is right now and if this was a dream, he never wants to wake up anymore. He wants to stay with his mama and papa.

Meanwhile, in reality, Morga was making her way to the Apprentice and Muriel. Her expression was blank but the redness of her eyes shows just what she was feeling at the moment. The Apprentice was tempted to offer her condolences to the woman but Muriel shook his head. He was right, she’ll probably not appreciate it.

As they walk away from the deathbed of one unforgettable Count, the two in front of her were oblivious to the damning mark on the spot below her belly button and right over her womb. A mark of her deal with the Devil, trading her son’s soul with hers as a way to repent for her failure and to at least give her son a peaceful life on the other side.

The song I imagined Morga was singing :: Isabella's Lullaby

#the arcana game #the arcana #count lucio #the arcana morga #montag morgasson #the arcana montag #the arcana lucio #the arcana count lucio #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel x apprentice #muriel route #angst #fanfiction #the arcana fic #the arcana angst #fanfic #sad #mother and son

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sixdaysofswordsandshields · 3 years

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TW - This story contains murder, swearing, and lots of blood. Please read at your own risk.

This is a somewhat short (~2.7K words), angsty fanfiction about Felix after the war losing his grip, and taking out his frustration in the form of, well, murder. I also would like to say that this is in no way me trying to hate on Dimitri. He is one of my favorite characters, and that is a piece of fiction. I do not agree with everything Felix thinks here, it is fiction. Enjoy!

Felix woke up in a cold sweat. He jolts awake, gasping for air. Glenn... He buries his face in his hands. It's been 10 years, so get out of my head!

Felix hasn't gone a single day without questioning why he alone had to be the sole survivor of his family. Peace was attained, the war was won, Felix was married to the love of his life. Everything was supposed to be good.

He was supposed to be happy.

And part of him was. Truly was happy. Being the new duke of the kingdom had its downsides, but he could finally live freely.

But another part of him was dying, eating away at his very existence. They left you, Felix. They all left you for him. Felix clenches his fist in the silk sheets of his bed, his knuckles turning white. All for that stupid, blond bastard.

Why him?! Why did they have to die for him?! All because of him, Felix had lost everything. With every single day that passed by, that small voice in the back of Felix's head grew louder. It's all his fault, Felix. It's his fault that they're gone.

Felix sighs and gets out of his bed, extra careful to not wake up his lover. He makes his way down to the back door of the Fraldarius Estate, the wood stairs softly creaking with every step. He remembers his childhood. "Felix, little bro!" Glenn would harshly whisper. "Yes, I know. It's the third, ninth, and sixteenth ones that creak." Felix would nod, making his way down as fast as he could. Felix smiles at the thought. They would always sneak out together at night to play...

Felix told his retainers that he simply wanted to be left alone for the time being. He doesn't bother grabbing a jacket. He steps outside into the snow and sighs, his breath foggy in the frigid temperatures of Faerghus.

"Felix... Do you think there will ever be a day where we can rest peacefully?" A voice that sounds too much like Glenn whispers in his ear. Felix gasps, turning around. "Glenn?! Who's there?" He says, stepping backwards in shock and falling back into the snow.

But there was nobody.

Felix takes a deep breath. I'm sure I'm just imagining things. What nonsense, how pathetic. Felix pushes himself up from the snow, his body beginning to shake from the cold. "I should go train." He mutters, turning to the direction of the door.

He hears a deep sigh coming from behind him. "Felix, my son, we've talked about this several times. It's rude to ignore people, especially your own brother."

Felix turns around to be met with his father, who was still looking the exact same as he did the night of his death. He burned with hatred. "Huh. That's damn funny coming from you. You were always the one ignoring me for that idiotic blond mop! Dimitri this, Dimitri that... I'm your son. But you never acknowledged that. Leave me alone, you old bastard."

"Felix, bro, calm down. Why fret over it? The dead are dead, right? We're gone. Forever. You have no right to criticize dad for what he's done because he's dead. The dead are dead, and the living are living." Says Glenn, stepping towards his father. He had seemed to age from when Felix had last seem him. Still towering over him, of course. Felix looks up into his blue eyes, the same shade as his father's, "I know that. Unlike some people around here, I know how to practice what I preach. But... But... I... Nevermind. I'll be going now. Goodbye." He begins to make a beeline towards the door.

"But what, little brother? Spit it out, I know you want to. How did you expect us to rest peacefully when he's still out there?" Asks Glenn, reaching up to tighten his ponytail. Glenn hadn't changed at all. Still obsessed with his hair, still clearly following that 5 step skin routine he was so insistent on, still had that one stupid strand of hair that was more wavy than the others and refused to sit flat upon his head, still Glenn. He was still Glenn. Felix feels a pang in his heart. His brother... He felt like home.

"He took us from you, Felix." Says Rodrigue, nodding along.

"Shut up. You're wrong. Both of you gave up your lives for him. How foolish." Felix says through clenched teeth. The cold of the air was beginning to bite at him, but he didn't care. "Both of you left me for him! For him! You gave up your lives like fools for one man. That's what you chose to do. Why? Why couldn't you have just lived? Why is he so important?!" Felix screams.

"Felix, sweetheart, we didn't want to die for him. He only did it because we had to. This is all his fault, Felix. Blame Dimitri, not us. Right, father?" Says Glenn, the a small smirk on his face.

"Of course, my son. He did this to us, and you're the only person who can avenge us." Nods Rodrigue, a gentle smile on his face. It's been so long since Felix had seen that smile...

Felix clutches his throbbing head in his hands, "Get out of my head! Y-You're wrong! There is no avenging the dead! Go away!" Felix shouts into the cold air.

Glenn chuckles.

"Maybe you'll finally get it when you stop lying to yourself. You hate him, Felix. You always have." He purrs, leaning in.

"No! The war is over. He's saved us so many times and he's... he's... my friend!"

A sigh from Glenn. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I forgot about that phase where you couldn't do crap without your pretty little prince by your side. You were a damn cute kid, but damn were you annoying."

Rodrigue softly chuckles, "Glenn, my boy, that sharp tongue of yours truly is relentless."

Felix clenches his fist and tries to throw a punch at Glenn. His hand just goes through him and he falls back into the snow. So cold...

"So quick to resort to violence... You really just a kid, Felix. Just a lost, scared kid who's neck-deep in denial. He's a horrible man. Just open your eyes to the truth." Says Glenn, looking deeply, too deeply, into Felix's eyes. His glare was intense. Felix topped a step back..

"Indeed. How long is it going to take for you to avenge us, Felix?! How long is it going to take for you for bring us his head, like how you've wanted to for so many years?" Sighs Rodrigue, gently rubbing his temples from stress.

"Yeah, Felix. We've been waiting for too long. You're disappointing. We lost everything because of that boy..." Whispers Glenn, staring up at the pale sky.

Felix blinks and they're gone. He buries his face in his hands, tears burning at the edges of them. He shivers in the snow, sniffing from the cold.

One of his retainers comes running outside with a thick, wool blanket. "Lord Felix, please, I insist that you come inside. You're going to catch a cold." She says, offering him a hand.

Felix ignores it and stands up on his own. He stares hole into the ground. "Fine. But, um, I have a question." Felix says, hesitating. "Nevermind, forget I said anything." He needed time to think. Is this truly the right decision...? Felix sighs. Maybe it is. Glenn and Father can finally rest peacefully...

"Of course, my lord." His retainer nods, wrapping him in the blanket. "Would you like for me to brew you some tea? Margrave Gautier gave us a new blend from Almyra. He said that he's been saving it for you and that it's extremely spicy."

"Hmph, fine." He mutters, walking through the door and back into the warmth of his home. He sits down on the large couch in front of the fireplace, watching his retainer prepare the teapot. Father... Glenn... They're hurting. It's all his fault. I was stupid to think that they truly and willingly gave up their lives for him...

"My lord, if I may speak freely, why were you out there? You looked like you were in very much distress. Are you... okay?" The old woman asks, preparing the hot water.

"... Glenn. Father... I must avenge them." He whispers, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Pardon? I didn't quite catch that."

Felix stands up abruptly, tossing aside the blanket and slamming his hand down onto the table. "FATHER AND GLENN NEED ME! THEY'RE IN PAIN AND I'M SITTING AROUND AND BLUBBERING FOR NO REASON!" He scowls, "Make arrangements for me to travel to Fhirdiad as soon as possible. It's for important work."

"M-My lord, are you alright? You're not yourself..."

"You heard what I said. Make the arrangements. Now." He says, storming up the stairs to his study, abandoning his tea.

Felix sits down in the chair of his study, pulling at his own hair. Father, Glenn... No. This is what they would want.

He reaches over to a small, but effective, hunting dagger he kept on his desk. He gently runs his fingers over the textured, wooden handle of the blade. I've skinned so many animals with this... One more won't hurt.

The professor gave this dagger to him on his birthday. He remembers the day vividly. What would the professor say? Would they be disappointed in him? Or would they encourage him to walk his own path?

It doesn't matter, Felix. This is what you want, and it's all for us. For your family. This is the only way we can rest peacefully.

Felix takes a deep breath.

"I'm doing this for you. Both of you."

~~~~~~

It had been weeks since the day he first saw his father and brother begging him to allow them to rest peacefully. Every single day, their voices only grew louder. Felix felt like he was going insane. They were everywhere. Do something, Felix... Bring us his head...

And now, he was at the Palace in Fhirdiad.

Dimitri's advisor couldn't do anything but sigh upon seeing the Duke.

"Good morning, Duke Fraldarius. You requested a meeting with the king?"

Felix nods, "I did."

"For what? And please make it quick, he has an extremely busy schedule full of things much more important than you."

"Hmph," Grunts Felix, "I doubt it. I just... need to play him a visit. Just want to see how an old friend's doing, nothing more."

"Ugh," The young adviser sighs, "He should be taking a break from his papers soon, you can go on ahead to his room."

"Got it. Thank you." Felix mutters, already making his way to the king's office. Felix was dressed in his formal Duke robes. Truth be told, he hated them. It was hard to move quickly and the fashion choice is just... Felix shivers at the thought. He always knew his father had horrible taste, but when did it get this bad?! He made a mental note to commission a new outfit, perhaps something more similar to his war uniform. Practical and stylish, two things the Fraldarius family were always sure to balance. With the exception of his father, of course. What even was that mustache?! At least Glenn knew what he was doing. He cared about his outfits almost as much as he did his knighthood.

Felix can feel the knife inside his sleeve. It was lightweight and small, but it seemed to be dragging him down.

He feels a pair of eyes on him.

Felix turns around in a flash, hand instinctively reaching for the sword he always kept by his side regardless of what he was wearing.

There was nobody there.

Felix sighs and lowers his hand from his blade. "I'm sure I was just imagining things." He whispers to himself, continuing to walk through the carpeted halls of the palace. "Sir, are you alright?" Questions one of the knights who was assigned to his side for safety.

"Yes, my apologizes. Don't worry about me."

Felix continued to walk until the reached the large door on the highest floor of the palace. He remembers following his father here when he met up with Lambert.

Felix takes a deep breath. Glenn, Father... I am doing this for you. He knocks on the door firmly.

"You may come in." Responds a voice behind the door.

Felix opens the door and steps inside. "Hello, Dimitri."

Dimitri looks up from his paperwork, almost like an excited puppy. "Felix! Hello! What brings you here?" He smiles, pushing all his papers aside, "Pardon the mess, things have been rather hectic as of late!" He chuckles, standing up from his chair. Felix takes a good look at him. He looked... happy. His long, blond hair was tied up in a small ponytail in the back of his head, and the scar on his eye was healing nicely. He was dressed in a thin, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Around the desk was several broken quills. Felix would smile, but he couldn't. Not after what he was about to do.

"I just... wanted to visit, that's all. Can we... chat? We need to talk." Felix says, and he could've sworn that he heard a chuckle that sounded a bit too much like Glenn come from behind him. But he payed it no mind. Felix's imagination had been running rampant as of late.

"Of course!" The young king smiles and reverts his attention to the knights behind Felix, "May you please leave us alone for a bit?" They all left.

Felix's heart starts pounding faster in his chest.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Felix?" Dimitri asks, stepping close to Felix. Was this really the right choice..?

"You." Says Felix, grabbing the knife from his sleeve. He roughly shoves Dimitri against the wall, the bookshelves shaking from the force.

"Me?! Felix... What are you doing?" Dimitri asks in a panic.

"What father and Glenn couldn't!" He screams, plunging the knife into Dimitri's stomach. Dimitri gasps, "Stop this! Knigh-"

Dimitri tries to call for help, but he couldn't. Not when Felix was tackling him to the ground. Felix hovers over him.

"You took everything that I loved!" He screams, his face red with fury. Almost as red as the blood staining his hands. He takes the knife out and plunges it back into Dimitri's shoulder.

"They all died for you, you bastard!" Felix sniffs, tears stinging at his eyes.

"Felix... No... They died for what they... believed in." Dimitri says weakly, rolling them over so that he was on top. He stands up as fast as he can, shirt soaked with crimson. He attempts to stop the bleeding with his hands, but there was too much.

"You took them away from me. All my life, it was always Dimitri this, Dimitri that. Have you any idea how painful it was?! When Father came to me in tears, telling me that Glenn was gone because of you?! Of course you don't, you useless bastard!" Felix shouts, kicking at Dimitri's chest, knocking him down to the floor.

"Felix, stop this nonsense. It... hurts..." Dimitri whispers, his blood soaking into the wooden floor. But even so, he kept fighting. He tried to push himself back up.

"It hurts, huh?! Good!" Felix says, hot tears streaming down his face as he tackles Dimitri back down to the ground.

Felix grabs the knife again, holding it up to Dimitri's neck, applying just enough pressure to make him bleed.

"Glenn was hurting too." Felix whispers in the king's ear.

Felix removes the knife from his neck, and stabs him again. Again and again. "That one's," the plunges the knife into him once again, "for father!"

"YOU TOOK HIM AWAY FROM YOU! YOU TOOK THEM BOTH AWAY FROM YOU! YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT! YOU'LL PAY!"

"Felix.... why...?" Was all Dimitri could get out before collapsing, becoming as limp as a ragdoll.

Felix sobs, he can't stop sobbing. He holds the body close to him.

He looks down at his hands.

Red.

He looks at his clothes.

Red.

He only sobs harder.

"I-I'm sorry. Father... Glenn... You can rest easy now..."

The Knights come rushing in upon hearing the ruckus.

"Your Highness!" They scream.

There was so much blood, and Felix felt sick.

He clutches the body close to him, and he keeps sobbing. He couldn't stop sobbing, damnit.

The knight looks at him in horror, "You traitor! You bastard!"

Another one lifts him up by the neck. "I would kill you here and now, but where's the fun in that? Take him away."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"It's too late for apologies. He's gone! To hell with you!" He ties Felix's hands together, "I'm looking forward to watching you suffer.

#tw murder #tw blood #so um yeah that was a fun one #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 16 #fe3h #fe16 #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri fire emblem #felix hugo fraldarius #felix fire emblem #fanfiction #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem fanfic #fire emblem angst #glenn fraldarius #rodrigue achille fraldarius #my writing

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 83

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

The call comes shortly before four in the morning; the shrill ring and the incessant vibration of the phone against the nightstand startling him awake. Tyler groans at the intrusion; annoyed by the abrupt end to what had been an uncharacteristically peaceful sleep. Insomnia had settled in their first night in Dhaka; rattled by the ongoing threats against his family and the turn to the very place where he’d nearly lost his life. Seven years feels like seventy some days; given reprieve when the memories don’t creep up for weeks, sometimes even months on end. Yet there’s times where it feels as if it were seven days ago; vivid recollections of the taste of his own sweat and blood, the smell of gunpowder and spilt gasoline, the cries of the wounded and dying. It’s been years since he’s had what he considers a decent sleep; five to seven hours without being disturbed by pain or bad dreams or being woken by a crying baby or little ones climbing into bed alongside him.

While it only been three hours since he and Esme had returned upstairs the short period of rest that had preceded their love making had been the deepest and most restful sleep in recent memory. The day’s roller coaster of emotions finally caught up to him; initially channelled into languid and gentle -and ultimately desperate- sex. The realization that it may very well be the last time they would physically enjoy each other fuelling the need; hands and mouths working together to fully worship and pleasure one another before giving in to the act itself. Moving slowly inside of her at first; long, soft kisses being exchanged as her hands roamed his shoulders and back and travelled down his arms. Those huge, dark eyes and her legs wrapping around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back signalling that she needed more from him. WANTED more. And he’d obliged; repeatedly driving into her with near brutal force. Thrusts that pushed her further up the bed and had her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort; teeth sinking into his shoulder and nails breaking the skin as they raked down his back and over his ribs. Enjoying the way his name sounded coming from her mouth; whether it be the whispers and whimpers or the begging and pleaded and eventually the cry of her released. It’s always been her favorite thing to hear, even outside of sex. The way it sounds when she’s giggling while he teases her or when it’s sleepy and slightly disoriented after he’s woken her up after falling asleep on the couch.

He can remember what it had felt like when she’d said it for the first time; in that cramped and dirty hotel room in the city centre. Since their initial first meeting at that old shack in the outback, she’d been calling him by his last name; a habit picked up in both the military and her time on the job. First names are usually abode; too personal considering the unpredictable circumstances and the very short time you’re actually in someone’s life. But in that moment...in the heat of an intense argument between two severely obstinate people...with his hand around her neck and those dark eyes -stoic and unnerved- staring up at him, everything changed.

“Admit it,” she’d snarled. “For the right price, you’d leave me AND the kid behind. Admit it, Tyler.”

It was the first time she’d said it; his first name. And it had caused something inside of him to snap; that stubbornness and assertiveness and those eyes his complete undoing. It had been years since a woman had made him feel that level of want and need, and despite the rational side of his brain screaming at him to walk away, he’d given in. His hand still on her throat as he kissed her with a complete loss of control he’d never exhibited with anyone else. Spurred on when she’d so eagerly responded; unable to stop things from progressing even further. Taking her right there up against the wall, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that were fuelled by years of anger, guilt, and regret. And that little body had taken everything he’d unleashed on it; hands tightly gripping his hair and her legs wound around his waist. Encouraged by the way she begged and pleaded for ‘more and ‘harder’ and the way his first name suddenly couldn’t stop tumbling from her lips.

After that, she never called by his last name ever again. And he’d have to stop himself from smiling every time she said his first. It sounded THAT good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he reaches over his wife’s still, sleeping form and snags the phone before it can go to voicemail. There’s that brief moment of panic of late night calls while on a job; someone getting a hold of him to say that something to one -or all- of the kids. The tightness that forms in your chest and the way your heart hammers wildly. But the relief is instantaneous at the sight of Yaz’ name on the screen. Although it brings a whole host of other emotions with it.

“Yeah?” His greeting is simple. Voice laced with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Be ready to go in three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“Guy I sent to try and get eyes in Asif’s place had other ideas; decided to go a different route. Grabbed one of the street thugs and beat the shit out of him and threatened to blow his knee caps and his dick off if he didn’t tell him where Neysa and Aarev are.”

“And he rolled over on his buddies?”

“Guess he really wanted to keep the family jewels. You were right; it IS a storage facility. One that hasn’t been in business for a while. About ten minutes outside of the city centre, going west. Sent my guy there to check it out; three separate buildings. They’re being held somewhere in the centre one. Sorry I couldn’t narrow it down any further.”

“I’ll work with whatever you give me. How many hostiles on site?”

“My guy counted six. I was able to get some surveillance set up; I’ve only seen ten at the most. Not too bad, right? If you can take out a whole apartment of assholes…”

“I’m not the man I was back then.”

“It was only seven years ago. Not seventy.”

“Tell that to my body.”

“You gonna be alright?” Yaz asks. “Think your old bones can handle this?”

“It’s not my bones I’m worried about.”

“If you can’t mentally do this. I’m not going to hold it against you. If you think whatever is left of your sanity won’t hold up...”

“I’ll be fine. In and out, yeah? Sounds like a pretty straight forward extraction. Not too many hostiles to deal with, a pretty open space, we’re away from the market area. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know better than to ask something like that. It was a good call on Esme’s part; going north. Not a single damn roadblock that way. They’re expecting trouble to come over the Buriganga. That’s why they’ve shut the bridges down. I’ll drop you guys off just north of Dhaka; there’ll be two SUVs waiting.”

“How far back into town?”

“Twenty minutes. I'll be waiting at the extraction point. By the time anyone realizes what went down at the storage place AND get there, you’ll already be on your way back. We’re going to cause a big old thing on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.”

Tyler grins. “Big old thing, huh? I’d expect nothing less from you, Yaz.”

“Got a couple guys coming to pick the three of you up. Seven. You good to go?”

“I will be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from YOU. See you soon.”

“Yep,” he confirms, and then disconnects the call and returns the phone to the nightstand and rolls over onto his back. He groans at the discomfort in his shoulder and across the small of his back, then rakes his hands through his hair and runs them down his weary face.

He doesn’t move for several minutes; a forearm draped over his eyes. Finding himself oddly calm; long ago relegating himself to both the seriousness of the mission and his chances of getting out of it alive. The latter has improved with news of location and the number of hostels; with Koen and Rata and Anil’s two men, there will be more than enough bodies to handle everyone on site. A large indoor space will be much easier to navigate, and provides more places to grab cover if needed. He much prefers working in that kind of environment; having more room to move and not feeling as he’s being confined and suffocated. While everyone assumes the apartment seven years ago had been easy, it had in fact been one of the harder take down’s he’s ever done. There’d been a lot of people in that little space, and he’d had to work quick and with whatever items were at his disposal once he was unarmed.

Tyler moves back onto his side; sliding closer to his wife’s sleeping form and wrapping an arm around her, hand settling on the small -but very visible- baby bump. The fear is there; that this is the last moment of this kind he’ll get to spend with her. That worry that he’ll never again experience that soft, supple skin pressed against his own or breathe in that familiar scent. That he won’t get to see her grow bigger with child. HIS child. The way her body changes and she becomes even more beautiful and desirable; the extra weight and curves and the way her face fills out and seems to glow. She’s never seen herself the way he does, especially while pregnant. And she could never understand how incredible she actually is; selflessly giving her body in order to nurture and protect a life that he had a hand in creation. He never thought it was possible to love someone more with each passing day. That devotion that grows impossibly stronger when she watches her as a mother.

Esme stirs. Giving a long, content sigh and then pressing herself back against him; hand slipping down to briefly rest on top of his. Her fingers grazing along his own and then over his wrist and across his forearm. Her touch is soft and deeply intimate, and the quietness and the innocence surrounding it profoundly affects him; tears pricking his eyes and his throat and chest tightening with emotion. When her hand once more settles on top of his, he pushes his fingers through hers and holds as tightly as she can stand. It’s desperate; all of his fear and his worry communicated through something so simple. And for several minutes neither move nor speak his eyes closed and the top of his nose pressed against the back of her neck.

“How long?” she asks.

“Three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“It was,” he sighs. “Way too fast.”

He’d thought he had more time. That it would take Yaz at least half a day to mobilize his teams; to get eyes into Asif’s place and scouts sent north. And he’d planned on spending every remaining waking moment with her; doing whatever it took to make sure she knew exactly how much he loves and worships hers. Words have never come easy to him; often lost on what to say past those three simple -yet profound- words. The last thing he wanted -of the worst case scenario came into play- was her being left with doubts surrounding how he felt about her. Actions are easier for him; those small, thoughtfully little gestures that always bring a smile to her face. And he’d thought he’d get that chance; an opportunity to show her just how -and what- he feels. Three hours will feel like three minutes. With a deadline like that, he’s suddenly at a loss; not knowing if there’s any words or actions that could ever truly communicate how much he DOES love her. How thankful he is for the second chance he’d been given seven years ago. And how he always thought they’d have more time together than that.

“How much do you have to do to get ready?” she asks.

“Everything’s ready to go. There’s nothing I need to do.”

“So we can just lie here like this? For a little while?”

“For the next three hours if you want.” He raises his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth.

Releasing the hold on his hand, she rolls over onto her side to face him and slides even closer to him, settling her cheek on his pillow. The tips of their noses touching and their mouths mere inches apart, eyes locked. He tries not to notice the tears that sparkles in hers; the way she chews on her bottom lip as she struggles to control her own tsunami of emotions. He manages a small smile and presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. Eyes slowly scanning her face as calloused fingertips trace the burrows in her brow and move across the tops of her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose; travelling along the outer edges of her hair and across her lips.

“Don’t go,” Esme whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Let someone else do it. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“It does. You know it does.”

“I thought I was prepared for this; that I was ready to see you walk away. But I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready. Please don’t go, Tyler.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the bridge of her nose before gathering her into his arms; pulling her flush against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and places a series of feathery pecks across her shoulder. “I’m right here. I got you.”

The tears come now; loud, heartbreaking and gut wrenching sobs that shake her entire body and he feels to his very soul. All of those emotions pouring out of her; feeling the hot, bitter drops against his skin and the way her hands desperately clutch at his upper arms and the back of his neck. Even when things had been their darkest and their hardest, she’d never control to that extent. There’s nothing left to say; no possible words that could bring her comfort. Instead he lets her cry. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against the side of her neck; a palm sliding up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. There’s little more he can do; no promises he can make or words that will lessen the severity of what lies ahead. No snide or humorous comment that will bring a smile to her face. It’s way beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; a fear and uncertainty that no other job has ever brought with it.

Eventually the sobbing subsides; transitioning into light whimpers and then a silence that’s occasionally interrupted by soft sniffles.

“You alright now?” Tyler asks when she pulls away. The hand that was in her hair now moving to her face; fingers clearing the remaining tears off her cheeks and the sides of her nose. He hates seeing her cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially when he’s the reason behind it.

“Not really,” Esme admits. “But I will be. When this is over and you’re back here. Safe and sound.”

“Hopefully it won’t be an all day thing. Sooner I’m out of there, the better. Last thing I want is to get trapped in the city. Didn’t go so well the first time.”

“This time you’re not doing it all alone. Or least you’ll have people watching your back. I could only do so much, and Ovi was just a kid. You pretty much had to carry the entire thing.”

“I think you totally underestimate how much you actually did.”

“I know I slowed you down. A lot. I know that you’d just listened to Nik…”

He pecks her lips. “We’re not going to talk about that. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

What DO you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. You have any more dreams?”

She nods. “A good one this time. A very good time.”

“About what?”

“About when we got married. How nice you cleaned up; suit, tie, the beard all trimmed.”

“I was going to cut my hair too. But I figured you’d be pissed off enough to turn around and walk out.”

“I so would have left you at the altar if you’d done that,” she teases. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do; cut your hair.”

“I will never understand your obsession with it.”

“It’s just how I know you. It’s how it looked when we met. I guess it’s just what I’m used to. I’m sure one day I won’t mind if you do something different. But I swear to God, if you ever ask me shave it off again….”

“I know it broke your heart the first time. I won’t do that to you again. Maybe I’ll keep the hair and shave the beard off.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Do you remember the morning after? The hotel in Byron Bay?”

“I vividly remember that morning. And the night before.”

“I don’t mean THAT. Although, THAT was pretty incredible. I remember thinking afterwards that it felt different. In a good way. An amazing way. Because now it just wasn’t my boyfriend or my fiance or whatever making love to me. It was my husband. I don’t know; thinking about it that way made it seem different. Is that weird?”

“No. It’s not weird. I remember watching you sleep and thinking ‘that’s my wife’.”

“You did?”

“Seemed surreal; my fake wife now being my real one. Especially after I said I’d never get married again.”

“After Mark, I told myself I’d only go for girls for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, it’s easy to see why he ruined all men for you.”

“I guess it just took a certain man to change my mind.”

“Yeah, one who could put up with all your shit.”

“I didn’t come with THAT much shit. You came with enough baggage for both of us. And I still didn’t run away. Maybe I’m the glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he grins, and kisses her.

“But do you remember that morning? We had breakfast out on the balcony. And it was so nice out; it wasn’t too hot and the sky looked amazing and the way the sun shone on the water…” she sighs. “...it was like I woke up that morning and everything seemed even more beautiful than before.”

“I remember you had your hair down; the sun was making all the red in it sparkle. And you had that on this pink shirt that was off the shoulder and tied at the middle of your back. You were already showing pretty good with Millie; I remember thinking there was no way you could possibly get any more beautiful. And I remember wondering what the hell I’d ever done to deserve my life; a new wife, a baby girl on the way. You were really talkative and giggly that morning.”

“I was a newlywed. It was my honeymoon. And you’re the bringer of multiple orgasms. We should go back there; stay at the same hotel. A little getaway.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“What I’m going to say next is probably going to sound sappy. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s really sappy. Like really, really, REALLY sappy.”

“Try me.”

“I remember watching you and seeing the ring on your fingers and thinking how good it looked on you. And I was the one who put it there. I remember thinking ‘I have a husband now’ and it felt really good to think it. And it felt even better that it was you I was thinking it about. Is that weird? That I thought that?”

“No, baby. It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.”

“And I know you don’t think it sometimes, but you’ve been an amazing husband,” her voice quivers with emotion and tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “I know things haven’t always been easy; that I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. That I’m tough to love sometimes. But you’ve been the one person I can count on; who makes me feel safe and protected. And I guess I just needed you to hear that. That there hasn’t been a time I didn’t love you. Even when things were shit, I loved you. Even when we didn’t know if we were going to make it or not.”

“But we did. We DID make it.”

“Seven years is not enough. And I’m scared that if you leave…”

“Everything’s going to be okay. In and out, right?”

“Nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Maybe this time it will be.” He brushes her hair off her forehead. “Maybe this will be the one time things don’t go to shit.”

“Maybe. But I wanted you to hear all that. About how amazing you’ve been. About how much I love you. I didn’t want you to walk out here not knowing all that.”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never doubted it. Have you? Ever doubted it?”

“How you feel about me?”

Tyler nods.

“No. You’ve always made sure that I know. Even if you don’t say it, you’ve always found a way to show it. And I see the way you look at me sometimes; you think I don’t notice, but I do. And I can’t describe it; what it looks like. How your eyes and your face look. I just know how it makes me feel when I see it. It makes me feel beautiful and incredible and...I don’t know…loved.”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. Just in case. I need to know that you know.”

“I know. I’ve always known, Tyler. I knew on the bridge. I knew before you did. It was in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”

“I have a confession to make. About seven years ago.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t know if I like the sounds of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just…it’s about the first time. In the hotel room. When I grabbed you.”

“When you tried to choke me out, you mean?” she lightly teases.

“I wasn’t angry. I mean, I was. I was pissed off that you didn’t listen to me. But I wasn’t THAT pissed off. That’s not why I did it.”

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“I was trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared. Because I liked the way you smiled at me. I liked the way you’d always find a way to touch me. I liked the sound of your voice and the way you laughed And I hated that I DID like all of that. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to like YOU. So I tried to scare you away. Because I didn’t want to feel anything else for you. Because everyone I’ve ever loved? I’ve lost. And I didn’t want that happening. Not again. That’s why I did it. I wanted to scare you away.”

“Were you surprised? When it didn’t work?”

“I think it made me even angrier. Because you wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. From me.”

“There was nothing to protect me from, Tyler. You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. And I saw you; the real you. The one you hide from else. There was nothing you could have done to scare me away.”

“And to think you call me stubborn.”

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. But you're also the sweetest. And the most adorable.”

He frowns. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. You are. You have a huge heart in that big body of yours. And you may have been able to hide it from everyone else you’ve ever known, but you’ve never been able to hide it from me. And I love that about you; you’ve never felt a reason to hide it. You’ve always trusted me; right from the first night in Dhaka. When you told me about Austin. You let me see all sides of you. Even the ones that aren’t so pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty. Or adorable. Or cute.”

“I don’t care what you say. You’re the most adorable mercenary ever.”

“How DARE you insult me like that.”

“I love you,” she says, and pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I only hope one day you’ll know how much,”

“I already know. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. Us. My kids. My life. Everything.”

She manages a shaky smile, then breaks down once more. Both arms circling his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Can you just hold me? That’s all I want. Just hold me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her hand and wraps both arms around her. As tight as he possibly can.

*****

Three hours later she finds herself standing on the front porch, watching as the last of the needed gear is loaded into the trunks of the ‘getaway’ vehicles. Despite the stifling heat and oppressive humidity, she can’t stop shivering; the fear and anxiety so powerful it creates a damp, cold sensation that stretches from head to toe and seems to burrow into her bones. It’s nearly a hundred degrees outside and she can’t seem to get warm. Not even with the fleece lined hoodie she keeps tightly wrapped around her.

Every time he leaves for a job it’s difficult; the uncertainty of the situation, the possibility of things going wrong, the potential for serious injury or even death. Normally she’s more optimistic; refusing to let doom and gloom settle in despite how dangerous a mission sounds. But this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced before; aside from seven years ago. How fitting that it’s the same place that carries such a heavy weight; the vivid and brutal memories of the past making it nearly impossible to envision a different outcome in the present.

“How are you holding up?” Koen inquires, as he joins her on the porch. A tactical vest slung over one shoulder, backpack perched on the other.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You know me; I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Usually that means a red head with daddy issues,” she teases.

“You’re way too quick for me, you know that? I see how you keep him on his toes. Although I don’t think he stands a chance against you.”

“He’s been a good sport. He hangs in there for some reason. He’s been sticking around for seven years. I’m just hoping he’ll stick around for at least seven more.”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think he’s a little too crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and pulls the sides of the hoodie even tighter around her. “I’m pretty crazy about him too. Which is why this is so damn hard. I thought I was ready; that I’d be okay when the time came. But I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.”

“Just hang in there a little while longer, kiddo. You’ve come a long way already; be a shame to break down right before the finish line. Your man’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. Smart as hell. Even if he does do dumb shit sometimes. Has a knack of getting me into trouble, that’s for sure.”

“He appreciates it. Koen; everything you’ve done, everything you continue to do. You backed him right away; when he showed up at your place and told you about the business. And you didn't think twice about helping him when all this started. You just agreed to it. Knowing how bad it could get.”

“Well, as much as I shit talk him, I really do love that drongo. I’ve got a soft spot for him. And you and the littles. How could I not? You’re the one who made him who he is now.”

“I know you’re totally overestimating my role in his life.”

“You’re the one who gave him a second chance. Saw past the mess he was. Made him a husband and a daddy again. You’re the one that’s stuck by him through all the bullshit; the booze, the meds, the job. And I know damn well he’s not the easiest person to love.”

“Well he’s made it pretty easy for me. Even at his worst, he’s better than most.”

She watches Tyler as he finishes the last of the preparations before heading out. Standing at the open tailgate of one of the SUVs, quiet and focused despite Rata attempting to carry on a loud and animated -and most likely nervous- conversation. His eyes are darker and the furrows in his brow are present; lips set in a thin, grim line as he works at filling the pockets on the vest he already sports. This is the old Tyler; the one that’s all business with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his instincts and senses running on overdrive.

“You know, I used to like seeing this side of him,” she says. “I used to love it, actually. Seeing the mercenary side of him. Intense, focused. I liked knowing what he was capable of. Now…” she sighs. “...well I don’t like it so much now. How sad is that? What kind of wife would even think that, let alone say it? How horrible am I?”

“One that loves her husband and hates what’s happening to him. You’re not horrible. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that this time isn’t different; that the stakes aren’t a lot higher. Has he ever walked into something where someone was intentionally looking to kill him?”

“Not that I know of. Not since I’ve known him.”

“Hard to like anything about a situation like this. Considering what he’s about to walk into?”

“I can’t even believe it got this far. That Mahajan went so far off the deep end that we’re actually at this point? How did this even happen? It’s been seven years! Saju is dead, why would he still want revenge on his family? And to threaten mine? We took Ovi in; we gave him a life. A real life. A real family. We love him like he’s our own. And this is how Mahajan repays us? Threatening my children, putting a bounty on my husband’s head? How the hell did it ever get to this?”

“Some people are fucked,” Koen reasons, and she gives a small, dry laugh. “I wish I had a better explanation. But it’ll all be over soon. We’ll take care of shit here, Anil will handle things with Mahajan. He’s ready to go?”

“As far as I know. He’s got a couple guards he was able to pay off. They’re going to lead him right into the showers when Mahajan is in there. It should be over pretty quick. If you ask me, he deserves something slow and painful. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they.”

“Sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Should have been over a long time ago. If we’d been told about this when it all started, Tyler would have ended it then. But Ovi dropped the ball and then Allison and her games and I just…” she sighs and tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...a lot of people fucked up. And now my husband has to go and fix it. What else is new? Just watch out for him, okay? Have his back? Please.”

“You know I will. I’ve followed him this far. Might as well go balls to the wall.”

She struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “Would it be too much to ask that you bring him back in one piece?”

“You got it kiddo.” He draws her into a tight hug and presses a kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay? We’re almost there.”

“You be safe,” Esme says, and affectionately pats his cheek when he holds her at arm's length. “It’s kind of nice having grandpa Koen around.”

“I never said you call me that.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

“Smart ass,” he smirks, then playfully tousles her hair before stepping away. Giving Tyler a nod and a small smile; patting him on the shoulder as he takes his place on the porch.

“I can’t look at you,” she says, as her hands busy themselves tightening the Velcro secured straps on his vest. “If I look at you, I’ll cry. And the last thing you need is me crying right now. I can do that when you leave.”

He places his hands on the side of her face, then presses a kiss to her hair. Neither of them speak; their eyes closed, his chin resting on the top of her head, her hands tightly gripping his forearms.

“Be safe,” she pleads.

“Always.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I wish that was enough; to get you through this”

“It’s enough,” Tyler assures her. “It’s always enough.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she finally raises her head to look at him. “I won’t ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“You ask, and I’ll do it. I’ll stay. And that’ll just bring even more problems.”

“I know. I know why it has to be you. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He cradles her face in his palms and kisses her. Longer and more intense than usual. “I gotta go,” he moves a hand to the back of her neck and places a kiss to her forehead. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, then runs a hand over the top of her head and down her hair before stepping off the porch.

“Hey!” she calls to him, and he stops and turns towards her.

“Remember the first time around, when we said we were going to travel when we got out of Dhaka?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You totally bailed on me. I think you owe me a trip, Tyler Rake,”

A grin plays in the corners of his mouth. “I definitely do,” he says, and then turns and heads for the waiting car.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

Text

He’ll save every one of us Chapter 1

Brian May x Reader with side notes of Roger Taylor x Original female character

Preview: “If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

Chapter one: The Midnight Librarians

You twirled your drum stick between your fingers, your foot tapping against the stage floor impatiently as you scanned your eyes across the sea of pub goers all awaiting your band to start performing. The crowd had been growing steadily for the past hour, though it wasn’t until five minutes ago that you and your bass guitarist Bree began to stress. This was your first performance for the summer break, and the pub had booked you to play every Friday and Saturday night until the Universities all went back, at the time you had all been beyond excited to have a steady gig for a little while, though now, sitting under the beating stage lights, you realised this could very well be your first and last gig! Your band had been booked at the last minute, only receiving the news of your time slot at the beginning of the week. It wasn’t impossible to perform your set without your lead guitarist, but he did provide back up vocals, and the songs just wouldn’t sound the same without his harmonies. The drumstick stopped abruptly in its spin, as you snapped your attention towards Bree, who had stopped tuning her guitar, an identical expression of worry etched across her face. Gesturing your head towards backstage, she eagerly nodded, and you both scurried off the bright stage, leaving your audience to wait even longer for the music to begin.

You kick the backstage door open, storming off into the carpark, your fists clenched at your sides as you go. Bree follows a ways behind you, choosing to express her anger in silence, unlike you, who decided to scream as gutturally as possible. It was an excellent way to ruin your voice just before a gig, but you couldn’t give a damn any more.

“Where the fuck is he?” You growl, as you stomp over to Bree’s station wagon, kicking the rear tyre in frustration. “He had better have a bloody good excuse for not showing up! And if tries to pull the whole, ‘Oh, I didn’t realise that was tonight!’ shit again, I’ll rip his head off!”

Bree puts her hands out in front of her, a sign that she came in peace and meant no harm. “Last I heard from him, he promised to be here, maybe something bad happened?”

“Unless he’s either dead or dying, then I fail to see what would cause him to bail without notice.” You mutter, turning your attention back to putting as much effort as possible into breaking your targeted tyre.

“Jeez Y/N, could you maybe not destroy my car? We need to get out of here somehow, if we plan on ditching that is?” Bree sighs, stepping closer to you, now that you had calmed down somewhat.

“If you want to kick something, feel free to kick our van, Roger’s been pissing me off all week.” Came a deep voice from behind you both. Stopping mid kick, you turn on the spot, regarding the new arrival with an unamused expression.

You fold you arms across your chest, tilting your head to one side as you look over the man stood before you. He had chin length hair, which looked to have been ironed into straightness within an inch of its life. Though you could imagine if he let it grow out that it would suit his angular face far better. If his voice wasn’t as gentle as it was, then his height would surely make him quite intimidating, though you found yourself unafraid of the newcomer. “I’m sorry Mister, but I have a strict no kicking stranger’s cars policy. You’ll just have to kick Roger’s car yourself.” You shrug, as Bree grins beside you.

Bree rests her hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner, before directing her eyes on the man as well. “Is there any particular reason as to why Roger’s car should be the victim of such abuse?”

“Well, not to offend you both. But Roger is the reason as to why your band has the next few weeks booked to play here, instead of us.” He sighs, a half smile tugging at his lips. He looks far too exhausted to be out on a Friday night, stress from final exams likely putting a large amount of pressure on him, as with most of the other pub patrons. “He decided not to show up for a few of our gigs last month. The manager told us, that unless we could guarantee the whole band would be there, then he couldn’t book us anymore. Unsurprisingly, we couldn’t promise Roger’s being there, so our booking got cut.”

Tough blow you think to yourself, as you allow your arms to fall to your sides, fishing out your pack of smokes from your back pocket, retrieving one and sitting it between your lips, Bree passes you her lighter and, you inhale deeply as the flame kisses the end. “Sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation, I think we’re about to be out of luck soon too. Our lead guitarist is MIA.” You tap the ash off the end of your cigarette, watching it fall to the gravel beneath you. “What’s your band called? We tend to know most of the local university acts, I’m surprised we haven’t seen you around before.”

“Currently, we’re known as smile. Though there’s been talks of changing it to Queen. That is if Freddie has anything to say about it. I’m Brian by the way, my mother would have my head if she knew I didn’t introduce myself sooner!”

“Well Brian, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. But I really must get back to what I was doing and plotting our band mates murder.” You say lightly, gesturing to the car behind you.

Bree scowls at you, punching your shoulder lightly. “Whoa now, I said it was fine for you to kick things, not to murder people!”

“Sorry, it’s a fine line. Guess I crossed it.” You shrug, though you grin over at her, watching as she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Any chance I could get your names before I leave? You know, so I can keep an eye out for your band?” Brian asks, a slight nervous lilt to his voice.

You lift a quizzical eyebrow up at him, he seemed harmless enough, and from the sounds of things he understood your frustration on difficult band members. “I’m Y/N, and this is Bree. The band’s called, the midnight librarians.” You offer with a small smile.

“That’s bloody awesome.” Brian chuckles, as he turns on his heel and heads back towards the pub, stopping as he reaches the door. “I hope to see you around Y/N….” He smiles, before heading back inside.

“You have to marry him!” Bree declares, throwing her arm across your shoulder, as she steals the smoke from your lips, taking a long drag. “He’s gorgeous, plays in a band, lives somewhere near us. He’s perfect!”

“I like the fact that the only things on your check list to get married, are looks, job, and location… Besides, I’m busy plotting the perfect murder here. I can’t very well start planning a wedding.” You smirk, as Bree finishes off your cigarette, stamping out the butt on the ground. “Really though, what are we going to do tonight? Do we go on, just the two of us? Or do we just pack up and leave?”

Bree sighs deeply, running a hand across her forehead as she mulls over your words. “I suppose we could see how we go with just us?” She begins, before being cut off, once again by the back door slamming open.

“So sorry to intrude my darlings! But my dear Brian here,” The stranger takes a moment to gesture behind him, just as Brian emerges from the door, waving shyly. “Was just mentioning the predicament you have found yourselves in, and of course he didn’t think about mentioning it at the time, but he is our lead guitarist. A rather good one at that if I do say so myself. Perhaps he could help you out tonight?” The young man flounces around before both of you, his long hair bouncing around as he takes long strides. There’s an air of theatrics around him, and you can only imagine they type of stage presence he would have. “I’m Freddie, lead singing of Queen. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He smiles, bowing before the two of you.

“Oh, so the name change is official is it?” Brian chuckles, as he stands beside his bandmate, arms folding across his chest.

“Of course, it’s official, it’s perfectly outrages! Just like me!” Freddie decides, with a voice of finality.

You look at Bree, who has a matching look of unsureness etched across her features. “Not to be ungrateful, but how would Brian be able to help us? If you mean for him to play along side us, while the offer is very kind, he doesn’t know any of our songs. He’s never even heard of us before. He wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Bree offers with a shrug, watching as Freddie comes to a complete stand still in front of you both.

Freddie frowns deeply, looking between the two of you, and back at Brian, the cogs in his brain working on overdrive. “I’m sorry, what did you just say my dear?”

Bree blinks slowly over at Freddie, taking in his look of pure confusion. “I said that Brian doesn’t know our band or music.” She begins, before being cut off by a loud laugh from Freddie.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! Brian knows all about the midnight librarians, he’s been following your band for months now! He was the one who recommended your band to the manager, when he said he needed to replace us!” Freddie laughs, wiping a fake tear away from the corner of his eye.

You mouth drops at this revelation, turning your attention entirely on Brian now. “So, you do know us then?” You grin, resting your hands on your hips. Brian has the good decency to blush at having been called out.

“I saw you putting up flyers for the band a little while ago, I like to hear new music.” He shrugs lightly, lowering himself down to sit on one of the stairs bellow the backstage door. “I decided to check you guys out at one of your gigs, thought you sounded pretty damned good, and have been keeping an eye out for your other shows.”

“If by keeping an eye out, you mean going to every bloody show and dragging us along too!” Freddie yells across the parking lot. “No offence my dears, your music is wonderful!”

You stand over Brian now, resting your hip against the banister of the stairs. “So, you’ve been stalking us, have you?”

“If by stalking you mean going to your gigs like any other university student. Then yes, I’ve been stalking you.”

“He also said something about having a class with Y/N!” Freddie calls once again, causing Bree to laugh hysterically, and Brian to groan.

You can’t help but laugh, the poor man was being picked on mercilessly, and you loved it! “So, should I give you my bank details now or later?”

Brian groans, resting his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on his bony knees. “I swear I’m not a creep! It’s honestly just a coincidence we share a class. It’s only one as far as I’m aware, and I swear I don’t know anything else about you!” Brian pleads with you.

You grin down at him, before taking a seat beside him on the step. “Don’t stress Brian, I’m honestly quite flattered that you take the time out of your life to come and see us perform.”

“He also knows your favourite colour, your middle name, your dorm number, and where you like to go after class to get a coffee!” Freddie sings, as he leans against Bree’s car beside her, resting against the bonnet.

Brian glares across at his friend, Freddie waving merrily at him with a grin. “I can assure you, I know none of the above.”

“That’s a relief. If you did, I would have to call the police, I think! I’m sure they would have some questions for you.” You smirk, as you lean your forearms against your knees. “Do you think you would be able to play with us? I know it’s a huge ask, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t your idea. But you might very well be our only hope.”

Brian watches you intently, mulling over his next words. “I may not be perfect, but I can try my hardest. It won’t be exactly how it usually sounds, but I’m pretty good at picking things up on the fly.”

You nod in agreement, facing Bree across the way. “Alright Bree, we need to make a decision now, before we’re told to leave. Do we try our best with just us, accept Brian’s offer, or just call it quits?”

Neither of you want to let this night end badly, so the option of packing up and leaving is not your first preference. Besides, if you do leave now, you won’t get paid, and that really isn’t ideal. “If Brian thinks he can match us, then he’s in!” Bree finally answers, and you grin at her.

“Well Brian, it looks like you’ve got yourself a gig tonight. We’ve got the guitar all tuned up and ready to go, so she’s all yours.” You smile, as he stands up, reaching a hand down to you and pulling you up after him.

“Now just know this, lovely ladies, you cannot keep him! He’s my guitarist, and we will need him back eventually.” Freddie warns, a playfully serious look on his face, as the four of you make your way back inside of the pub.

“You’d better watch out Fred, I might like performing with them better than you lot. Might find yourself in the market for a new guitarist!” Brian smirks, as the three of you make your way onstage.

“Don’t you dare! We’re already struggling to find a bassist, don’t make us have to find a lead guitarist too!” Freddie cries dramatically from the wings of the stage. You only just manage to hear him from the noise of the audience, but you all get the general idea of what he’s saying.

As Freddie turns to leave, a young man walks up to him, a friendly smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he waves. “Hi, I’m John Deacon, I play bass.”

“You’re hired!” Freddie shrieks, as he grabs the young man’s wrist, and drags him towards the bar, leaving Brian to set up with his new friends.

The three of you get yourself ready quickly, everything having already been set up by you and Bree earlier in the evening. Brian takes a few moments to get the feel for the new guitar, though he quickly picks it up, and within minutes the three of you are ready to perform. “Alright Brian, just follow on as best you can! We can do this!” You grin, trying desperately to stay positive, despite the less than ideal situation you had found yourselves in. “One… Two… Three!” You cry, counting the band in, as you crash down on the drums, Bree chiming in on the bass and Brian following with a riff which is relatively close to what it should be. Bree belts out the lyrics you had worked hours on creating, as you sing along behind your drum kit, throwing your heart and soul into this set.

It takes a little while before the audience warms up to you, though soon enough everyone is moving along to the music, feeling the rhythm course through them. You grin happily, rather impressed with how quickly Brian had picked up on his role in the band, even if he was just a temporary stand in, you didn’t half mind performing with him. Somehow, he kept finding his way over to your drum kit, grinning at you as you pounded out the rhythm to your current song. Occasionally he would play it up for the audience, playing directly for them when a solo came up, but he would instantly find his way back to you. You play for a solid hour and a half, before you all decide it’s due time you take a much-needed beer break. “Thank everyone, we’ve been the midnight librarians, with special guest Brian May on guitar. We’ll be back soon!” Bree calls out through the microphone, as you all climb off stage, heading straight for the bar.

As you reach the bar, you spot Freddie speaking with two other men, one with flowing blonde locks and piercing blue eyes, the other a brunette, with a permanently cheerful expression etched upon his face. “You were wonderful darling’s! Truly wonderful!” Freddie grins, as he hands you and Bree each a beer, both of you taking large gulps instantly, you were parched, and the cold drink was ever so soothing. “Brian, come meet John, we’ll be auditioning him this week, he says he plays bass.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brian grins, shaking hands with the younger man.

The blonde man, looks over at you and Bree, grinning at the two of you. “You look pretty good out there, don’t sound half bad either.” He smirks, lifting his beer bottle to his lips and taking a drink. You glare at him, not at all liking how cocky he sounded. Though Bree smiles, a faint blush covering her cheeks.

“Thank you, I’m Bree, this is Y/N.” She offers the stranger, and you can’t resist rolling your eyes. Trust Bree to flirt with the first blonde haired, blue eyed floozy she meets at a pub.

“Roger Taylor, at your service.” The blonde grins, as he pushes past Freddie and John, to stand in between you and Bree.

Pursing your lips, you step aside, not really wanting to stand so close to the flirt fest that was occurring before you. “Is he always like this?” You ask, turning your attention to Brian, who could only chuckle in response.

“Just wait until he really gets started, he knows every pick-up line there is.” Freddie sighs, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Sounds like they’ll be perfect for each other then.” You mutter, noticing as Roger wraps his arm around Bree’s waist, stepping her away from the group. “Oi, blondie! We need her back in twenty!” You shout at them. Roger waves you off, while Bree nods at you in understanding. “Why do I get the nasty feeling we won’t be seeing her again tonight?”

Brian leans back against the bar, folding his arms over his chest loosely. “Oh no, he’ll bring her back as promised. Just not necessarily in the designated time period.”

“That really isn’t very reassuring Brian. Just want you to know that.” You grumble, shooting a glare over to the taller man. You look over to the young man stood beside Freddie and offer him a smile. “Hey there, John was it? I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

John grins back at you, a small gap between his two front teeth prominent as he looks at you. “Nice to meet you too. You three really are quite good out there! Mind me asking what happened to your regular guitarist?”

“Nothing that can be proven.” You mutter darkly, before laughing. “We’re currently going with, either dead or maimed. But until further news, we’re just speculating.”

John blinks at you, a look of shock and surprise written across his face. “Are you always this dark?” He asks, taking a swig from his beer. He looks too young to be drinking, and you would wager a guess on Freddie having bought the young man the drink.

“It’s one of my many charms, I’m able to be as dark and depressing as I would like, and still get away with it, because I’m cute as a button.”

“Can’t argue with the logic.” Brian chuckles from beside you, and you grin over at him, accepting the full beer he held out to you.

“Shouldn’t I be buying you drinks? Seeing as you rescued us from an impending doom?” You ask, though eagerly take another sip from the cold bottle.

Brian takes a moment to mull over you question. “You’re right, that’ll be 40p.” He grins, holding his hand out, palm up awaiting his payment. “Nah, how about you buy the next round?”

“I think I can mange that.” You grin, as you lean against the bar beside him. The night carries on with you discussing the latest albums with Brian, Freddie and John. What was supposed to be only a thirty-minute break, ended up being closer to an hour by the time Bree and Roger returned. Both looked a little bit worse for wear, hair in tangles, and Bree’s lipstick smeared across Roger’s lips and neck. No one mentions a thing though, you’re just thankful she had returned to finish the set.

The three of you kick off once more, throwing yourselves into the music, just as the audience did too. You finished off with a song which involved a type of audience participation, asking everyone to clap along to the chorus. It always sounded fantastic when an entire pub full of people were clapping in time to your drum beat, with just Bree’s vocals accompanying you. Brian watched from the side, grinning as he allowed the two of you to finish the song. He would be lying if he said he paid any attention to anyone but you in that moment.

After another few rounds at the bar, the crowd had dwindled dramatically, leaving just a dull roar over the jukebox, now playing the hits of the Beatles. You and Bree make your way back onto the stage, starting to pack up your instruments, dreading having to fit your entire drum kit back into Bree’s station wagon. It was a tight squeeze, yet somehow you managed to make it work. Brian reappeared beside you, grin as you look at him in surprise. “Let me give you a hand.” He offers gently.

You’re hardly able to say no, especially seeing as he had already picked up your bass drum and was walking with it towards the backstage exit. Grabbing your snare drum, you follow him out, ignoring Bree’s wolf whistle as she watches how quickly you run to catch up with him. You kick open the door, just as Brian reaches the car, carefully sliding the large drum into the back seat through the boot. “Thanks for your help, but you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ve loaded up my drums into this car more times than I can count.” You offer, as you come up behind him, waiting for him to move out of the way so you can slide the next piece of kit into the car.

“Is that your way of telling me I’ve over stayed my welcome?” Brian grins, turning to look down at you, as you move up next to him, with the next piece of the drum kit.

“What? No! That isn’t what I meant at all!” You gasp out. “I just meant, that you’ve already helped out so much tonight, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do more.” You stammer, looking anywhere but his eyes, which were focused intently on you.

“I’m not still here out of obligation. I’m here because I actually rather enjoy spending time with you, and I’m trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out on a date.” He smiles, a light blush colouring he cheeks.

You bite down on your bottom lip, before finally looking up at him, your eyes meeting instantly. Standing on your toes, you press a soft kiss against his lips, watching as his eyes flutter closed. It only lasts for a moment, as you’re soon interrupted by Freddie talking obnoxiously loudly with John. “And over there you’ll see Roger’s van, which is how we get around to all of our gigs. And if you look to your left, you will see our guitarist snogging the living daylights out of his new, special friend.”

Brian pulls away, resting his forehead against yours as he groans. “Trust Freddie to ruin the moment.”

“And who said this was going to go any further, hm?” You laugh, reaching forwards to rest your hand against his shoulder, rubbing small circles against it with your thumb.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that!” He quickly defends, though soon notices the playful look on your face. “I’m going to have to get used to sarcasm with you, aren’t I?”

You nod eagerly, grinning up at him. “You would be correct in thinking so!” Slowly you step away from Brian, removing your hand from his shoulder as you do so. “So, how about dinner on Tuesday?”

Brian smiles, running a hand through his hair as he watches you walk backwards away from him and the car. “Tuesday sounds wonderful.”

“Great! You can pick me up at seven!” You call over you shoulder, as you turn on your heel as skip up the stairs to the door once again, disappearing behind it.

“Wait!” Brian calls out, just before the door shuts. You pop your head back out, regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll need your address to be able to pick you up!”

You purse your lips for a moment, before laughing. “According to Freddie, you already know where I live!”

“You know for a fact that I don’t!” Brian protests, his hands falling to his side I defeat, as Freddie laugh maniacally from Roger’s van.

“Well Brian, that sounds like a problem you’ll have to figure out! See you Tuesday!” You call merrily, as the door shuts behind you with a sense of finality, leaving Brian stood in the carpark, glaring daggers at the lead singer.

Read Chapter Two

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primedirection · 5 years

Text

Homecoming

In which things don't go as planned

Warnings: A lil angst & a lil fluff mentions of panic attack

AN: Kinda did this one for me idk.. Hope you like it anyway!

(Uce- Samoan for brother. Sounds like oose)

Harry wasn't coming home.

He'd been away for three months this time and it seemed to be the hardest. Promises of coming home were thrown around left and right so much it lost it's merit. It was supposed to be his last week two weeks ago and yet he was still needed all over the place for reasons she lost track of. Hosting for James Corden, Album teaser promos, Gucci photo shoots, music video location scouting, auditions and so on and so forth. So busy that at best she was lucky she got a text of recognition or a FaceTime session every other week.

Honestly she tried not to fault him for it, not to hold it against him. She understood more than anyone what his career meant to him and how hard he worked to achieve his goals and dreams. Truly a blessing and a curse all at once. But once the disappointment hit it, it hit and took it's tole.

For right now she was done dealing with it.

She'd been so fed up of being alone and having no one to talk to in person that she requested the week off from work and sent for tor nephews to come visit. The same week of vacation time she'd been planning to use to visit Harry on the road. But decided that she'd only be a distraction to him during the short moments she did get to see him. The boys were out for the summer anyway and thanks to the overwhelming Facebook post of their mother, she knew they all could use a break.

From the moment that they stepped inside the departure terminal she realized that she had made the right decision. Bombarded with affection from all directions the second they were close enough. The relief practically consuming her. It was all quite surreal since she practically helped raise them. Like just yesterday she was changing their diapers for extra cash on the weekends so that their parents date nights could ensue. Now here they are teenage heartbreakers bragging about their own personal lives.

As the week went by things only got better. For once the massive house was filled with endless laughter and the type of love that came without judgment and ridicule. Unconditional love. That alone created a joy so pure that the evilest intentions couldn't spoil it. Something she honestly hasn't felt in a while. The atmosphere was almost magical whenever either of their families visited and this time was no different.

This was exactly what the doctor ordered and a complete win-win situation. Because while she gave them something to somewhat brag about to all their friends back home (via pictures with their beloved uncle's Mustang) they gave her enough peace of mind to stop checking her phone every 30 seconds, nonetheless throughout the entire day. To the point she felt comfortable enough to turn it off. Thanks to the hyperactive bunch most nights sleep found her first since the boys turned out to be a handful in the best way.

Or so she thought.

When it was their final day she decided to go all out. An early trip to The Grove to spoil them rotten, as any elected favorite auntie would. Then retired back home to fire up the grill for dinner while the two full-blown teenagers made their last rounds of projecting themselves like missiles inside the pool.

"Heyyy, unless y'all want to find out how edible chlorine is y'all better chill out!" She shouted playfully over her shoulder when a particular splash reached far enough to soak her from the waist down. ”Now out of the water so we can eat!" She retreated back inside the house followed by a chorus of disappointed 'AWWWWWs'.

"Good to see you're 'avin fun," Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen nearly made her scream. So divulged in burger making she never noticed him. Short hair a mess from his incessant hand's tousling, everything about him was hard and only amplified by the bags resting under his eyes.

Though by the look on his face and his tone she wasn't sure how to feel. The impulsive urge to rush over and enrapt him in over due love was killed when she felt the energy around him. Clearly he was upset. So she gently tested the waters, "When did you get back?"

"You'd know if you read at least one of my fuckin' messages," Harry was pissed and right now her oblivion to it only made it worse as he silently noted that she didn't rush to greet him as he had expected.

They were both stubborn to a fault sometimes, this one being one of them. And while he had his passive aggressive moments she had her combative confronting moments to match them. Thus why disagreements often turned into war zones.

In her eyes he had absolutely no right to be this angry, "You mean the one you send every other week? Sorry, didn't know I was supposed to wait every got damn second by the phone for a chance you might get the urge to call me!"

"S'not like you couldn't call me. Guess I'm not much of priority to you when I'm across the world am I? Much less having a panic attack," That's not at all what he wanted to say. He honestly didn't even mean it. But sometimes, very rarely, he spoke without thinking. Though every single one of those times his words were purposely reckless, usually with the intent of pushing buttons. Which in this case happened to be several of hers.

There was so many things wrong with his rebuttal that it frazzled her, "Panic attack?!"

"Yeah. Tha' thing where you can't breathe and it really feels like you're dying," his attitude was in full force as he elaborated.

Her eyes narrowed in a glare, "How was I supposed to know that would happen when I finally try and distract myself?"

"There's a difference between distracting yourself and flat out ignoring me,"

"So now it's my fault that you don't know when to fucking quit? One more week.. one more week.. Jeff says this Jeff says that blah blah blah!" She mocks his voice angrily. "Do you ever even think of how hard it is for me when you're gone? You've got hundreds of people constantly around you and I'm just here alone in this big ass house-"

"Fuck this!" He groans utterly aggravated, pivoting on his heels to storm out. The past three days had felt like the worst of his life and she was totally none the wiser. Even now as he struggled to keep afloat, to keep his head above water she only seemed interested in knocking him down.

"Fuck what? Fuck me? Is that what you're saying?" She demanded hurt, meanwhile in his mind he knew she was seeing nothing but red.

At that response he knew this was going nowhere fast, definitely nowhere good anyway. He couldn't talk to her when she was like this, angry beyond reason where even the most innocent things rub her the wrong way.

"Uce?!" As soon as he was noticed they both knew the argument was temporarily over. Long ago she had indulged Harry of their dysfunctional childhood due to the immaturity of their parents, and sworn to always provide safe spaces for them. So for everyone's sake she quickly left the room, using her soiled clothes as an excuse.

Harry may not have been in any mood to host but managed to allow his anger to dissipate when he was pulled into welcoming hugs. He loved her family, especially her nephews. The respect and regard they had for her was daunting and unparalleled. Upon first meeting them, at thirteen and fourteen years old they laid into him better than any father ever could or ever had. Especially since hers passed away when she was young. So profoundly protective there was no surprise on his end when they shared their plan of walking her down the aisle to give her away someday. Though now they were in every way his family without marriage. "We thought you were taking over the world again Uce, what happened?"

Uce, a nickname that was lovingly given to him by the entirety of her family because of his thick accent whenever he said the word 'us'. Endearing enough to immediately strip him of any and all ill feelings. "Not happy to see me?" He teased knowing full well just how much they adored him in return. Proven when they both erupted in offense bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Uhhh... she's cool, or whatever but even when we're having fun she's still intense," the younger of the brothers informed pointing in the direction she disappeared in.

"And she doesn't have the keys, Uce! She doesn't have the keys!" The elder of the two wailed in true melodramatic fashion.

"Keys?" Harry queries with a frown and yet amused, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest patiently waiting to be clued in on their slang. "Keys to wha'?"

"You know, the Audi.. The girls... How do we get into one of those wild model parties where they do org-"

"Boy the next word out of your mouth better be organization! And you need to be talking about the keys to passing your college entry exams!" She yells on her way upstairs. She'd be so happy when the girl craze phase was over for them, and it couldn't come soon enough.

"See what I mean?" The younger of the two mutters through a mouth full of food shaking his head and Harry started to laugh. He'd never be able to convey how much he missed them when they weren't around. Just them being there almost made him forget he was angry to begin with. Almost. "Anyway you never answered my question?"

Harry sighs heavily suddenly exhausted, "Didn't feel well,"

Sparking even more questions from the two young boys, "Don't you have doctors that travel with you for that?" Snowballing to a squabble even, "Is it contagious?" "Dude!" "I'm just saying, I have football practice when we get back I can't afford to be sick,"

Chuckling despite himself Harry shook his head, "No mate, was a panic attack. Jus' need some rest, been going non stop,"

Both their faces dropped with worry, "Whoa. You okay Uce? I mean is it cool we're here?"

Harry nodded reassuringly, "M' getting there," honestly adding, "Thanks to you lot. Actually wish I'd been here the whole time, s' been awhile since I've seen you last,"

The eldest made a nonchalant noise, "We'll be visiting again soon don't worry. Especially when you start touring for real, the ladies need me,"

"Mate, have you ever heard of quality over quantity? That is the biggest key,"

"Yeah just now, and look who you're with. The biggest control freak of them all,"

Although Harry wasn't totally thrilled with her he had to admit, "It's actually quite sexy when she's not being a pain in the arse,"

"Bruh, I'm eating!" The younger brother snarled and Harry laughed at that. God, he loved them. Practically the little brothers he's always wanted. That feeling in particular struck remembrance inside him, remembrance of what brought on the panic attack in the first place.

He wasn't happy. Sure his professional life was thriving since business was booming, but his relationship suffered the most because of it. These days he was hardly ever home, barely even had the time to make phone calls and the realization scared him. Not once did she complain but he wasn't blind to the fact she was slowly but surely slipping from his grasp. Whether or not her cold shoulder had been intentional over the past week it shook him down to the core. So many of his previous relationships ended like that, with them losing the will to fight for him. Not that he was putting in the same effort back then and he had the worst habit of blaming them for it anyway. Hince the incident a little while ago. But that was the absolute last thing he wanted for them. It just wasn't worth it.

Harry wanted romantic vacations, joint family holidays, anniversary parties, babies! Lots and lots of babies...

A distinct warning pang in his chest made him realize he had to take advantage of the boy's presence while he could. Glancing over his shoulder, he listened hard to make sure the shower was running, "Since we're on the topic I need to talk you lads about something,"

"If it's about your sex life please don't,"

"Relax if I wanted to torture you I'd left you with her. I'm talking about tour. I've been thinking and after this week I'm not sure I want to do it. Like anymore.. Or well at least for right now anyway,"

"Please don't do this to me, I'll finally be old enough to get in the club by the end of this year!" The elder boy whined and the younger smacked the side of his head annoyed.

"Dude shut up he's serious! Anyway... Why not?"

Harry was filled with nerves deciding to break it down nice and easy, "Remember what you told me when we first met?"

"Yeah, 'why are your jeans so tight'? To be honest I'm still wondering...that can't be good for you." The eldest teased.

"Not tha'," Harry chuckled rolling his eyes.

A lightbulb seemed to go off in the mind of the youngest, "Oh, that we're a packaged deal and anything you want with her has to be run through us first,"

Harry took a deep breath nodding in confirmation, "Well, man to man...to man. I think you've had long enough to feel me out. Have I earned your blessings to become your official uncle?"

"Let me get this straight, you want to skip a worldwide tour and a chance to make millions more to get married? Weddings aren't all that much fun,"

"To get married, to go on a honeymoon, and to start making your baby cousins," Harry clarified.

"I'm more so concerned at you not knowing you already had it. We wouldn't have let her move in if we didn't,"

"Yeah Uce, we've all been wondering what the hell is taking so long. Especially grandma, she's been super suspicious of your Aquarius nature," the older boy teased and both boys laughed apparently there was an inside joke he wasn't aware of.

"To be fair I was waiting for your aunt to say something. Guess she's not much of a control freak like we thought huh?" Harry muttered stealing fries from both their plates.

"Yeah right, do you have a ring?" The younger asked as he shielded his plate from Harry's invasion.

"Still having it made," he confessed a little embarrassed.

"Well don't pop it out without us!"

Harry snorted, "Mate, I'd never dream of it," and from the bottom of his heart he meant it.

After everyone showered, the final movie night had progressed rather smoothly. Horror was the only genre the boys would focus on, though it probably had something to do with all the topless scenes in them. Nevertheless she picked this one; 'Wrong Turn' easily one of her favorites.

To her surprise before it started Harry came in the room, dressed in a loose gray T-shirt and navy basketball shorts. Earning a round of cheers from his ever adoring audience. He sat in the row of plush recliners directly behind the boys and it kind of hurt her feelings since she was in the one in front of them. "S' your last night here where else would I be?"

For a long beat of a moment they both exchanged wary glances before drifting back to the screen in front of them. Though in reality she was hardly paying attention. Her curiosity peaked through the roof at just what it took to get him to join. Mostly because, she knew better than anyone when Harry was in a bad mood he isolated himself. But just now he didn't seem to be the slightest bit hostile. Then again she shouldn't be too surpised given he was just another giant kid to them.

Against her better judgment she spared another look just to find him already staring at her. A dimple sinking in one cheek as the corner of his lips tug in a reluctant smile. In turn making her belly swell with butterflies of relief. She also became painfully aware of the distance between them and hated it.

Before she even had time to process the idea of swallowing her pride, she was up out of her seat with her blanket wrapped around her. She could've easily sat in either of the seats beside him but that still wasn't close enough. "Truce?" She whispered pouting guiltily, waving the tag of her soft throw blanket like a flag.

But apparently she wasn't as quiet as she thought, "Wait, you guys are fighting?" Both boys were turned around in their seats, eyes ping ponging back and forth between them worried. Ultimately falling on her, "What did you do?"

"If you don't mind your own business I swear to God you're going to the airport tonight!" She warned icily and that quickly got them to turn back around.

At first Harry doesn't say anything, he simply reclines his seat further back and readjusts his legs to make room for her. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief. Springing into action, she climbed in next to him sitting with her legs draped over his lap tenting them both in warmth. From there they practically melted into one another her chest to his front, stealing kisses and touches they'd been deprived of. Silent apologies in a way, but just in case she said it aloud, "I'm sorry H," tucking her face into the crook of his neck. The closer she was the better she felt. "Should've been there for you."

"S' okay love me too, I should've been here," he sighed holding on tighter.

"Well we're all here now so can we watch the movie please?" The eldest brother chimed.

She started to swat him in the head from behind until Harry caught her wrist and laughed, "Sorry lads won't happen again," figuring there was a better way to make it up to her quietly. Confusion was blatantly on her face up until Harry stealthily slipped his hand under her shirt, sliding upwards tortuously slow. To stifle her impatience she kissed him deep then. But before she could receive the pleasure of the taste of his lips properly Harry stiffened, and not in the place she wanted him to.

Eyes peeling back open Harry's smirk was sheepish and directed to the front. Met with a grimace, "Ugh puhleeease don't be that couple!" And a glare, "Yeah, I really don't want to be in the room when my baby cousin is conceived,"

She rolled her eyes, "Tuh, it's only fair. I was right next door when both of you were." Kissing him again and causing an over the top show of dry heaving and gagging.

"Uce, c'mon man make it stop!"

Harry merely smiled finally feeling like all was right in the world again. "Gotta keep it fresh lads, it's key."

#Harry styles angst #Harry styles imagines #Harry x reader #Harry styles #one direction imagines #Harry Styles one shot #One direction one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #all me #I write I guess

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roonilwazlibb · 5 years

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KEIYNAN LONSDALE? No, that’s actually HARRY JAMES POTTER from the GOLDEN TRIO ERA. You know, the child of LILY POTTER (NEE EVANS) and JAMES POTTER? Only 22 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as an AUROR (FOR NOW) and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as CIS MALE and is a HALF BLOOD who is known to be MERCURIAL, BULLHEADED, and PRIVATE but also EMPATHETIC, BOLD, and SELFLESS. — &&. ( LIZ, GMT+2, SHE/HER, 22. )

pinterest.

Instead of writing the longest intro possible I’m just gonna ignore Harry’s background BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW IT ALREADY !!!!!!!!!! thx

depression tw, death tw, war tw, PTSD tw

AFTER HOGWARTS.

So, the war is over ( a war that Harry has grown up fighting, mind you, the boy hasn’t had time for much else, has he now ? ) and people look to a teenager to continue being what he has been for the last seventeen years ( but what they’ve also rejected, when it suits the current tide of war ). But Harry James Potter doesn’t care much for being a beacon of hope ( of clarity, of light ), anymore. He’s not their symbol ( but at the same time, he knows that he will always be just that ).

The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts itself is a blur, for him. Tugged in every direction. Not so much a man, more of an object, something that his entire world feels entitled to. But he’s exhausted ( has he been able to breath properly for the last year, at all ? ). It’s too much for any seventeen year old, yet people expect him ( the boy who lived, never just Harry ), to carry it with gratitude, with a smile, with bravery.

The days after the final battle, he feels very little, barely anything at all. All he really does is sleep.

The mark on his back is gone ( the one on his face isn’t ), but it doesn’t feel like it. Sure, he doesn’t have to fear for his life anymore, but the crowds are relentless. Suffocating him. He’s grieving, and all the masses ( the strangers, people who think that they know him because he’s famous ) want to do is hug him, shake his hand, clap him on the back. He tries to be understanding ( they’re grieving too, logically, he KNOWS that ). But by now, Harry is growing a little bit tired of being everyone’s emotional-support-boy-who-lived.

Anyways, a few weeks after the war ends, Harry falls off the map. Disappears from the grid. Could not be found, through any means. Some of his friends say that he rented a muggle car and drove through Europe. Others say that he just slept, refused to leave his house, so exhausted and depressed that he couldn’t be reached. Others are firm in their belief that he was busy hunting down the last of the Death Eaters. No one truly knows what Harry did, during those months. Only those closest to him have a vague idea.

He eventually returns, a little bit better. The weight on his shoulders lighter. Back to his former self ( though, he’s not quite sure who that was, this war has tried to consume him since boyhood ). His smile comes easier, it’s less weary. He has that Potter sparkle back in his gaze ( the one that makes his eyes look less like Lily’s, more likes James’, despite what the color might tell you ). He’s not at peace yet, but he will be ( his scar hasn’t hurt in months, that’s a start ).

Harry finds solace in his friends, that much has not changed. It was them he fought for, and it’s them that he continues to live for. The war never changed Harry’s capacity for love.

So, he’s back. People still look to him ( and they think that they know what he will do, ALWAYS always, always ). He can’t escape their eyes, their whispers, how they think that they know him. Most of the time, he hates it. But he’s also the type of guy to poke fun at it, doing his best to not take himself too seriously. Everything’s easier, that way.

Maybe he does it out of habit, or out of duty, but he does what he thinks will make the most people happy and joins the Aurors ( they had been nudging him in their direction ever since Voldemort fell, who wouldn’t want the famous Harry Potter in their ranks against the dark? ).

But Harry is just Harry, and Harry is so tired of being Harry Potter. For the first year after the war, the poor guy could barely go out for a drink without being mobbed, you know? The excitement eventually ebbed out ( thank god ) and became less exhausting, but it was still there, in smaller waves.

ANYWAYS ---- so he’s an auror. He doesn’t hate the work by any means, but he feels as though he has just gone from fighting one war, to fighting another. Which is really the last thing he needs right now? He still suffers from night terrors, about his friends dying, about Voldemort ( not so much Voldemort as other people remember him ----- in his dreams, Harry sees the Voldemort in limbo, at King’s Cross ). Eventually, those will go away too. Partly.

The Wizarding Wars have taken a lot of things away from Harry, and for that he is silently angry, a little bit, all the time. The war he fought may have ended —— but it’s still taking things from him. His agency, for one thing. Did he want to become an auror? Well, it would have been ONE possible path, but perhaps not the one he would have chosen first. Ever since the war, everyone just keep looking to him, to have him continue being the symbol of hope and greatness that he was during the last year of the war. But Harry is just Harry, you know? Not much has changed since that evening when Hagrid came to get him, all those years ago. But people just assume to know what The Chosen One will do next, and Harry’s just sort of…. along for the ride, for the most part, when it comes to that and his public image. Right now, he is just doing what he thinks is right, for the greater good. He does what he thinks is expected of him, what he thinks will make the most people happy. He’s not thinking of himself, at least not yet. I don’t think Harry even realizes that he has grown resentful, a little bit bitter, angry.

With that said, I really like the idea of post-war Harry as the biggest troll possible when it comes to the media. All those ridiculous rumors you read in the papers about The Boy Who Lived are often started by Harry himself !!!! It’s his way of gaining some of that agency back but also he just thinks it’s a fucking blast.

Constant bad jokes about how 'he didn’t die for this’ and ‘did we really defeat Voldemort so that you could’.... are PRIME coping mechanisms too!!!!

Never actually finished school but totally got away with it because he’s Harry Potter. Finally some perks, am I right.....

Overall, Harry IS concerned with being a good role model for the younger kiddos, but that year after the war? Harry was in a dark place, not fit for returning to school. Not fit for returning to anything, really.

Harry is a really good teacher and we ALL know this, so why isn’t this man teaching? It would be much better for his mental health too. Damn it.

With that said ----- I think this version of Harry will either continue down the auror route, eventually become head auror, but devote his life more to teaching the new aurors and reshape the auror department. BUT I have also always adored the idea of Harry returning to Hogwarts as a professor, taking up the position as the Defense against Dark Arts professor. We love full circles in this house !!!! I also think that would be really good for Harry, to be surrounded by kids ( who wouldn’t have really lived through the war, the boy who lived would just be a myth to them, it would be less dramatic, they’d soon forget that Harry has ever been anything other than their professor ).

Never really replaced Hedwig. These days, Harry uses various messenger birds and owls, mostly borrowing those of his friends. He did adopt a dog, though.

I don’t think Harry will be fully at peace until more time has run its course. He has been through so much trauma, way more than any man ( much less a boy ) should ever have to experience. The scars may fade ( no, not THAT one ), but they will never quite heal, not for him. BUT he will be at peace, eventually.

TLDR: Harry is an auror, right now. He hasn’t washed off his past, but he has come to terms with it, in a way.

PERSONALITY & OTHER FUN STUFF.

Harry Potter is compassionate, selfless, kind. Good at seeing the good. But also petty, impulsive, seething, moody. Bad at letting things go.

So incredibly brave, but shouldn’t have had to be? An eleven year old should not under any circumstances be led into the lion’s den and that’s that on that.

Has a hero complex, but it’s one that was forced upon him ( do not get me started on Albus Dumbledore, it will take up the rest of the intro ). Harry was LITERALLY just Harry, until suddenly, he wasn’t.

The sheer dumb bitch energy of this man sometimes....... Thank god for Ron and Hermione is all I’m gonna say.......

Masks a lot of his trauma and pain with bad jokes, sarcasm and a seemingly carefree attitude. Tries his best to play down a lot of things ( his pain, his fame, his trauma, what he did during the war ). But he has a really serious streak too.

With that said, Harry does struggle with PTSD and survivor’s guilt.

A total smart ass ( there’s no need to call me sir, professor? ). Harry has a sharp tongue aND is often much sassier than he should be, especially when challenged / when he sees something as unjust / when there’s someone that he just doesn’t like. But that sharpness can seep into his everyday life too.

Like I mentioned earlier, Harry is a total troll and will leak the most outrageous rumors that have 0% truth to them to the press. It’s all in good fun. Most of the time.

Honestly that thing Dan Radcliffe did when he wore the same shirt everyday for a month so that the pictures of him would all be un-usable is peak Harry behavior.

Harry would ultimately LIKE to forgive the remaining Death Eaters, the ones who has repented ( eg. The Malfoys ), but he is having a hard time with it. He is prone to spite and pettiness, and forgiveness ultimately doesn’t run easy in his veins. But the attempt IS there, and he doesn’t want to live with a sliver of bitterness in his heart, you feel?

The war hasn’t so much hardened him though, as it has softened him. Sure, it has made him weary, careful, closed off. But it has also made him kinder, more empathetic, more understanding, stronger in his sense of self.

Isn’t as rich as he used to be. Used a large chunk of his fortune after the war to help victims of the war to get back onto their feet. Anonymously of course. Harry has no desire to make headlines, ever again.

Refuses interviews. Most of the time. Only The Quibbler will get an ounce of truth out of Harry.

TIME CLASH.

Harry has always had a family ( a found family, his friends, family doesn’t end in blood ), but suddenly everything has been amplified, he has his parents back, his godfather, their friends. But they’re all his age, they don’t recognize him ( but he barely recognize them, either ---- if it hadn’t been for staring himself blind at their photographs, he wouldn’t know them ). It’s basically like The Erised Mirror Extreme Version, for Harry.

But there are also The Death Eaters ------- and the fear of having to go back, be the figurehead of yet another war that he has to sacrifice EVERYTHING for. Frankly, Harry has had quite enough. He doesn’t want to be their Atlas, anymore. But at the same time, his parents are back. And he doesn’t want to lose them again. AND he knows that they’d fight this war for him. Which makes him want to fight this war for them. Can you see where I’m going for this? It’s a really tumultuous time for Harry, he’s confused and just a little bit lost.

AND then there are the KIDS !!!!!! HIS KIDS !!!!!!!!! It’s a total mind fuck, Harry doesn’t feel ready to be a father, nor does he feel that the world is ready for him to have children. But his children are all grown up and from the future. He wants to protect their future, their peace.

It’s a little bit selfish too. Harry wants that peace for himself. He wants all to be well, you know?

#quantum intro #this is my MESSIEST intro yet #ha

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starlessskies94 · 5 years

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Mrs Morgan (Arthur/FReader)

I took the plunge and finally wrote a reader/Arthur oneshot! Was it a mistake? Probably. Is it any good? Probably not. Do I regret it? Nah!

So this is obviously based off of the fishing trip with little Jack from the game but I've changed some things around. I hope it's okay as I still not 100% confident with reader inserts. Part two will be posted soon and will feature Arthur. Hope you guys enjoy!

As a young girl, you never thought you ever would’ve lived such a life as you had. On the run from the law after committing numerous crimes, you hadn’t thought twice about for the sake of a big payout. Living out in the wilderness with a gang that welcomed you among them; to the point you had eventually become family.

Robbing and scamming your way through the country with them as the years passed by. Well and truly proving yourself as a valuable member to Dutch and Hosea.So it wasn’t a surprise when you married Arthur; the two of you taking more jobs together; to the point your protective bond had blossomed into something more.Most had expected it sooner or later, and couldn’t have been happier the day you came back to camp with the news that you were finally man and wife.

Then Blackwater had happened and you’d never been more afraid to lose your husband than you had been in the weeks following the massacre.

When you reached Horseshoe Overlook, it had been a moment to take a much needed sigh of relief. The camp itself was beautiful, peaceful and had a breathtaking view over the cliff edge. You’d stayed along with the other women making the camp as homey as possible while the men scoped out the town and Dutch contemplated your next move. You could sense the strain it was taking on Arthur though; riding out every couple of days to take care of job after job. Fetching an endless supply of things people had requested. But knowing your husband as you did watching him doing everything with a courteous contented smile; you knew deep down he needed a break. Which was why, you practically jumped at the opportunity to spend some time away when Abigail had quietly asked if you both minded taking Jack out for a while. At first it had started with the idea of a simple fishing trip but you managed to convince her to let you take the young boy on a camping trip for the night. With the promise of not traveling too far away from camp. Just far enough away to give you all the quiet you’d all craved in the busy chaotic weeks it had taken to get to your new spot.

So you’d watched from afar as Jack; sat just in front of his Uncle Arthur, playing with the mare’s wispy mane by the top of her withers as you rode down the path towards the woodland by the river. When you found the perfect spot, you both made quick work of hitching the horses to graze, pitching the tent and lighting the campfire while Jack picked the flowers he found by the tree stumps. Watching his Aunt and Uncle darting back and forth with childish amusement on his little face. Arthur had promised to teach him how to fish the next morning; though the boy hadn’t seemed all that excited about it. But you had a feeling once he’d gotten the hang of it, it might be quite fun for him to learn a new skill. As the evening settled in, you realized foolishly you’d forgotten to bring anything for your supper and Jack’s stomach was growling loud enough for you both to hear. Fortunately Arthur had brought his bow and rifle offering to ride out to catch something. You’d protested at first; worried about being left to watch over Jack by yourself. You loved the little boy as you would your own but that didn’t mean you didn’t doubt your skills when it came to motherly instincts. It somewhat surprised you when Arthur expressed his unshaken confidence in your abilities however and you were left rather speechless as the Outlaw rode off further down into the forest leaving you and Jack alone. As the sun began to set; you admired the beautiful rays of light that were slowly dying away behind the horizon. “Aunt Y/N, when is Uncle Arthur coming back?” Jack piped up. “I’m so hungry.” You smiled taking a seat beside him at the roaring fire. “Aw don’t worry Jack; I'm sure he won’t be long...” The sudden rustling in the trees caught your attention as you pulled Jack closer; as first you suspected it to be Arthur on his way back but you quickly realized...you were very wrong. “What a fine young man, and in such complex circumstances.” Keeping your hand firmly on Jack's shoulder, you gently guided him behind you as you glared at the well dressed men slowly pacing towards you. “Y/N...right? Y/N L/N? Or is it Morgan now?” The man smirked menacingly. “What do you want? Who are you?” You snapped. “We’re looking for someone actually...your husband as a matter of fact.” He stood back; placing a hand on chest before gesturing to the man beside him. “Agent Milton; Agent Ross. Pinkerton Detective Agency.” As you took a closer look at the men in their well made suits, it was then you noticed the badges pinned to their jackets and your stomach dropped at the revelation. You needed to get rid of these men before Arthur got back to camp and you needed to do it quickly. Milton strode forward, his hand coming to rest upon his holstered pistol. You weren’t sure if he was planning to use it but you were damn sure you’d use yours if the situation called for it. “See Mrs Morgan; your husband is a wanted man. Five thousand dollars for his head alone.” “Jesus five thousand dollars?” You mocked with bitter smile. “Well I’m sure if he were here; he’d offer to turn himself in for that kinda money. But I don’t know where he is; I haven’t seen him since Blackwater.” Milton chuckled but his laugh was both cold and humorless. “Now we both know that’s not true Mrs Morgan, I think you know exactly where your husband is and you’re protecting him.” He accused. “Which is fine; it is after all, a wife’s duty to protect her husband but what if I told you, you could truly save him.” You were ashamed to admit that your interest was peaked at the offer. Your curiosity getting the better of you. “What do you mean?” Milton’s brows twitched and you noticed the faint curl of his lip as he began to smile; clearly believing he’d caught you at your weakness. “See... thing is Mrs Morgan; I’m not interested in Arthur or anyone else in that band of degenerates you’ve chosen to run with! I just want Van Der Linde! You tell your husband; wherever he may be, to bring me Dutch and you have my word that he will not swing.” He concluded. And you could tell by the conceited gleam in his darkened eyes that the man truly believed you were going to take the deal and sell both Dutch and Arthur out. But this man didn’t know you and he sure as hell didn’t know what you were capable of. Your blood was already boiling at them having to gall to ambush you like this and you could feel Jack trembling behind you from the fear these strange men had caused. Maybe this was motherly instinct after all. Because the urge to slaughter the men before you was quickly rising. “Oh my husband won’t swing anyways. You see, he hasn’t done anything wrong! Aside from not play the games to your rules.” You hissed back much to Milton’s obvious disappointment. “Well that is a shame Mrs Morgan.” He said bluntly, his associate Agent Ross slowly raising his rifle to aim at you and Jack. “And here I thought a fine woman like yourself could be reasoned with; course one might question your judgment in the first place, seeing as you’ve chosen to tie yourself to a degenerate murderer like Morgan.” He shared a mocking chuckle with Ross and in that moment you broke; pulling your pistol from your hip and aiming it straight at Milton's head. “You enjoy being a rich man’s toy do ya?! Take your offer and your buddy here and go to hell!” Your eyes burned with pure hatred as you glared at him; your other arm protectively wrapped around Jack as the boy sniffled away silent tears. And you were more than prepared to kill these men if you needed to; fortunately Milton seemed to get the message loud and clear as he raised his hands in a mocked surrender. “Oh we're leaving Miss don't you worry. But know this; Your husband is a savage and he will die savagely. You all will! Good day Mrs Morgan. Pleasure speaking with you.” You felt your resolve begin to crack as they mounted and turned, riding away. Keeping cool long enough until they were out of sight, dropping your gun to the ground and falling to you knees to hug Jack close. “Who were those men Aunt Y/N?” He whispered, quivering with fear in your arms. With your heart breaking; you lifted the boy into your arms and carried him towards your tent. Your fingers softly stroking his back to soothe him. “Ain’t nobody Jack....you don’t have to worry about them okay?”

You kneeled slowly, letting Jack wrap himself up in the blanket you'd brought for him, your fingers tentatively reaching out to wipe away his stray tears. You didn't know where Arthur had gotten too, but you prayed that he was okay.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption fandom #red dead spoilers #reader insert #fanfiction #starlessskies writes

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writerofmanyfandoms · 5 years

Text

Just Kiss Me Already

Summary: Requested!Anakin SkywalkerxReader! Modern AU. You have had the longest crush on Anakin Skywalker(since high school), and you fear that since the two of you are in college that you lost your chance. Will you be able to confess your feelings to him, or be doomed to hide them away?

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 2900

Warnings: fluffy, mentions of alcohol, adult language, mentions of streaking, mentions of sex

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Hope all is well! Sorry for such a long break! Things have been so hectic! I also had so much unneeded trouble trying to get this story out! Lmao. I work Friday 2/22 and Saturday 2/23, so I won’t be around those days. For sure I will be back on the 24th! I had so much fun writing this, and I love writing for Anakin. I have another Anakin story coming soon that was requested! Thank you for being patient with the request, I understand that it has been a hot minute! But I see them, I love them, and I want more! Feel free to send me ideas, I write for a multiple list of Fandoms!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or the characters. Also, I do not own this GIF, found on GIPHY

You were relaxing on the soft grass, a soft blanket beneath you and your opened laptop a foot away. Class had gotten out an hour ago, but you were stuck working on a project. The hot sun, cool breeze, and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees made you doze off. You couldn’t help it, relaxing nights of sleep were far and few between, and you didn’t see the harm in resting your eyes for a minute.

“Y/N! Hey, it sure looks like you’re studying hard.” A familiar voice teases, the warmth of the body being felt as he sat beside you, causing you to sit up.

“In my defense Anakin, I was up all night working on my political science essay.” You told him, leaning over and shutting your laptop.

“Well, do you think you could spare me some time tonight? Padme is having a party at her place and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Even though he knew you would probably say no, he still wanted to ask. He never knew you may surprise him one day by saying yes. You couldn’t help it though. College had so much going on, and you had to stay on top of your grades or you would lose your scholarship. You gave him a look, and sort of shrugged your shoulders. If you could, you would roll your eyes at the thought of Padme inviting him over.

In all honesty, you liked Padme. She was fierce, confident, nice, and down to earth. The only problem was that Anakin had seemed smitten with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was gorgeous, and the way she could speak to a room sort of terrified you, but in a good way. If only you had been able to tell him sooner, but that was something to process at a different time.

“I don’t know. I have this project due Monday, and I want to make sure it is perfect. We have to debate our political opinion and I feel like I have so much to prepare for.” You told him, looking away to avoid his eyes.

Those damned beautiful eyes. Just looking into them would cause you to cave, and you knew it. And if he smiled, you would surely be a sucker. It wasn’t as if you liked pining away for him from afar, but it was all you could do. You weren’t the type of person to broadcast your feelings, and have no shame in speaking up. You weren’t Padme, and that was why you feared Anakin did not return those feelings.

“Come on, what if I help prepare your speech on Saturday? Please.” Anakin near pleaded, causing you to look up at him.

That was it that was all that it took to cause you to cave.

“Fine Anakin. But you better be at my apartment by 10:00 AM with Starbucks!” You told him, smiling like an idiot when you saw his face light up.

“Thank you so much, I have been getting kind of bored taking just Obi-Wan lately. I will pick you up tonight around 8! I will text you before I get there.” Anakin said, jumping up, giving you a quick hug.

“You woke me up from my peaceful nap for just that? A text would have sufficed.” You teased, hiding the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“I know, but I would have rather seen you! I’ll see you tonight!” He called out, waving as he walked away.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, wondering why you agreed to go. Parties were not your thing, and you definitely did not want to go to some college party where everyone was too drunk to handle themselves. Oh well, at least you were able to rope in some help for your project. That counted for something.

As the sun began to fall, and darkness was slowly creeping in, you decided to pack up your things and head back to your apartment. The quicker you got this thing over with, the quicker you were able to come home and finish binge-watching Game of Thrones. You definitely needed to catch up before Anakin accidentally spoiled it for you.

It didn’t take you too long to get ready. You made sure to jump in the shower and washed your hair, wanting to look as if you semi tried. For clothes you opted for casual wear, wearing your favorite jeans and band shirt. You had made the mistake of overly dressing to your first party, and you definitely were not going to make that mistake again.

Before you knew it Anakin was knocking on the door, seemingly out of breath.

“Hey! Sorry that I didn’t text first. My phone ended up dying and I have been with Obi-Wan. He has been helping me with my coursework. Business school is a lot, but if I want to own my mechanic shop, a business degree would definitely come in handy. So I thought I was running late and when I got here I ended up taking these stairs two at a time.” Anakin explained, causing you to laugh slightly.

“You’re fine! I totally understand. Sometimes I want to just scream at my computer and avoid my responsibilities.” You agreed, laughing as you grabbed your purse. “Well, at least you are already an amazing mechanic. You are the only person I want to call when my car breaks down. Which it does, a lot.”

“Well, I am only such a great mechanic because old reliable out there has given me so much practice! Maybe the only reason why it breaks down so much is so that you have an excuse to see me. I have to work on that thing at least five times a week.” He teased, watching you carefully as you locked the door. Even when you were dressed so casually Anakin couldn’t help but think that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic Anakin! It is definitely not that much. Besides, you are my best friend, if I wanted to hang out with you, I don’t need a car breaking down to do it!” You tell him, opening up the door to his own car.

Unlike your older Toyota, Anakin had a pretty nice Camaro. It was older, but he had fixed it to his liking and you always called it the lady magnet. Though it attracted more men to it than anything.

“Where is Obi-Wan?” You asked, reaching into the backseat for a bag of your favorite chips. You loved how Anakin would keep them in there for you.

“He decided to go with Satine tonight. It is about time. I keep telling him that she is totally into him, but he is kind of oblivious about it.”

“I know the feeling.” You mumbled under your breath, glancing out the window.

“What was that?” Anakin questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking over at you briefly.

“I said that it must suck. But I am sure they can work it out. They do seem like a cute couple.” You answered, unbuckling as soon as the car pulled in.

You could feel your stomach in knots, not really wanting to go inside of the house. Watching Anakin attempt to flirt with Padme did not sound fun, and you felt as if you would be the fifth wheel. The whole way to the door you mentally prepared yourself, taking deep breaths.

“Hey Anakin, come in!” Padme greeted, giving Anakin a hug. “Y/N, I am surprised you show up! I am glad though.” She said with a smile, hugging you and shooting Anakin a look.

You internally rolled your eyes, staying close to Anakin as you entered the house. You truly liked Padme, she was nice and she was a mentor for your Political Science classes. She definitely knew what she was doing.

“Hey, you can stay here for a second. I can go grab you a drink. I will be right back.” Anakin said, walking off with Padme.

You wanted to argue and go with him, but you figured to leave it alone. At least he knew what you liked. You eyed the house, and all the people inside of it. They were bobbing along to the music, and you really didn’t know a single person. Other than Obi-Wan, but you definitely did not want to barge in while he was talking to Satine. Luckily a familiar voice brought you from your trance, and you smiled looking over at Ahsoka.

“Hey, Y/N! I am surprised you showed up! You never come to these things.” Ahsoka teased, leaning on the back of the couch.

“Well, I let Anakin sort of talk me into coming here.” You trailed off, blushing at Ahsoka’s knowing look.

You had known Ahsoka since you started college, actually being roommates for the first semester. You considered her to be your best friend, and the only person to know of your crush on Anakin. Oddly enough, she was good friends with Anakin and was always pushing for the two of you to get together.

“Oh my goodness, Y/N! Seriously. If you don’t get together soon I will scream. The two of you have liked each other for God knows how long. At least since the two of you were in high school. We are all getting tired of seeing the two of you pining after each other.” Ahsoka teased, watching as Anakin walked over. “And this is my cue to leave, so maybe you will finally tell him how you feel.” She teased, saying hi to Anakin as she passed.

“Here you go, everything alright?” Anakin asked, handing you your drink and taking a sip of his own.

You nodded your head, watching as some people trickled in and out of the house. The two of you talked, laughed, and just did what the two of you always did. Talking to others felt so hard sometimes, but talking to Anakin was always easy. From the first moment you had met him until now, you were crushing hard. There had been so many times that you wanted to tell him, but you just couldn’t. After all, why would he like you back? Especially now with Padme in the picture.

“Come on everyone! We are playing Truth or Dare!” Ahsoka called out, gathering up people from inside the house.

“Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” You teased, grinning as Ahsoka stuck her tongue playfully at you.

“As long as no one streaks, I am good. Last time it happened I was scared it was going to be me.” Anakin said, causing you to laugh.

After everyone settled in a space, and the game started, you suddenly felt a bit nervous. Anakin’s hand was wrapped casually around your shoulder, and you couldn’t be more aware of it. You knew it was just friendly, but the warmth of his body was enough to send you over the moon. You had sort of dazed off, thinking of Anakin and why you couldn’t tell him when you heard Padme calling your name.

“Truth or Dare?” She asked, and your face heated up as you felt people looking over at you.

“I know she will pick Truth and play it safe.” Anakin teased, and you shook your head.

“I will do something different and pick dare.” You said, not at all confidently and your stomach was turning as you saw Ahsoka whisper something into Padme’s ear.

“I dare you to kiss Anakin,” Padme said with a grin, and you thought you had actually felt your heart stop.

“No, I ca-.” You began, but Ahsoka was quick to cut you off.

“You have to, it is a dare!” She said, with the largest grin on your face.

“Come on, Y/N. It isn’t a big deal.” Anakin said, making you want to just turn around and leave.

Of course, he was right, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a huge deal. It was a ginormous deal. It was such a big deal that it couldn’t possibly have a word to describe it. You knew your entire face was red and you didn’t care. You wanted to be at home cuddle in bed with Game of Thrones on. But no. You had to agree to this to make Anakin happy, to see his stupid cute face all happy. And now you were stuck here being forced to kiss him. Of course, it could be worse, she could have dared you to kiss someone else, but she chose Anakin.

“Just kiss me already.” Anakin teased, pulling you from your thoughts.

You closed your eyes and took some big breaths. You slowly leaned in and placed your own lips against his. It surprised you when you felt him lean in, tangling on his hands into your hair. It felt so good, that you knew it had to be too good to be true. But the kiss felt like fireworks as if your whole life had lead you to this moment and it was the most glorious moment you had experienced so far. You could spend forever kissing Anakin Skywalker, but just as quick as it had happened it ended.

The next few moments were a blur to you. They went by so quick, yet everything seemed to be in slow motion. You could hear everyone cheering, mostly Ahsoka as she chided that it was about time. You could see the look on Anakin’s face, he seemed confused as you stood up. An incoherent excuse escaped your lips as you dashed out of the party, needing some air.

All of this had to be some cruel sick joke. You knew it. Anakin would have never kissed you like that. He didn’t like you. He was definitely into Padme. You were halfway home when you heard a car horn from beside you.

“Hey, Y/N. What the hell? You just dashed out of there. What is going on?” Anakin called out from his car, the windows rolled down.

You could feel the tears sting your eyes, and you shook your head. You couldn’t explain this to him. Because to him, it was just a stupid kiss, nothing more. But to you it was everything. It meant you could never go back to being just his friend, and watching from a distance as he sought out Padme.

“Come on Y/N, you can tell me. You are my best friend.”

That was it. It was as if a dam broke and a flood of our emotions came pouring out.

“You want to know what is wrong. You are! I have had a dumb, stupid, awful crush on you for as long as I can remember. I have always wanted to tell you, but the timing was never right. I wanted to kiss you like that so many times, but I never could. And when we started school and you met Padme, I knew I couldn’t. You like her, I can tell. I always catch the two of you talking, and I can’t compete with that. She is some fierce woman who can persuade a room of politicians. And I am plain old me who is too quiet for her own good.” You shouted out, not realizing that Anakin had put his car into park and was approaching you.

“Y/N. I am sorry. I should have said something too, but I am an idiot. I have liked you since the moment your bike went flat in front of my house and you fell into the bushes. As I fixed it you spent the whole time thanking me, and we were like 10. You offered me some homemade lemonade in return, and we have been friends ever since. I wanted to take you to Prom and be your date. I wanted to have you wear my letterman or make you a mum for homecoming. But I was too scared to admit how I truly felt. I knew you would never like someone like me. Or I thought at least.” Anakin told you, cupping your face into his hands. “And Padme is just a really good friend. Not like you. In fact, she was the one who kept telling me you liked me. She said she could just tell, and would always try helping me confess to you. That was why I asked Ahsoka to play Truth or Dare. I knew eventually Padme would ask you that, and that maybe a spark would happen. And it did. And now that I know we belong together, I don’t want to lose that. I love you, Y/N. And I wish I would have said something sooner, but I am an idiot.” He explained, causing you to blush. You really had no idea. “Since all of this is out in the air, did you want to try dating?” Anakin asked, causing you to smile wide.

“Just kiss me already.” You teased, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a kiss. It felt as if the world stopped turning as he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in as close as he could. Something good did come from this party, and you were actually glad you went to it.

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high-queen-margo · 5 years

Text

Just to Bring You Home

Summary: After Margo is attacked in Fillory, Fen convinces her to hire a personal bodyguard. She chooses someone from a world she's been trying to forget. Prompt fill for @mintealesbian on @themagiciansprompts Pairing: Margo/Kady Length: 5,183

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Kady ambled through the halls of Castle Whitespire, popping her head into each room she passed. It seemed awfully empty for an active royal castle, but she’d come as soon as she got the bunny’s message—well, as soon as Julia had relayed it to her after the hungover dead sleep she’d been in.

“Hey,” she called to a man walking the opposite direction down the hall, “do you know where Margo is? She’s not in the throne room. She asked me to come.”

“Oh dear,” the man said. “You haven’t heard? She was attacked early this morning. I’ll escort you to her bedroom.”

“Attacked?” Kady’s heart lurched. There’d been no mention of any danger in the bunny’s message. Maybe she should have taken it more urgently. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” the man said. “The assassination attempt was unsuccessful and the attacker has been detained. The High King is simply recovering.” He stopped at a large, elaborate set of doors with two guards stationed outside. “Here you are, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” Kady said. She pushed the door open to find Margo asleep in bed, the rest of the room empty. Somehow, she hadn’t expected to see this. She’d expected to find Margo bitching about the situation, setting up measures to fortify the castle, figuring out a plan of action while she was undoubtedly unable to perform some of her duties, not…sleeping and vulnerable. Kady didn’t think she’d ever actually seen Margo asleep before.

She didn’t know what to do. Margo had called for her, so maybe she should wake her up, but it had taken her a while to get there. Margo probably needed what rest she could get, anyway.

She sat down on a chair left beside the bed to wait. Margo really did look more peaceful as she slept; her eyebrows had softened, her muscles relaxed, her eyes flitting gently beneath their lids. She could see now why Eliot called her Bambi.

Margo started when she finally opened her eyes and noticed Kady so close to her bed. “Jesus,” she said, “if I’d have known you wanted to give me a heart attack I wouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“Sorry,” Kady said, “I didn’t want to wake you up. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Margo pulled herself up to sit against her pillows. “You can only send so many words with messenger bunnies,” she said. “It’s not like I’m dying. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Okay?”

“Fen is insisting I need a personal guard.” Margo paused. “I know battle magic is your thing, and magic is kind of unreliable right now, but I’ve seen you fight hand-to-hand. You’re strong, you’re skilled, and I know you well enough to trust you won’t try to murder me. I know it’s a big ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Kady said.

Margo narrowed her eyes. “That was way too easy. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kady said. “I need to get away from Earth for a while, and here I can do something I’m good at.”

“Perfect,” Margo said. “I’d say you can wait until I’m back on my feet, but Fen’s overbearing ass wants someone with me 24/7 starting yesterday. It’s gonna be pretty boring for a little while, so sorry about that.”

“I don’t really care,” Kady said. “So, what exactly happened today? How did someone manage to pull one over on you?”

“About that,” Margo said. “I won the election in a landslide, but I failed to consider the fact that most of the people who voted against me were…well, humans, who can throw knives with their hands. Sneaky bastard took me by surprise on my way to a summit and caught me twice before I could block it.”

Kady hesitated, then said, “Can I see?” She almost regretted asking—it was a strange request and she had no real reason to want to see the wound—but she was curious.

Margo gave her an odd look, but gingerly pulled her loose nightshirt up to reveal the sutured gashes along her abdomen. Kady impulsively reached out to run her fingers along the unmarked skin beside one of the wounds as she leaned closer to get a better look.

“Damn,” she said, “these look bad.”

“You should have seen them when they were hemorrhaging,” Margo said, tugging her shirt back down. “Totally ruined my dress.”

“This isn’t funny,” Kady said. “I’ve seen people die from wounds like this.”

“Relax,” Margo said, “they took care of all the bleeding before magic ran out. Why is this freaking you out so bad?”

Kady shook her head. Why did it freak her out to think that Margo could have died? It was all hypothetical; she was here, healing, and the threat was gone, and by all accounts she had nothing to worry about even if they were close, and they weren’t. They never had been, and Kady was always just fine with that.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’m just glad you’re okay, I guess.”

Margo hummed. “Thanks, I guess. Now, it’s late, and I don’t normally share a bed with people I’m not sleeping with, but it’s big enough for both of us if you want to get some rest.”

“Is that a good idea?” Kady said, gesturing toward Margo’s wounds. She wasn’t sure she even needed sleep, but it was as good a way to pass time as any. If she’d be working as a bodyguard, she should probably get on a normal sleep schedule anyway.

Margo shrugged. “I’ve seen you passed out in the Cottage lounge enough to know you sleep like a rock. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Kady said. “If you’re sure.”

“I truly couldn’t give less of a shit,” Margo said, but Kady thought she saw a small smile when she stood up to get in on the other side of the bed.

***

Kady woke up before Margo, and the first thing she noticed was the light thrumming in the air she’d become accustomed to detecting since magic came into short supply. She slipped out of the room, asked the guards to tell Margo where she went if she woke up, and began searching the halls for someone she knew. She’d really have to learn the layout of the castle soon if she wanted to stay there.

Fen was in the great hall talking to someone Kady didn’t recognize, and when she saw Kady come in, she waved them away.

“Kady, right?” Fen said. “Margo asked you to guard her?”

“Yeah,” Kady said. “And I am. I just thought I’d let you know some of the magic is back, so your healers can finish working on her when she wakes up.”

“Oh, good,” Fen said. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll send them in shortly.”

“No problem,” Kady said. “And, Fen? Thank you for looking out for her. I’ve lost people I cared about before and I don’t want to lose another.”

“I didn’t know you were so close,” Fen said. “She needs someone like that after Eliot. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m kind of afraid…”

“What?”

“Margo is smart,” Fen said. “She’s resourceful, and she knows how to defend herself. It just…crossed my mind yesterday that she may have been so unconcerned about getting hurt because she doesn’t care anymore.”

“Because Eliot is gone.” Kady sighed. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Please just make sure she’s safe,” Fen said. “I care about her, but…there’s not a lot I can do to protect her.”

“I will,” Kady said. “I promise.”

***

“Are you sure you’re ready to try another summit?”

Kady snuck a glance in the mirror as Margo changed into one of her elaborate dresses. The scars on her stomach looked years old after the magical healing, though it had only been a month since the attack.

“I’ve been stuck within the castle grounds for way too long and if I have to stay here another minute without getting some goddamn change of scenery I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Kady raised her hands in mock surrender. “It was just a question,” she said. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Not to mention,” Margo continued, gathering a sack of scrolls she’d been studying through the week, “if the Lorians and Fairies don’t settle this little dick-measuring contest of theirs, we’ll be trapped in the middle, and that’s gonna be a huge load of shit I’ll need to clean up myself.”

“Yeah, that would suck,” Kady said.

“Can you go make sure the horses are ready?” Margo said. “The regular ones. We don’t ride the ones who can talk—not on business, anyway.”

“Riding?” Kady said. “As in, out in the open, where you got attacked last time?”

“You’re my bodyguard, not my mother,” Margo said. “Do your job and it should be fine, right?”

Kady sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Then we’re taking a different route than you did before.”

“Whatever. There are a billion of them,” Margo said. She drew one of the scrolls out of the sack and handed it to Kady. “Here’s a map. Take your pick.”

Kady unrolled the map and studied it while Margo fastened a plain black cloak over her dress. It was hard to tell which paths would be best, but she settled on one arcing in the opposite direction from the main road.

Margo’s horse, which Kady didn’t even know she had, was a dapple gray Andalusian mare with an impossibly long mane and tail. She swung up into the saddle with surprisingly practiced ease, and it struck Kady how comfortable Margo was in this world. It was no longer the fantasy world of a children’s book; it was Margo’s world, literally, and it was no wonder she came back here after her best friend died. Kady wondered how long she would have to live here before she considered it home, too.

Kady mounted the black gelding the stable hand had picked out for her and they set off at a brisk trot through the Fillorian backwoods.

“I didn’t know you even knew how to ride,” Kady said.

“I learned after I got here,” Margo said. “The castle staff said a proper queen should know how, so they taught me. It’s faster than a carriage, anyway.” She paused. “When did you learn? You don’t seem the type.”

Kady snorted. “I’m not,” she said. “I had rich kid friends upstate in middle school and they forced me into it every time I came over.”

“Sounds tragic,” Margo said. “That’s not sarcasm, by the way. Little rich kids are the worst. I would know; I was one of them.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

Kady didn’t miss the little smirk Margo gave at the comment before changing the subject.

“I like the route you picked,” Margo said. “We’ll be crossing this bridge over a section of the Burnt River. It’s got a great view; there’s nothing like it on Earth.”

“The Burnt River?” Kady said. “It doesn’t sound that great.”

“It’s a misnomer,” Margo said. “Like Iceland. It sounds ugly, but, well…you’ll see.”

Kady could hear the river long before she could see it. She thought by the volume of the rushing water it had to be right around the corner, but the sound grew louder until she could barely hear Margo’s voice, and only then did the bridge come into view.

While the river itself stretched far below the arched wooden bridge, swathes of land on the opposite cliff hung over the side, coated in vibrant green-orange mosses, water pouring down them in an unbroken glass sheet for as far as Kady could see in either direction. The bridge disappeared into a tunnel carved through the cliff face, where dim light shone from its distant exit.

Margo rode ahead of her onto the bridge and turned around. “See?” she called. “What did I tell you?”

“I mean, I don’t usually care much about the outdoors, but…yeah, this is really something.” Kady’s eyes fell from the waterfall to Margo, whose hair was beginning to collect crystalline drops of water from the spray.

“It’s too bad we can’t stop and take in all the natural beauty or whatever,” Margo said, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. “There’s always shit to do.” She waited a moment, then said, “Well, are you coming or not?”

Kady blinked and tamped down the uncomfortable fullness in her chest as she kicked her horse back into motion. She followed Margo under the waterfall and through the tunnel until they emerged into the open grasslands on the other side.

“Just about another hour before we get there,” Margo said. “By the way, I have no idea how long this meeting will last, so we might have to stay overnight at the encampment. They’ll have food and tents, so we won’t have to deal with hunting ourselves, but it’s not very comfortable. Just a heads up.”

“Will it be safe if other people are staying there?”

“I don’t see why not,” Margo said. “We’re allies. They don’t have any reason to come after me, and they’d never get away with it if they tried.” They rode in silence for a few moments, then she continued, “You know I don’t have angry mobs clamoring to kill me all the time, right? It never happened before last month. I doubt it’ll happen again anytime soon.”

Kady sighed and picked at a bit of flaking leather from her saddle horn. “Look,” she said, “I don’t know much about this place. I don’t even know you as well as I’d like to. I just know you almost died and when I found out, I felt…I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was scared.”

Margo halted her horse in front of Kady. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kady said. “What happened to being in a hurry?”

“Don’t avoid the question. Why were you scared? You’re supposed to be the fearless one.” Margo sat tall in her saddle, staring Kady down with an expression she couldn’t read. She clearly wouldn’t be moving until Kady gave in.

“You’re kidding.” Fearless—sure, it was a mask she tried to wear as often as possible, but she was far from it. She’d been living in fear for as long as she could remember. “You know what?” she said. “I do know. I thought of never seeing you again, and that scared me. I know we barely said a word to each other before I came here, but the moment I found out what happened, I just…couldn’t stand it. Our fucked up little group has been through so much together and I care about you, okay? Maybe more than I thought I did.”

Margo didn’t move; Kady could tell she hadn’t been anticipating that kind of response. Kady herself trembled slightly, gripping the reins in her hands tightly enough that her horse shifted nervously beneath her.

“Kady—”

“We should get going,” Kady said, her voice steeled and distant. She turned her horse back onto the path and kicked him into a canter before Margo could get another word out.

***

The voices of the summit leaders carried through the canvas tent walls, where Kady sat shielded from the glare of the setting sun, whittling a tree branch down to a point. She should have brought something to do; she didn’t have a watch, but the meeting must have been going for hours already. It was hard to hold out hope that they’d make it back to the castle tonight when there was so little daylight left—not that Kady was mentally prepared for the three-hour ride back. Neither of them had spoken much the remainder of the trip there, and she didn’t know how to dissipate the awkwardness.

Kady threw the branch onto a pile of other makeshift spears and ducked out of the tent. The leaders sat around a small table as they talked about delegation and resources, their people milling about the encampment doing God-knows-what. Kady strode toward the table and grabbed a random bottle off of it before returning to the tent.

“Excuse me—”

“Chill,” Margo’s quiet voice said. “It’s fine.”

Kady took a swig from the bottle and grimaced; she wasn’t sure, but she thought it was supposed to be some kind of whiskey, though the flavor was awful. Apparently, Fillorians just didn’t care enough about alcohol to make it taste good, but it would do the trick.

By the time the meeting concluded, night had fallen and the encampment was lit only by oil lamps and candles. Kady’s tent was dark; she lay in her bedroll, unable to fall asleep but unwilling to join the friendly gathering outside after a successful summit. Her head spun from the shitty alcohol, and she didn’t realize anyone had come into the tent until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Kady?” Margo said. “Are you awake?”

Kady almost responded, but she stayed still on her side, her eyes closed. She didn’t want to deal with conversation at the moment; whatever it was Margo wanted, it could wait until morning if it wasn’t urgent.

“Okay,” Margo murmured, “good. I’m sorry I forced you to talk earlier. The truth is, I don’t know how to deal with people caring about me. I thought…I thought Eliot was the only one, maybe Fen, but it’s easy to assume she only cares because I’m the king or because I was Eliot’s friend.” She sighed. “I know it’s kind of fucked up I can only admit this now, but maybe if I do it’ll be easier to say it to your face later. So thank you. For caring about me. And I care about you too.”

Margo squeezed her shoulder once, and then she was gone.

***

Kady didn’t bring up what she’d heard the previous night. She saddled her horse silently, searching her admittedly small repertoire of conversation starters for something she could use to pretend yesterday never happened. She had to scrape the bottom of the barrel as she followed Margo out of the encampment.

“So the summit went well, right?” Kady said.

Margo glanced at her out of the corner of her eye before staring ahead at the path. “If you can call six hours of negotiations that ultimately ended up with an agreement for the exact terms we had before ‘well,’ then yeah,” she said. “It’s fine, though; at least tensions are down. Shouldn’t be any problems between the other nations for a while.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Margo said. “So, um…that was fairy whiskey you took last night. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Kady said. “The fuck did they put in it?”

“They’ve got different grains in their world. Fucked me up the first time I tried it too, not that it tastes remotely okay to humans anyway.”

“Yeah,” Kady said, “I, uh…probably should have stopped sooner than I did, but. Old habits.”

“For future reference, I can’t defend you every time you take something out from under a fairy’s nose,” Margo said. “Everyone here has a temper out the ass, and that’s coming from me, so be careful.”

“Right,” Kady said. “You’re right. You have enough on your plate; you shouldn’t have to worry about me doing stupid things.”

“It’s whatever,” Margo said. “I’ve just been trapped in a fairy deal I didn’t want before, and if you piss them off they could do a lot worse than give you an impossible choice to make.”

“What deal?” Kady knew Margo had lost her eye to a fairy, but she’d been so busy on the Earth side of things for so long that she never really knew what all had been happening in Fillory.

Margo shook her head. “I got an attitude with the fairies’ ambassador and he lost his damn mind on me. The only way he’d guarantee Eliot’s safety was to agree to something just…awful. And I did it. I’m not proud of it, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done, but it was my choice and I have to live with that.” Her voice shook almost imperceptibly and she turned away from Kady. “It didn’t even buy him that much time.”

“Well, whatever it was, I wouldn’t blame you for it,” Kady said. “I’d probably do the same thing. I know how close you were with Eliot; I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through.”

“It’s hard,” Margo said. “God, it’s so hard. I keep thinking he’ll come back somehow, because he always did before, but…I know he won’t this time.”

“I thought we’d be able to get Penny back, too. Our Penny.” Kady sighed. “Sometimes I think magic gives us too much hope.”

Margo snorted and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, you might be on to something.”

“I just can’t bring myself to hate it, though,” Kady said. “It’s the reason Penny is gone, but it’s also the reason I met him. The reason I met Julia. You. If I—”

Kady broke herself off. She searched the woods with her periphery, trying not to turn her head too much.

“If you what?”

“Shh.”

Kady caught another flash of movement to their right. She threw up a shield charm just as an arrow whipped through the trees, then followed it with a carefully aimed magic missile. She held her stance for a moment, waiting for any signs of the attacker, before dismounting her horse and creeping toward the trees. The hollow in the undergrowth where the archer had been waiting was empty, even underneath the small window of a revelation charm.

“Margo,” Kady said. “Go.”

“What? No,” Margo said, sliding out of her saddle. “No way. You’re not staying here alone.”

“Now’s not the time to argue,” Kady murmured, but she didn’t repeat herself. If Margo didn’t want to run, there was no way to make her. She held her hands ready to fire another missile and scanned the trees. “Surrender now if you want to stay alive,” she called.

Another arrow came from the other side of the path in response, and Margo conjured a shield while Kady released the magic missile. This time, she heard the crash of the body hitting tree branches under the force of the spell, but she still found no trace of them when she looked.

“This is bad,” she said. “Watch your back. I think we might be dealing with a traveler.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a man appeared directly in front of Margo, a dagger in his hand. She scarcely managed to conjure another shield before he struck, and his blow glanced off of the magical barrier. Kady felt it then, the magic in the air dwindling to nothing, and Margo’s shield fizzled out.

She’d never moved so fast in her life. She threw herself against Margo, pushing her out of the way, with only her raised arm to block herself from the dagger. She gritted her teeth as the blade carved into her skin and she gathered all of her strength to land a blow of her own to his jaw. He went down, finally, and she stood over his prone body. It wouldn’t be long before he regained consciousness, and then he wouldn’t allow himself to be so easily caught.

Kady knelt down and gripped his head in both hands, then jerked it around until she felt his neck break.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I had to,” Kady said. “When he woke up he’d travel away and then he’d just come back.”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about him,” Margo said. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Kady said. “It’s just my arm.” But with the threat gone, pain flooded through her arm and all along her left side, blood coating her hand and dripping into the dirt.

Margo pulled her cloak off and ripped one of the sleeves off of her dress at the seams. “Here,” she said, “hold your arm out.” Kady did, and Margo pressed the fabric against the wound. “How bad is it?” she said. “Can you tell?”

Kady shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can move my fingers, so that’s probably a good sign.”

“Okay,” Margo said, “can you ride? Maybe I should find a bunny and call for a carriage.”

“It’s fine,” Kady said again. “If that’s not the same guy who attacked you before, we need to keep moving. They’re obviously working in a group.”

She winced as she gripped her horse’s mane in her hand, the pain shooting more forcefully through her, but she pushed it aside to try to pull herself into the saddle. Her strength failed halfway up and she let her right leg fall back to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Margo said.

“I’ll just get up on the other side,” Kady said breathlessly, but she stumbled taking her foot out of the stirrup, and she suddenly felt too weak to walk. She held herself up with her arm over the horse’s back and leaned her forehead against his flank.

“Kady, seriously,” came Margo’s voice again, her voice tinged with concern. “Something’s not right.”

No, Kady thought, it’s not. She felt warmth under her nose, and when she wiped it, her hand came away red.

An arm wrapped around Kady’s waist as Margo took on some of her weight and led her away from the horse.

“Come on,” she said, “you can ride with me. Whitespire’s far enough away there should be magic there and we’ll find out what’s wrong. We just have to get there.”

Margo unbuckled the saddle from her horse and dropped it to the ground before boosting Kady up and climbing on in front of her.

“You can hold on to me, right?”

“Yeah,” Kady said, and wrapped her arms around Margo’s waist. She couldn’t get a grip with her wounded arm, but Margo held the reins in one hand and held Kady’s arms against her with the other as she urged the horse forward.

They fell into a gallop within minutes, and each beat of the horse’s hooves jostled more air out of Kady’s body. Her chest felt thick and heavy, as if she were breathing water, and her head swam with the feeling. Maybe she was drowning, but she could still feel Margo in her arms, so she couldn’t be.

“Kady, are you still okay back there?”

Margo’s voice sounded distant, and Kady wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t gather enough breath for it.

“Kady?”

I’m here, Kady thought.

She leaned against Margo’s back, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

***

Kady woke with a new kind of weight on her chest. She felt okay, really. Her arm stung, but it didn’t radiate through her like before. Her head was clear, if achy. She could breathe. The only thing out of the ordinary was the light pressure above her heart.

Her eyes blurred when she opened them and the room gradually came into focus as she blinked the uncomfortable dryness away. Margo’s room. She recognized the latticed windows and cross-vaulted ceiling, and the scent of Margo’s perfume was almost overpowering.

Margo herself lay curled up into Kady’s side, her head resting on her chest and her arm slung over her stomach. Kady supposed she was asleep. She didn’t know why she did it, but she lifted her hand to run her fingers through Margo’s hair, gently combing and stroking it until Margo shifted under her touch.

Kady had only seen Margo look like this once before: her eyes puffy and red, dried tears on her cheeks. It looked like she’d tried to take her makeup off, but remnants of wet mascara shadowed her eyelids.

“Kady,” Margo breathed. “Thank God.” She gathered Kady into her arms and hugged her as best she could lying down. “Thank God.”

Kady hugged Margo back, and she could feel the smaller girl trembling in her embrace. “What happened?”

Margo sat up and wiped fresh tears out of her eyes. “The blade was poisoned,” she said. “You…you weren’t breathing when we got here. The healers removed the poison but they weren’t sure you would wake up.”

Kady sighed and rubbed her temple. “Poison,” she said. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I should have run,” Margo said. “I should have gone when you told me to. This wouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” Kady said, “I’m glad you didn’t. He would have traveled after you and I wouldn’t have been able to block you when the magic failed.”

“You died!” Margo’s lip quivered. “You died, Kady. I was terrified. I’d rather—”

“Hey…” Kady took Margo’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “It’s okay. This is what I signed on for when I agreed to be your guard.”

Margo sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said. “Listen, I’m not good with the whole…you know…feelings thing, but…” She scoffed and shook her head. “God, this is so stupid.”

“I know,” Kady said. “I’m not good at it either. But, you know…” She took a deep breath. “If this is about last night—the things you said to me last night—I was awake. You don’t have to say it again.”

Margo gave a short laugh. “You think I didn’t know you were awake?”

Kady blinked. “What? But you said—”

“I hoped you were asleep, but I figured you probably weren’t,” Margo said. “Nobody sleeps very well after drinking fairy whiskey. It was just easier to say those things when I knew you wouldn’t say anything back.” She looked down and toyed with a loose thread in the comforter. “No, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. There’s something else I didn’t mention last night.”

“What is it?” Kady asked. She hated the ‘butterflies’ expression, but all she could think was that they were in her chest, and they desperately wanted out.

“I love you.”

Kady froze. She’d never expected those words to come out of Margo’s mouth, not directed toward her. Her first instinct was to deflect—after all, that was all she ever did whenever somebody got close—but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to push this away.

Instead, she sat up and cupped Margo’s cheek in her hand, wiped her tears with her thumb, and kissed her. Margo hesitated for a moment, and then Kady felt her kiss back, pulling her closer with one hand on her neck and one in her hair until their bodies pressed together so firmly that Kady could feel Margo’s heart beat against her chest. Margo bowed her head when they broke apart, and Kady pressed her lips to her forehead.

“So are you really gonna make me say it and not say it back?” Margo said.

Kady laughed and leaned back to look Margo in the eye. A month. She could never have said it to someone after a month before, but maybe she was getting better. Maybe it was something about Margo that made her feel sure enough of herself not to hide.

“I love you, too.”

#the magicians #the magicians fic #margo hanson #kady orloff diaz #battleking #my writing

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linssikeittomies · 5 years

Text

Flood Plain - Banana Fish Fanfic Excerpt

Soo-Ling/Yut-Lung

I‘ve been in the throes of a severe writer’s block for several weeks now, but before it started I watched Banana Fish and started this fanfic. The first chapter is mostly done, but I might have to turn this whole thing into a one-shot.

Yue Lung had hit his lowest point many times in his life. The first time had been when he watched his mother be raped and murdered. The second was when Ash Lynx pulled the trigger without hesitation. The third was when Sing Soo Ling pointed a gun at him.

Yue Lung had meant what he had said at that moment – Soo Ling still had all the right to blow his brains out. He had betrayed the boy, blackmailed him, manipulated his brother, exploited his whole gang... Yue Lung wouldn’t have been bitter about facing his end at Soo Ling’s hands that day. His life goal may not have been accomplished, with some members of the Lee clan still running loose in the world, but at that moment he had just been so tired, so exhausted, struggling to draw breath when the hatred for his brothers wasn’t there to fuel him anymore. Alcohol had been just about the only thing that had kept him from staying comatose. As long as he had been drunk, he could at least get angry. And being compared to Ash Lynx really had pissed him off, he wouldn’t even have needed the champagne to get angry enough to slap Soo Ling. Insinuating that Ash Lynx had anything Yue Lung would ever be envious of was more of an affront than accusing a monarch of treason! He had been a vile snake, and if you asked anyone else but the three assholes who kissed his ass with glee, they would all say that bleeding out for hours hadn’t been punishment enough for him! That slut had had no right being happy, and he dared to go out with a smile! The only justice would have been that thrice-damned jap dying instead! Ash Lynx should have hated himself for all eternity for failing to save him. The way Yue Lung had hated himself. For being weak, for being cowardly, for being the exact thing he had vowed to exterminate from the world. For being the kind of person Soo Ling had to pity, for not being the kind of person he could look up to. For not killing himself when the last of his half-brothers had been eradicated.

Yue Lung hadn’t been grateful to Soo Ling for sparing his life, and still wasn’t. He wasn’t grateful for being forced to slave away until Chinatown returned to its normal state, but he didn’t resent Soo Ling for that, either. It was simply a duty he eventually felt like he owed to Soo Ling. Now that everything was stable, that duty was fulfilled. Chinatown was safe. Soo Ling was doing well, he’d been accepted into business school with Yue Lung’s recommendation, and was looking to a future as the CEO of Yue Lung’s group. He no longer pitied Yue Lung, much less needed him. The emotional tangle inside Yue Lung had slowly disintegrated over these few years. Thanks to Soo Ling, he no longer felt like a mere vessel for vengeance, or indebted to anyone. For the first time in his life, Yue Lung felt calm. At peace. His relationship with Soo Ling had evolved over the years to something resembling friendship. Soo Ling was forced to work with Yue Lung for an extended period of time, and as some sort of coping mechanism he came to think he actually liked Yue Lung, and started visiting outside of business. Yue Lung didn’t mind it much, if nothing else then Soo Ling was pleasant company the majority of the time. Besides, once Yue Lung would no longer be there, he would soon forget everything. Why not enjoy it while it lasted? Soo Ling made him feel normal, like someone who hadn’t been raised as glorified merchandise. They talked about their day, movies and economy, all sorts of mundane things instead of assassinations, poisons and shady business deals. Soo Ling had taken Yue Lung to a karaoke bar on his 18th birthday. They were both terrible singers. Yue Lung had returned the favor on Soo Ling’s own 18th birthday party, renting the whole bar so all his friends could come. They felt comfortable in each other’s company. Soo Ling came over often, usually bringing take-out Chinese food with him or forcing him out to eat because he knew Yue Lung drank more than he ate. Sometimes he helped Yue Lung get to bed, on the nights he was too drunk to make the trip himself, and he’d stay the night so he could lecture Yue Lung about it, all the while having just as bad a hangover as Yue Lung. At first these small signs of concern had irritated him, but with time he had come to appreciate them. Soo Ling could be harsh and demanding, but that was only because he had a strong sense of honor and demanded others to live up to it as well. It was thanks to that demand that Yue Lung was able to feel redeemed to some degree. At least there was now one person in the world who didn’t look at him with contempt. Just one person who would sit with him in the garden and gaze at the flowers.

It was quiet in the garden. Late spring afternoon, it was warm but not hot, sunny but not overly bright thanks to the thin sheet of clouds. Many of the flowers were yet to bloom, but the amaryllises and larkspurs were in full swing. The earliest risers had already been harvested, and if there was anyone left to take care of them, the seeds would be taken from the rest. The calla lilies and fox gloves would bloom much later. Come summer, and the garden would be bathed in pink and peach. Soo Ling had made fun of Yue Lung for choosing such girly colors, of course, saying he could have at least chosen purple. He didn’t know that the monkshoods were purple this year, as they always were. The pink ones just weren’t as pretty. On the off chance Yue Lung’s words would hold some weight after he was gone, he had instructed his staff to give a bouquet of every flower in this garden for Soo Ling once the oleanders flowered. He wouldn’t appreciate it, but since it would be a gift, he would be obligated to accept it. A gigantic bouquet of nothing but pink flowers. With any luck he’d be stupid enough to touch them without gloves. Would serve him right for bullying Yue Lung about his femininity. “See those bleeding hearts? I planted them just for you”, Yue Lung snickered around his wineglass. He had chosen gold heart specifically for the obnoxiously pink flowers, though he himself was partial to snowdrift. Unfortunately the gold heart was new, so it wouldn’t be reaching it full size until a few years later. Provided someone looked after it, of course, and Yue Lung wasn’t banking on that happening. “It’s your garden, dude. You’re the one who’s gonna be looking at them every day, not me.” “Come take a look”, Yue Lung said, standing up and walking to the flower. Soo Ling followed him with a smirk and a slight sway, thanks to the buzz from the booze. Despite his impressive size, he only needed to drink half as much as Yue Lung to get drunk. Yue Lung pointed out the largest flower. “I named it Soo Ling, because it’s the biggest bleeding heart of them all”, he chuckled. “Not because it’s the same color as my Asian glow?” “Its full name is Sing Can’thandlealcohol Soo Ling”, Yue Lung giggled, because he rarely passed an opportunity to tease Soo Ling about his alcohol tolerance. “Oh, shut up already!” “You shut up, you know it’s true!” Yue Lung laughed. He went back to sit back down while Soo Ling lingered at the plant. Yue Lung almost asked him what was taking so long, but then Soo Ling returned to him, with his namesake in his hand. He held it against Yue Lung’s ear, and nodded approvingly. “It would look good on you as an earring.” “Careful there, those are poisonous. You could get a rash.” Soo Ling threw the flower away in a panic, and then whined about how nothing in Yue Lung’s garden was ever safe. “Doesn’t stop them from being pretty”, Yue Lung mused. “Besides, I prefer cutting the middle man in my business, all my poisons come from here.” “You need a real hobby, dude”, Soo Ling muttered. “No time anymore. I’m going to kill myself tonight.” Yue Lung enjoyed watching the indecisive shock on Soo Ling’s face. He couldn’t tell whether this was one of Yue Lung’s dramatic jokes or a serious statement. He was too much of a nice guy to keep joking for the fear of Yue Lung being serious – which he was – but also not keen on being laughed at. “...why?” was what he finally managed to say out loud. Yue Lung shrugged and told his reasoning nonchalantly. “I just feel like it’s the right time. I’ve paid my debt to you, and I’m the only Lee left.” “...I think you’ve had too much wine”, Soo Ling commented quietly, as if Yue Lung didn’t habitually guzzle down twice the amount he had that day. He was barely even buzzed. “This is only my second glass. I’m not drunk enough to think my debt hasn’t been paid, you disagree?” “It’s not that! I don’t even remember borrowing money for you!” Soo Ling yelled, but worried. “Are you serious?” “Money? Now I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “That makes two of us”, Soo Ling said, dropping his head into his hands. He was reacting oddly. Yue Lung had expected him to just acknowledge the plan and move on. Not knowing what to say to that, Yue Lung distracted himself with his ponytail – long and silky, his pride and joy. Soo Ling would claim otherwise, but he was jealous of Yue Lung’s hair – he was always looking at, even dared to touch it when they were both a little drunker than usual. Long hair might have suited him when he was younger, but it would have looked odd on him now, with his much more masculine looks. Sweet sixteen had hit him hard and heavy, and he seemed to turn into an adult nearly overnight. He was much taller and wider than Yue Lung, not that there was much to surpass. He had stayed delicate and dainty, and he was glad for that. Yue Lung took another sip of his wine while Soo Ling gathered his thoughts. “You’ve already proved you’re different from the other Lees! You don’t need to kill yourself to atone for their sins!” “Wouldn’t that be hypocritical of me, though? Deciding who’s worthy and who isn’t?” Yue Lung chuckled lightly despite his growing annoyance - in the past, it would have been Soo Ling pointing out the hypocrisy, and now the irony escaped him completely. “Not that I agree with your point. I’ve made up my mind, and I’d appreciate it if you just shut up and let me enjoy my last day on Earth.” “Why does it have to be today?” “Why wouldn’t it be today? Your friends aren’t getting shot at every time they step outside their homes, and you’re doing well in school.” “Couldn’t you at least wait until my birthday? It’s not that far away.” Not that far away? It was almost two months to Soo Ling’s birthday! It wasn’t even a special year, nothing changes when you turn 19! Yue Lung sighed in annoyance. He wouldn’t have told Soo Ling if he knew he would make such a show about it. “What’s the point? Your friends hate me, and you always forget about me when Eiji comes in anyway”, Yue Lung pouted. Was that loser some kind of succubus? What was up with every man on the planet fawning over him like school girls over One Direction? “Well maybe if you weren’t such a bitch I’d feel like remembering you!” Yue Lung was this close to throwing his wine at Soo Ling’s face. It was bad enough that Soo Ling’s friends were either needlessly stiff or outright hostile with Yue Lung, the universe had also decided that Okumura Eiji had to be a sentimental little bitch and move to New York permanently so he could rub Yue Lung’s failures at his face. Seriously, what was so fucking special about that dweeb? Soo Ling practically kissed the ground at his feet, it was gross. “If you’re expecting to get in to my will with this stunt you can forget it!” Yue Lung could rewrite his will after he kicked Soo Ling out. He didn’t need to know that everything valuable was left to him in the current one. “Who gives a shit about your will!” Soo Ling groan-shouted and slapped Yue Lung on the back of his head, almost sending the wine flying. “I thought you were done hating yourself! You’ve been doing so great lately!” “Shut up already! What would you know?!” Soo Ling barely even flinched at the weak slap Yue Lung gave him. He just gave a frustrated sigh. the kind that meant he was debating just shaking Yue Lung “until the stupid fell out of his head”, like he had a few times before. Damnit, he hadn’t invited Soo Ling for this. They weren’t supposed to get angry at each other. Yue Lung didn’t want to spend his last day alive disappointing the one person who had never exploited him. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and counted to ten. Fine. If it was so damn important to Soo Ling, Yue Lung would come to his birthday party to be sneered at and ignored. But he would kill himself after that. “Whatever. If it makes you happy, I’ll come to your stupid party. I’ll even get you anything you want as a present.” “You promise?” Soo Ling confirmed gravely, staring Yue Lung challengingly straight in the eye, ready to blow up if the answer was anything but right on the mark. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just stop talking about this.” “I won’t visit your grave if you don’t keep your word”, Soo Ling threatened. It wasn’t very effective, Yue Lung hadn’t expected him to visit anyways. “I said yeah, just shut up already you goddamn bleeding heart.”

#flood plain #wip scene #fan fiction #banana fish #yut-lung lee #sing soo ling #linssifanfiction #WIPtale

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truthofherdreams · 6 years

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life behind the camera (2)

also on ao3 + main instalment + outtakes

He doesn’t know how long they stay in the hot tub, loses track of time when Lara Jean’s mouth is on his. Might be minutes or hours, not that it matters much when he can wrap his arms around her and pull her in his lap, taste her mouth, thread his fingers through her hair. They kiss and giggle and kiss some more, whispering sweet nothings when their mouth aren’t otherwise busy. After weeks of pinning and frustration, it feels like heaven.

And then Lara Jean starts shivering, cold winter wind against her wet skin, until her teeth are shattering. She pulls him closer, as if it would help.

“Let’s go back inside,” he whispers to her.

She whines a little when he lets go of her and he knows that sound will follow him through his dreams for weeks to come. But he doesn’t let himself think about it too much as he jumps out of the hot tub to grab big fluffy towels inside and comes back jogging. He wraps her in one of the towels, a perfect little LJ burrito that he kisses on the nose until she giggles.

Then he’s pulling her inside, one arm around her shoulders to keep her close and share body heat at the same time.

They must have been in the hot tub for longer than he thought at first, because the entire cabin is silent, fire dying slowly in the fireplace and mugs of hot cocoa discarded on a table.

Peter leads LJ to his bedroom, but she tenses a little when they stop at the door, her eyes widening as she avoids his gaze.

“Just sleeping,” he reassures her. “Or cuddling. Whatever.”

“Taking it slow,” she confirms.

He doesn’t mind. He’s waited weeks for this moment. He will enjoy whatever LJ is ready to offer, glad and grateful that his feelings are finally returned, happy for his love not to be unrequited anymore. He could wait months for more than that, and be perfectly fine with it.

What he isn’t fine with is John’s shit-eating grin when he opens the door. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep,” he simply comments as he stands up from one of the two beds in the room. He doesn’t say the I told you so, but the look he offers Peter as he leaves the room is pretty telling on his own.

Even LJ, queen of being clueless, notices. “He knew?”

“About the contract or about my feelings? Because yes to both.”

Her face does that scrunchie cute thing he loves so much, and it’s hard not to lean down and kiss her from how adorable she is. Until he remembers he doesn’t have to stop himself anymore, the no-kissing rule definitely is off the table, and so he does just that. Kiss her. And again, and once more, until she giggles against his lips and he swallows the sound. It’s already his new favourite activity. Fuck Youtube, that’s what he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“I may have told Lucas everything tonight,” she confesses once they stop for breath. She’s still pressing her forehead against his though, him leaning down and her on her tiptoes. Fucking best.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I mean…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for the both of them to understand what he means -- Chris and Gabe will need to be told too, at some point. It’s a small miracle they went on with the contract for so long and only John guessed that something was off. Perhaps because they were so good at pretending, until they were not pretending at all.

The thought makes his heart race.

“Later,” she agrees with a small nod.

Later, when they will not be busy kissing and moving to the bed, and cuddling and kissing again. It’s well into the night when Peter takes his iPad out to watch The Golden Girls, and that’s how LJ falls asleep -- in his arms, completely at peace.

...

“I’m too old for this,” Lucas groans as he sits in one of the couches.

Chris follows suite, sitting by his side before she leans forward to grab Veronica’s hand and pulls her on her lap. Her girlfriend does as she’s told, not without a roll of the eyes. “You’re only twenty-six,” the gamer girl points out.

“It’s ancient in Youtuber years,” John laughs from his spot in the only armchair. Sitting casually, one ankle on a knee, he looks like the king of the internet. Which he might be, What with his newly-celebrated ten million subscribers.

Peter shares another couch with LJ, as he sits with his back to the armrest with her between his legs, her back to his torso. She’s wrapped in a powder blue sweater from Veronica’s new merch line, her recently-cut hair brushing against his cheek every time she moves her head. Her fingers laced with his on her stomach, and he’s the happiest of men, exhaustion from Vidcon be damned.

It’s been a hell of a two months, what with their tour followed by the convention, but it’s the good kind of tired, the one that settles deep in your bones and leads to long and well-deserved hours of sleep. Soon it will all over and they will go back to LA, to the house, to their routine of vlogs and editing. But, for now, Peter enjoys the life on the road with his friends, the closest thing he’ll ever get to being a rock star.

Well. Maybe it would be one step closer to being a rock star if they were actually partying. But, as it is, Lucas isn’t entirely wrong. The craziness of the past few weeks is finally catching up with all of them and, where they would party like there’s no tomorrow any other year, this year they are just chilling in their penthouse suite with their friends. Veronica, of course, now officially member of the Kavinsquad, and Simon and Bram, Dimple. A viewer’s wet dream, yet all they’re doing is chill and eat nachos.

“I met an eight-year old fan today,” Simon agrees. “SimonSays shirt and hoodie and baseball cap and everything. Eight! Young enough to be my daughter!”

Bram puts his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh, a faux serious expression on his face. “Babe, I didn’t know how to tell you…”

Everyone bursts into laughter at Simon’s dramatic face, even more so when he throws a tortilla chip at Bram, who catches it in his mouth. It’s all those little things that have Peter remember that enjoying yourself with your friends doesn’t have to always involve loud music, tons of alcohol and fuzzy memories. It can be just as simple as good moments with Hozier playing in the background.

LJ is getting sleepy in his arms, snuggling a little more into his neck, so he shakes her slightly to keep her awake. Leaning closer to her ear, he whispers, “Let’s go outside,” to which she nods a little.

She’s all mellow and sleepy as he pulls her up and into his arms, guiding her toward the door. John shares a meaningful look with Peter that does nothing beside set his stomach into knots of anxiety as he leads LJ down the corridor and toward the lifts.

She doesn’t protest until they make their way to the roof terrasse, and then she forgets to protest altogether. The fresh air finishes waking her up properly, and she gasps a little at the view offered to her. The whole city shines in the night, brights colourful lights that paint a gorgeous picture.

She leans against the railway, and Peter steps behind her to hug her, arms wrapped around her waist and chin on her shoulder. That’s the only downside of the past few weeks; they’ve barely managed to get a moment to themselves, away from the others. He’s all but moved into her house at this point, enjoying the intimacy of a place he doesn’t share with his best friends, relishing in having LJ all to himself now that Kitty has switched places with him.

“Can you believe it’s been two years?” she sighs wistfully.

So much has happened in only two years that sometimes Peter barely even remembers who he was before LJ entered his life. He sure can’t imagine a life without her now, when she’s everything, everywhere – the first face he sees in the morning, the first person he turns to when he has a doubt about a video, his last kiss before falling asleep.

“It feels like an eternity.” She complains a little under her breath, for the heck of it, so he leans over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.”

She does that thing she always does when he really touches her, that soft ‘oh Pete’ that is just for him but that has also generated thousands of comments on their videos. Lucas even says it’s their main ship tag on tumblr, whatever that means.

“Not even for fruitcake cookies?” she teases him gently. He doesn’t need to see her face to picture the amused smile on her lips.

“Not even… I mean, maybe one thing.”

He feels her confusion, even more so when he puts his hands on her hips as to turn her around so she’s now facing him. Her cheeks are red from the cold and the excitement of the day alike, her hair a mess, her eyes dark. She’s so beautiful, and she’s all his.

“We’ve been off-contract for over a year and a half now but… what if we signed a new one?”

Her face scrunches up, so very obviously confused at his words now, that she barely reacts when he takes a step back and reaches inside his sweater’s pocket. There’s a good ten seconds of nothing between the moment he drops to his knee and the moment LJ reacts, the longest seconds of his life. Just stunned silence, one hand against her mouth as she stares at him with the wildest, most surprised eyes ever.

Eyes that are quickly filled with tears then, when he opens the velvet box in his hands. John and he took hours picking it, something pretty yet small and discreet, something shiny but not too in-your-face. It looks perfectly her, like it was made with Lara Jean Covey in mind and nobody else.

“Lara Jean, babe… Remember last summer, when Kitty and your grandma were trying to teach me some Korean, and they explained the concept on ‘jeong’ to me? To be honest, I’m still not sure I completely understand…” She lets out a wet giggle than makes him smile in return, a huff of breath through the nose before he goes on, “but I think what we have is as close to ‘jeong’ as it gets. You’re my person, and you’ll always be my person. And I know how scared you must be right now. Truth is I’m terrified. But I want you to know you’ll never lose me. Ever. Because I love you, and I will always love you, and I want to be by your side for as long as you’ll have me. So, what do you say?”

She’s full on crying now, big tears rolling down her cheeks, so Peter stands back up to cup her face and hold her close. Her body is shivering with her sobs, but she’s laughing too, and for a moment there he’s afraid he lost her for real.

“You want to marry me?” she asks in between two hiccups.

She’s so fucking adorable, he can’t help but pull her into a hug and kiss the side of her face. “Yeah, even got a ring and stuff.”

Hysterical sobs turn to hysterical giggles right there, and he can’t help but laugh too. And hold her tighter. And kiss the side of her head again.

He’s the one to lose it when she says, “There’s no camera.”

“No, baby girl. Just us.”

“T’would have gotten so many views.”

He barks a laugh at the unexpected statement, at her mindset and how much she’s changed through those two years together. She used to frown at the blatant clickbait in his videos, and now she thinks about it during one of the most important moments of their life. Only Lara Jean…

“I don’t care about the views. I just care about you.”

She’s laugh-crying again, wet nose pressed to his collarbone when she whispers a small “Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, Peter. Of course. Yes!”

He might be laugh-crying too.

#covinsky #covinsky fanfic #covinsky ff #to all the boys I've loved before #fanfic #ff: tatbilb #ff: do it for the views #REBLOG IF YOU CRIED

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quillovesdbz · 6 years

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Week 2 submission for @tpthvegebulmayhem

Clandestine Downfall

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7

Chapter 2: A Shark Among Koi

Summary: Bulma admires her family, and reflects on the danger she causes Yamcha. The Regent devises a plan to assassinate a King Vegeta loyalist who may spread propaganda to the influenceable prince.

Rating: T

Genre: Cloak and Dagger, Fantasy, Fairytale AU, Horror, Dark Fiction

TW: Violence, conspiracy for murder, assassination, injury description, poisoning, vomiting

Prompts: Trail of Breadcrumbs, Blood of an Englishman, The boy who lied

The attack was over in seconds. The great general had won the war with a simple stab in the back. There was no need for a bloody battle when King Vegeta had double agents on the inside. Nappa cradled the dying duke of Sadala in his arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered lightly. The duke scratched at his throat, fighting for breath. But Nappa’s tiny dagger had been coated in a lethal poison. It was over in seconds for the duke. Sadala belonged to King Vegeta now. All its inhabitants would become slaves, or rebel and die. It was horrible business, but business nonetheless. The King's wife was with child for the second time, and nothing mattered more to him than providing for his people and securing a prosperous kingdom for his son to one day rule.

Nappa had spent most of his life loyal to the Duke of Sadala. But the king promised prosperity, wealth, and above all life. Yes, for the atrocious betrayal, the king promised not to kill General Nappa. The giant found himself unable to refuse when the price was his life. Coward. So he turned on his own friend, who had trusted him. His stomach felt heavy, his throat dry. He relaxed his hold on the duke, who rolled from Nappa’s lap and onto the cold stone floor. Nappa turned his head and clutched his stomach as he heaved. The bile seemed an endless stream, nearly suffocating the general. The taste was putrid and sour, the smell much worse. This is only the beginning of my punishment. Nappa lamented to himself. The hot sting of regret swept over him like waves of lava. His eyes could not contain the tears they fought to hold back. He let out an anguished scream, chilling and seemingly endless.

Then he awoke from the nightmare. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. He felt drips of perspiration down his back and neck. His sheets were wet throughout. His heart pounded incessantly, filling his ears with a rhythmic beat. He could hardly hear himself think. “Guh…” he vocalized as he tried to catch his breath. He hadn't had a nightmare quite so realistic in a long time, in fact years.

This is my ongoing punishment. Nappa lamented to himself.

…

It had been years since Vegeta had heard Nappa’s blood curdling screams in the middle of the night. It jolted him awake nonetheless. They didn't last long, the general woke himself up quite quickly. But... the prince couldn't help but wonder what trauma this man had endured to trigger such violently horrific dreams. He knew that before his father's death, there were many a bloody battle, led by the great general. But these screams weren't battle cries, nor were they cries of pain or injury. These nighttime howls were deep suffering cries. Cries of acts unable to be undone. True and raw regret, sorrow and heartache. And they chilled the prince to the bone. Though, he dared not ask of them.

The prince had always known Nappa. For as far as he could remember, the lumbering, bald man had always been there.

Vegeta sat up in his bed, squinting at the bronze rays of sunlight dancing through the drapes. His stomach bayed angrily, a call that the prince did not normally refuse. But today he wanted to avoid people. Especially Nappa. So he sighed and fell heavily into the oversized wine colored pillows.

Nappa…

Lately the general had been sick. He was hacking and coughing all day, in every wing of the castle. Someone get that man a hobby. There had been a long peace. The war the king started ended shortly after his death, and the general had been on babysitting duty ever since. When Prince Tarble and the Queen had passed, the king became ferociously protective of his first born. The first order of business was appointing a personal bodyguard to the prince, which became General Nappa. In times of peace the general would protect and train the young prince. In times of war others would be tasked with the job while Nappa led the armies in battle. The most recent political turmoil was due to the emperor of France. A sniveling lizard of a man, with a fearsome army. Emperor Frieza had tried to take over the kingdom of Vegeta in an attempt to gain more territory for France. The armies clashed in many great battles but it was ultimately a stalemate. The Regent and reluctant General Nappa called an armistice for the time being, but the emperor was not one to be trusted. And thus the mandatory enlistment was enforced.

So in this long peace, the prince and the general had become close. Though neither would ever express that sentiment.

But together they created many fond memories. In a strange way, this enemy turned double agent became a sort of father figure to the lost and lonely boy. He was the solid ground for which the prince could stand. A ribbon to hold the strands of yarn that were the prince's insecurities together. And for Nappa the prince was redemption. A cloth to wash the sins of his past away, a chance at atonement. They needed each other, these funny two, as physically contrasted as they may be.

…

“So it will be by poison?” the assassin inquired.

“Arsenic,” the Regent replied, slyly.

The assassin held the bottle to the dim candle light and examined the fine gray powder.

“This isn't the way I normally do things. I would much prefer slicing a throat or a dagger in the back. This feels…”

“Dishonorable? Any kind of killing is dishonorable, Hit. This is just a more discreet way.”

The assassin, Hit, shifted in his boots. He wasn't uncomfortable with the request, but he felt safer doing what he knew best, and he didn't know poisons.

Hit was an outsider, an englishman. The Regent selected him for his renown, there wasn’t anywhere on earth you could go without word of his work. He was taller than expected, bald and dignified. He wore a long violet cloak that held his form tightly to the waist, and loosely in the skirt. His skin was pale, almost lavender in shade, and his eyes were a blood red.

The regent sensed the unease from the killer he hired.

“It can't be helped…” The Regent began. “One trail of breadcrumbs will lead to another, and we can't risk being found out. You will not spill the blood of this, or any other man. Arsenic is the most clandestine method, and which I command you to use.”

Without argument, Hit bowed to the black clad Regent, and took his leave.

It is done. The Regent sighed internally, gliding elegantly to the crimson covered mirror.

“Mirror, mirror,” the Regent chanted, lifting the veil of drapery from the golden mirror.

“M'lord?” it answered, with the accent of a regal gentlemen.

“Will this be enough to control the prince? I will have eliminated all of the old king’s allies with the pending murder of General Nappa. There should be no supporters of his left to fill the young boy with his false propaganda.” There was a sadness in his tone, and as his words came out they fell like heavy bricks.

The mirror was silent as it felt around the otherworld for the most likely outcome.

“This plan will work under one condition. The prince will meet a blue haired girl, and fall in love. He will trust her word over yours, ultimately ending in your death. You must make sure they never meet, or kill her as well.”

The Regent pressed his fingertips on his cheek, the cup of his hand covering his mouth. His hand reeked of garlic, a side effect of coming in contact with the arsenic.

The mirror flashed a vivid image of the blue haired girl. She was pale with pink lips and a slender nose. She had a small frame, but she was taller than most girls. She looked to be about 17, the same age as the prince. She was dressed in peasant garb, no doubt a lowly commoner. She's just a girl. A peasant. How much could she mean to anybody? It would be a great hassle to hide the prince away, securing a future where he never meets her. She too must die.

…

Bulma had a horrific experience on her trek home. The forest was pitch black and foreboding. The rain beat down on the earth, the trees and the girl. Traumatized from her recent encounter with the prince, her mind was racing.

What a horrible man! She recalled. I am so lucky I am not found out, an evil person such as he would have killed me on the spot.

With each step she quickened her pace to get home as soon as possible. With each step her heartbeat also quickened. She had the most exasperating feeling that she was being watched, but she knew it was just her anxiety, heightened by the encounter.

The once full moon was completely encased by the dense tree tops. The animals rustled in the distance more so than usual, likely due to the storm. Damn animals, she reassured herself. When she knew she was close to home she untied her navy ribbon to let down her hair. It was drenched, and fell heavily to her shoulder blades. Her lie was undone, and finally she made it home.

...

Yamcha rose from bed early. He stretched his arms out and let out a long windy yawn. It was a gorgeous morning, having just rained the night before, the sun was out and dusting it's glittery dew on every leaf and blade of grass. He looked at the bed space behind him and noted its distinct emptiness. She sure was mad at me. He concluded. But just then he heard a splash coming from the washroom.

...

Bulma had stayed awake all night, frightened of the consequences she might have to face at the stables. And the trauma from the kick in her side was too painful to let her sleep. She instead watched her siblings sleep. Each one rested in their own unique way. Goku, a raven, wild haired boy, was sprawled out with a foot in Oolong’s rotund face. Oolong, a fat pink boy with short light red hair, had a hold of Goku’s entire left leg, as if it were a delicious turkey leg waiting to be eaten. Launch, a blonde petite girl, curled into Tien’s arms, one half of her body tightly to his, the other half outstretched like Goku. Tien, who was the second oldest at 9 years, had always slept far from the others in his own private corner. That is until Launch came along and she appointed the light blond boy her personal stuffed animal. He didn't mind. Chichi and Krillin were 8 year old twins who couldn't be more different. Chichi slept on her belly, legs and arms tucked in and rear in the air. Her dark hair was nearly as long as she was tall. To avoid entangling the other children she kept it braided tightly during the night. On the other side of the room, as far from his sister as possible, Krillin was on his back, arms behind his head and legs outstretched, hanging of the bed. He kept his head shaven, as he aspired to be a monk for the monastery one day. And little Lazuli, the 6 year old mute blonde girl, slept as straight as a board, hands to her side and heels at attention. It was funny how she looked just like a tiny soldier, disciplined and fearless.

After hours of listening to their small snores, Bulma picked herself up and decided to bathe before they awoke.

The scar faced delinquent stood from the bed. While hesitant at first, he decided to join Bulma in the bathroom. She was never mad at him for too long. He tiptoed so as to surprise her. He pressed his dark skinned hand to the curtain that separated their chambers and their washtub. For a split second he listened, enjoying the subtle sound of a beautiful woman washing herself gently. I’m sorry Bulma, he prepared. He never was good at talking to girls, so he went over conversations in his head quite often. I’ll make it up to you. How’s breakfast? Yeah, I’ll make breakfast. Decided on an apology, he grasped the curtain and pulled it open.

Startled, Bulma looked up from the washtub, to see the boyish face she was so frustrated with the night before. Quickly, she grabbed her side so that Yamcha didn’t see the large still-forming bruise. Unfortunately she hadn’t seen the one on her cheek from being pressed into the ground under the boot of the monarch. “Yamcha,” she said with a sincere smile.

He blushed at her nakedness and her smile, but he couldn’t help but notice the wound on her cheek. Not only was it blue from bruising, it also had quite a lot of brown dirt surrounding it. And boy, did she reek or manure.

“Gee Bulma, you stink,” he said with a hearty laugh. He bent down to her level and prepared to ask about her bruise.

“Well!” She yelled, flustered and angry that he would point out her smell.

“What happened to your face, it's all dirty and bruised. Did you fall last night? I know it rained it must have been slippery and dark on the way home.”

“That’s exactly what happened,” she lied.

He knew her too well to believe her lie. But he also knew that she didn’t like to be prodded and decided to let it go. Whatever happened was in the past, and she clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Bulma lifted her hands from her side, confident that Yamcha wouldn't prod her any further. She looked at her once feminine hands, and noted how worn they’d become. Over the last two years, working in the stables had barely fed her siblings, but had an immense effect on her youthfulness and beauty. Is this worth it? She thought as she looked spitefully at her calloused and short-nailed hands. No man will favor me when I am ready for a husband, she bemoaned.

Yamcha was bewildered by the apparent beating Bulma had taken. Yamcha began to feel the rage well up inside of him.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded at her.

She was silent and gave him a begging look, asking him to drop the subject.

“No! This is unacceptable!” he barked, some frustration leaking into the words he said to her.

“The quartermaster,” she lied, believably. If she had told him it was the prince, he’d surely get himself killed for her sake.

“I’ll kill him!”

“NO!” Bulma yelled as Yamcha stood from the tubside.

She quickly decided on the truth, because she believed Yamcha wouldn’t go after the prince, surely.

“It was the prince! I didn’t want to expose myself so I took his beating!” she pleaded.

Yamcha froze as he felt a fear make its way down his spine. All his worry and anxiety of being found out came to the surface.

When he first met Bulma, her first day working in the stables, he knew her secret. The only person she hadn’t been able to fool was Yamcha. He played it cool for a while but something drove him to confront her. When all the other stable hands had left for the day, he pinned her, like the smooth delinquent he was, and asked her why she did it.

“Why do you cross dress, Bull?”

He remembered how red and confused she became at the question. She couldn’t answer it. Her river colored eyes begged him to keep quiet. He reassured her he wouldn’t tell, so long as she promised to tell him why. So she took him home with her where he met all 7 reasons why.

Since then, their relationship was complicated at best. It was an on and off romance, but neither of them could commit. Bulma ended up relying on Yamcha for help entirely too much, a thought which now suffocated him. But she helped him too. She was the reason he stopped thieving in the night, a habit formed in his early years of being an orphan. She harbored him when he dodged the mandatory enlistment. She, and the children, became something he cared about other than himself. But they weren’t good for each other. He had a wandering eye, and he knew he couldn’t make Bulma happy. He surely couldn’t make enough money on his own to take care of all of them. She had to continue the lie, for her family, and he was the boy who lied for her.

And suddenly, it was becoming too much.

Bulma’s eyes followed the motionless boy. She wondered what went on inside that messy-haired head of his in this confusing conflict.

“I release you,” Bulma breathed. “you don’t have to keep my secret any longer. This isn’t your burden to bear, and I don’t dare to think what might happen to you if I was found out and you were charged as my accomplice.”

Her words relieved his stress slightly. He had to let go of this wild blue haired woman, that he knew. It would hurt, but there were many fish in the sea. She was releasing him, the koi fish, vibrant orange and black, into the sea. He could feel the waves of relief rush over him.

He smiled his crooked, bandit’s smile. “Thank you, Bulma. You be safe. Take care of those kids. One day, I’ll have many riches and I’ll return to you and you won’t need to dress up anymore.” He meant it.

Bulma smiled back, softly. She didn’t want him to leave her. He was safety embodied. And she was chaos and danger.

A shark among the koi.

…

His muddy boots were kicked in the corner of the room, a product of the night’s storm. The Prince had been curious of the stable boy, and thought he might be a thief. Afterall, it was exceptionally odd that a servant would still be tending the horses after dusk…

He followed the boy through a beaten but not overly so path. He stayed as far behind as he could manage, as the forest was nearly jet black. The sound of the heavy rain helped to cover the noise he created in his pursuit. What intrigued Vegeta most was that the boy lived so far from the castle. He wondered why the boy even made the commute. It wasn’t until the cottage was in view that he realized where they were. It was the old hospital. Yes, the one the insane old doctor used to run before he lost it and started kidnapping slaves. Did the doctor have a son? Vegeta pondered. Come to think of it, he looked just like the old kook, a spitting image with blue hair and eyes. Vegeta surely would have known, for it was mandatory for boys to enlist in the military for two years, just after their 15th birthday. He must be evading the enlistment. Then something unforeseen happened. She let down her hair.

Vegeta thumbed through the memory like a book. The reveal was so astonishing that the Prince almost fell over. He left promptly with the secret, vowing to return the following day with punishment. The crime of impersonating a man was one thing. But to appear in the prince’s presence and lie was another thing entirely. But he was intrigued. Before enforcing his punishment upon her and the senile doctor, he would find out why.

The prince felt a small pang of guilt when he remembered the beating he'd given the girl. He pondered about the double standard. I would've done it again regardless of gender. In fact, he began to imagine just what sort of punishment he would give her for her crimes. The old doctor may just receive a slap to the wrist. After all he was old and senile. But the girl knew what she was doing, and she did it deliberately. She would need to be jailed, and made an example of. A king can't have his subjects parading around as people they are not. Ridiculing her in the streets before her sentence would do the job. Then she could rot in a cell for all he cared.

Once he kicked off most of the crusted mud, he left his chambers in search of Nappa.

…

#tpthvegebulmayhem #vegebul #vegeta #bulma #Vegeta x Bulma #dbz #dragon ball z #dragon ball #dragon ball super #fanfic #fanfiction #au #fairytale au #chapter 2 #week 2 #clandestine downfall

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welovekpopscenarios · 7 years

Text

Trust No One (Yugyeom x Reader)

Admin: Candi Request/Idea: It was like Bonnie and Clyde or Harley and Joker, two corrupted souls that took pleasure from violence but loved each other unconditionally and worked together as a team to get what they wanted, that was until one of them didn’t want to share the spotlight anymore. Fandom: Got7 Member/reader: Yugyeom x Reader Genre: Angst, Purge AU Warnings: Trigger warning, violence, death, mention of rape, strong language Words: 3.6k Authors note: This fic is very graphic, please read at your own risk. Since it’s the month of Halloween I thought it would be cool to step away from the requests for now and write my own Halloween inspired stories. The plan is to write 3 stories, fluff, angst and smut. Hopefully I’ll get them done and you will enjoy them.

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes. Blessed by our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn.

May God be with you all."

And so, the sirens go off, the screams begin and the terror rises. This was your favourite time of year, you never failed to go out and purge and always made it back alive. You trained martial arts and practiced shooting every week and you were one of the most feared people in your city, when you went out to purge people moved out of your way, they knew who you were and they weren’t going to mess with you.

The only person that didn’t fear you was Yugyeom, he was nearly as good as you and that’s what made you such a perfect team, you two could achieve anything you desired, you could do anything you wanted, no one was going to try to stop you. You both met during a purge three years ago, he didn’t get out of your way when you went to rob a shop so naturally you went to kill him but he swerved out of the way and locked you against the wall. He was new in town and after that stunt you immediately wanted him on your team and your wish was his command, he joined you and you two have been together since.

“These sirens are like music to my ears.” You stand up from the couch and have a lengthy stretch.

“The screams are what gets me off.” Yugyeom says while taking a long drag of his cigarette and exhaling it followed by him throwing his head back and closing his eyes to prepare for today’s purge. You grabbed your favourite gun and put it into your thigh holster while Yugyeom threw on his leather jacket. You locked your whole house and activated your security system which closed off the whole house with metal barriers. After that was done you quickly made your way to the van and checked that all the ammunition, shotguns, grenades and knives were there.

“Let the show begin.” You said while you took off into the city. You gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped up, a crazy look overshadowed your face and the craziness in your eyes began to show. Yugyeom was sitting back with one foot resting where the airbag was, his hand in his hair, fingers curling it ever so slightly, his face was calm and bored, unlike yours. You were ready to murder, you missed the smell of fresh blood pouring out of people, the sound of glass breaking while you stepped into the shop and took anything you wanted, the cries and pleas of the people who were seconds away from dying.

On the way to town you got glimpses of the attractions that the city had to offer at this time. People were getting murdered by saws, they were getting raped by gangs of convicted felons that were in jail purely because they couldn’t wait until the purge to get their fix. The convicts made you laugh, such foolish people, getting arrested when they know this is legal once a year. You were different, you waited patiently, you were such a good and helpful citizen for the whole year but the purge was your time to shine, it was your chance to let every horrible thought come alive and fill the empty void inside you that got deeper the longer you waited for this thrilling event.

When you finally made it in you quickly crawled to the back of the van to get ready for what was about to happen. The gun shots, screams and hysteria were in full swing by the time you got into the city. You got your stuff ready while Yugyeom got his. He specialized in knives, he could do anything with them, he never missed a victim, if he wanted to kill some poor innocent soul that was a block away you can bet he’d succeed by throwing his knife in such a way it would sink into the persons throat and cut it like butter.

The dirty doors of the van swung open and it felt like the world stood still, it was like the purge stopped and everything was over.

“But we just got here.” You said with a mocking tone and a small pout. Everyone stared at you and Yugyeom, they tried to swallow down their fear and look away but it seemed damn near impossible. “Looks like I have to break the fucking ice.” And you fired your gun at everyone in sight, the people you missed on the first go ran towards you with their weapons but were soon defeated by Yugyeoms flying daggers. Most people were dead but some were severely injured, those people got tied up and thrown into your van because they might come useful later on.

This was just a small warmup before the big dreams became reality. Your objective for today was to set off a bomb in the building that the president was staying and bring the whole thing down. You planned this for so long, Yugyeoms brains and skills combined with yours made this possible. You knew exactly what you were doing and how you’d go about it, the security system would be a piece of cake to disassemble, the guards would be a bigger pain in the ass.

After the massacre, you collected ammo from the lifeless bodies on the ground and headed into your van to get your thoughts together.

“Fuck, are we ready to do this?” You ask Yugyeom with a hint of doubt.

“Y/N we’ve been planning this ever since we met each other.” He comes closer and presses your body against yours. His hand comes up to your cheek and caresses it. “We’re going to do this and we’re going to pull it off.” He kisses you and lets his tongue invade your mouth. You wrap your leg around his and press yourself against him.

“Come on, let’s not get sidetracked.” He breaks the kiss and goes to the front of the van, leaving you breathless.

As you made your way to the building you noticed something was off, Yugyeom was constantly on his phone and that was a rare occurrence especially during a purge, he was fidgety and there were drops of sweat forming on his forehead. You brushed it off seeing as you thought it was just nerves from the events that were about to take place but it still made you feel uneasy.

“Are you okay?” You decide to break the silence and ask. He doesn’t answer, he rubs his palm on his mouth and takes a deeper breath. “Yugyeom, you’re scaring me.”

“Just drive okay?!” He lashed out and you brought the car to a halt.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Listen, this is huge okay? We’re about to do something that everyone tries during every purge and I know for a fact this is going to work.”

“So why are you so fucking nervous?”

“I just… I don’t know Y/N. Just drive.”

You pressed on and drove in silence up until you reached the destination. You didn’t need additional stress on top of everything that was happening and Yugyeoms bullshit wasn’t something you wanted to deal with right now. You needed to stay focused and driven, you were going to do this, no matter what, you were going to do this.

After an hour of driving and avoiding trouble you were finally at the building. Everything seemed so overwhelming, it’s like every emotion that you had came crashing down on top of you and you couldn’t breathe. You stayed in the driver’s seat and tried to clear your mind. Yugyeom got out and was on his phone to someone but you were too busy to care about his shit.

“I can do this, I can fucking do this.” You tell yourself. “You’re not a little bitch, you’re able to do this. If I do this it will guarantee me safety for life. I will finally be able to move on and live in peace.”

“What’s the hold up?” Yugyeom opens the door and hurries you up.

You walk to the back of the van and open the door with Yugyeom standing behind you. You stand still for a second before grabbing any equipment to really think about what you need.

“Yugyeom what do you think you’ll ne-” Your question got cut off. All you could feel was pain, burning in your lungs, tears coming down your cheeks. The grip around your throat got tighter and tighter. Was this it? The one person you trusted and gave your heart to would be the person to put an end to your life? Ever since the incident that happened when you were younger you didn’t trust anyone until Yugyeom came around. You didn’t know what felt worse, the betrayal or the lack of oxygen. He released you just as you lost consciousness.

You open your eyes and everything looks foggy, your head still dizzy and your throat sore and dry. It takes you a while to snap out of it, you look around with a faded look on your face, being able to only make out silhouettes and different colours around you. Everything was silver and orange from the rust, there was a musky smell and you heard drips in the background.

“W-what happened? Where am I?” You ask delicately. A familiar face stands in front of you and looks at you, it was Yugyeom with a devilish smirk on his face. He shakes his head and starts laughing, you were becoming more aware of your surroundings. You were tied to a chair in what looked like a basement of an old hospital, everything was old and it smelled awful. You shook your hands and realized you were tied to the chair and there was no way out.

“As much as I’d love to share the spotlight with you I simply cannot do that.” He begins. “Imagine what people will think of me when I say I killed the president and you. I’m going to be seen as a hero.” He continued but you weren’t stupid, you saw where this was going so instead of feeling sorry for yourself you started thinking of ways to get out, still looking like your undivided attention was on him. “You might say I can’t do it without you but… I already have. See, we had a whole plan, I know exactly what to do step by step to not fuck up, all I did was take one person out of the picture.” Your eyes wandering around, looking for things to use to defend yourself. “I never needed you. I could have killed you the day we met but because I was new in town I had to make a reputation for myself, no? And the new guy going out with the biggest, bloodthirsty purger in town surely gave me one hell of a rep.” Yugyeoms habit was talking too much, in the time he was talking you already came up with a plan of how to get out. Funnily enough, him and his beefy minions didn’t do a very good job at tying you up, your legs were free and the more you pulled on the rope around your wrists the more it loosened.

“Shut up already, fuck!” Yugyeoms eyes widened at your remark. “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about your stupid plan.”

“Excuse me?” He started to walk towards you with his pocket knife in his hand.

“You think you’re so smart?” You waited for him to get close enough to you.

“I don’t see how you can be so confident when you’re obviously going to die in a second.” His pocket knife made its way to your mouth and lightly brushed off your lips.

“In the time your gob wouldn’t shut up I managed to think of something.” Before giving him the chance to react you kicked him between his legs so he’d go down to your level and you pulled your hands apart as hard as you could and with the adrenaline that was rushing through you it didn’t prove to be hard. You grabbed his head and kneed his straight in the nose. You got up and noticed his guards coming towards you, they seemed very hesitant but you didn’t want to risk it so you grabbed the knives that were laid out on the table and legged it. The guards picked up the pace and you decided to test out your knife throwing skills, surely you learned something from that lowlife during the two years you were together. To your surprise you ended up killing two out of five guards that were after you.

You ran through the long corridors of the building with no idea on how to get out of this, you didn’t even know where you were but your main focus was surviving right now. As you made your way through the corridors it became more like a maze, the corridors divided into four different sections sometimes, with doors leading to other mazes and rooms. You got lost as much as you possibly could in order to lose the running pieces of meat that were after you. After a few minutes of going from room to room, turning corners and locking doors behind you, you finally felt safe. You stumbled into a room that had a computer and a bunch of shelves with a lot of files on them, it was dark and you couldn’t make out what they were.

The computer looked old, you weren’t sure if it would work but you were willing to chance it anyway. After turning it on you noticed a lot of folders with different names on the desktop, your instinct was to click into them and watch them but what if you regretted that decision.

“Fuck it. There isn’t a lot of things that surprise me anymore.” And so, you clicked into the first name ‘Carolina’, there was a word document, a couple of picture files and a video. The word document seemed the safest to look at for now. All it appeared to be was the girl’s details and finger prints, that didn’t raise suspicions in you so you continued to snoop through the documents. Bravery took over you and you clicked into the pictures which proved to be normal enough, just shots of the girl which looked like a paparazzi took them, maybe she was famous? The last thing to look at in the folder titled ‘Carolina’ was the video, before double clicking into it you took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. The video started off with an unknown person holding the camera walking through some rooms that looked abandoned, making their way through different doors, walking endlessly. You got impatient so you skipped onto the part in the middle and what came after that terrified you, it was Yugyeom and his gang torturing and slowly killing the woman in the pictures.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” You exit out of the video and click into all of the different folders on the screen, names of men and women, same format, same type of photos, same videos. You stood up from the chair and walked around the room shaking off all the fear that was in you.

Upon further research, you noticed a folder with your name on it and your heart stood still, maybe it was coincidence? Maybe this wasn’t planned? You open it without giving it further thought and to your horror, it was you. There was a whole file on you, describing every single detail, all of your past was noted in that document. How did he know so much? How did he get all of this information? The only thing that differed from your folder was that there was no video, but there was far more pictures in your folder than the others. A lot of them were taken by Yugyeom, pictures of dates, pictures of your naked body, pictures of you sleeping.

“Tut, tut, tut. Did a little too much snooping, did we?” You shoot up from your seat and turn around to face Yugyeom, thankfully his brainless dogs were still lost in the building so he was alone.

“What the fuck is this? Who are you?”

“While you were busy trusting me, and thinking about our future together I was busy thinking of how to get rid of you.”

“That doesn’t explain all the people you have killed!”

“If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I do this for fun. I kill the most dangerous people in different towns each year and move on to the next one. Sometimes I even managed to kill three different people during just one purge and they were all so attached to me.”

“That’s so fucked up.” A nervous laugh leaves your throat.

“It’s a shame I have to kill you, you were my favourite out of all of them.”

You couldn’t hide the fact that what Yugyeom did hurt you, the feeling worsened in the pit of your stomach and you thought you were going to vomit. When you were a child someone extremely close to you hurt you so bad you never recovered from it, he knew about it and he chose to do the same thing but in a different manner. You felt weak, showing emotions in front of a detached asshole that only wanted to add you to his collection.

“Baby, don’t cry. It’s just how it is. I honestly thought you’d be smarter than this, I mean, you are the biggest killer in this city, shouldn’t you know not to trust anyone?” Once again, he caressed your cheek and made you feel all warm, as if he cared again. You couldn’t let him fool you like this, you are smart and the objective changed from the president to Yugyeom.

“Listen cunt.” You grab his wrist and squeeze so hard he squeals. “Don’t touch me. I want to make you suffer so bad, I want to literally rip into your chest and pull out your heart in front of your eyes just so you can get a taste of what I feel right now but quite frankly, I don’t have time for that right now.” You look up at him and you sense panic in his eyes, you smile at him and release the switchblade that you placed at his chest while you were talking. He shrieks from pain and falls to the ground.

You squat down to his level and you look at him mockingly while you pouted and he cried from pain.

“Aw, does it hurt? Are you scared you’re going to die?”

“Y/N, please, help me.”

Your face went from mocking to disgusted, you grabbed his hair and brought his head up. “No one is going to help you sweetheart.” You press your knife into his throat. “You should have known better.” And you slit through it like butter, just like he taught you. You dropped his lifeless head on the ground and walked out of the room only to meet his guards finally finding you.

“You’re a little bit late fellas.” You point in the direction of the dead body and the guards don’t even touch you. “Could you show me the way out? I swear I’ll spare your life, the purge is nearly over and I got what I wanted.”

The three guys took you outside and thanked you for sparing their lives. It was already bright outside so you were expecting the sirens to come back on signaling the end of this year’s purge any moment now. You saw your van parked right outside the building so you ran towards it like your life depended on it, all of your guns were still there, nothing was stolen and you felt crazy for being so overjoyed at being reunited with your van.

You sat back in your seat, Yugyeoms cigarettes still on the seat next to you. You decided to light one and enjoy it while you watched the purge come to an end. You never thought you would be in a situation like this, everything always went so smoothly for you but there was bound to be a bump on the road along the way, you just didn’t think the bump was going to be that big.

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theclintbartonbraindump · 4 years

Text

Hello + a drabble

Hello friends! Hi, how is everyone? Good year so far?

So, I realized that I hadn’t really posted anything of substance since December and I felt really bad so I wanted to come on here and give you guys a quick update. I have not been idle! I promise! I’m working on a new project (a big project) that has absolutely consumed me creatively. I’ve had like three existential crises over this thing let me tell you. I’m hoping it won’t be too much longer before I can start sharing it with you guys because I have like five chapters already that I’m just dying to post! And I’m not even halfway through writing this story! I wanted to be sure that I was in a secure enough place with the story before I started to post because, honestly, my number one pet peeve with when authors start to post a multi-chapter fic and then just stop partway through. I get it, the creative process is hard, but I don’t want to leave you guys hanging like that so I promise the wait will be worth it.

I really am so excited to share though. I’ll be honest, the theme I’m working with has kind of been done before, but I’m hoping you guys will like my take on it. I think it will be different enough to still be interesting.

In the meantime though, like I said I felt really bad for going radio silent for so long so I took a break from my primary project and wrote up a quick little drabble for you guys. I say little, it’s 1500 words. But hey I just finished writing a chapter that’s literally 8000 so I feel like 1500 is drabble length for me. I don’t really have a title for it. In fact, it’s saved on my computer under ‘word vomit’ so I’ve just decided to very lovingly and aptly dub this and all future drabbles I post ‘Brain Dumps’.

I’m rambling, I’m sorry!

This is Clint Barton x Reader per usual. For some context, this takes place about a year after the end of Endgame.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, cheating, a shit ton of angst.

He crawls in through the half-open window around a quarter to eleven. You’d left the window open to try to relieve at least a fraction of the oppressive, New York summer heat, but then again maybe you were subconsciously hoping he’d slip in. You pretend to be asleep, knowing full well you can’t fool him. It’s not that you want him to leave, it’s just been a long day and the emotional turmoil of him sliding into bed next to you may just be the last straw. You don’t want to do that to him. Not with everything he’s dealing with. He’d offer to listen if you wanted to vent, but when you’ve tried to talk before, he always just gets kind of spacey. Like he wants to listen, but his conscience won’t let him. You don’t mind anymore. You two moved past pleasantries a long time ago. He’s not a cruel man, not anymore at least, and he’d be there for you if he could, he just has other priorities. You understand. If you had been one of those fortunate souls to get everyone they loved back this probably wouldn’t even be happening. But then again, he got everyone back and he’s still here with you.

The first time he’d worn his ring in front of you, you’d wanted to cry, scream, tell him to get out. But as you lay there with him above you, chasing not just his own release but yours as well, you realized just how little it mattered. He’d lost everything and over the course of five years, he became a different person. Trauma changes you, but continued trauma like that which he experienced, shapes you. Then everyone came back and he was supposed to just be the same man, but that’s not how it works. You can’t unshape yourself. Maybe you can try to chip away at the rough edges but deep down the core of who you are is still something completely different. You accepted that about him. Maybe you were the only one that did.

There’s a ghost of a kind-hearted man behind his eyes, the same eyes that have seen so much death and anguish. But that man was swallowed up by sorrow six years ago and has never been able to reach the light again. You wish you could say that you felt the same pain he did and maybe a year ago you would have, but things have changed now. You didn’t get anyone back. The snap didn’t take them, the car crash that followed did. You still feel the loss and really just emptiness. That same loss is what shaped him, but it’s not the pain he feels now. What he feels is regret and the feeling that he’s let down the ones that he loves. Not because of you, in reality the times when he’s with you seem to be the only times that he’s able to silence all that. It’s why he came to you in the first place, it’s why he’s here now.

His feet land silently on the floor and then he turns to close the window behind him. He must want to talk; you live on a busy street and he gets annoyed when he has to talk over traffic noise. The two of you don’t talk often when he comes to see you, but when you do it’s usually well into the next morning before you give into sleep. Sometimes he stays, he even made you breakfast once, but usually, he’s gone before you wake up.

You hear him shuffling about your room as he expertly avoids the clothes you left strewn about the floor earlier before collapsing into bed. You peek out from underneath your comforter in time to catch him ease himself down onto the edge of your bed and toe-off his shoes before rather gingerly ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, save for his boxers. It isn’t unusual for him to come to see you battered and bruised and you’re no stranger to patching him up. You could probably award yourself an advanced certification in first aid with the number of minor surgeries you’ve done on him.

He stands and moves around the bed to pull the covers back on his side. When did it become his side? When did you intentionally start leaving space for him in your bed? You’re not sure. If you’re being honest, you can’t even remember how you met him anymore. Maybe he saved you at some point. Maybe you saved him. Maybe you’re both killing each other. But once again you realize just how little it matters because he’s here for you and you’re here for him and that will always be true for as long as he wants you.

Finally, with what sounds like a very pained grunt he lays back against the pillow and turns to his side, facing you. He opens his arms and without even thinking or a moment’s hesitation you move into them. It catches you off guard when his arms close around you like a vise grip and he leans his head down to bury his face in your hair. You expect him to go for your underwear, the only article of clothing you hadn’t thrown across the room earlier, but he doesn’t move. He just holds you.

You wrap your arm that isn’t sandwiched between your bodies around him and he pulls you impossibly closer until your legs are entwined. You’re about to look up and ask him what this is all about when you feel his chest start to shake faintly. In all the time you’ve known him, with all the pain the two of you have shared with each other, he’s never once cried in front of you.

You look up to meet his eyes and are met with a storm of emotions that he’s never let you see before. You bring a gentle, reassuring hand to his cheek and he turns into it and grasps it like a lifeline. He looks at you and you think it may be the first time he really allowing himself to see you. His face tells you everything you need to know at that moment. Where there was once a mask of cautious distance there is now only honesty and surrender. You get the feeling that he’s giving a part of himself to you that he hasn’t let anyone else have in a very long time.

The damn breaks and he falls apart when you reach your arms around his neck and pull him to you. You hold him and he cries and then after a while your tears mix with his because there really isn’t any point in holding them back anymore. You want to heal him, to make him whole again, but you know it’s just a fool’s hope. Neither of you will ever be whole again, really, and you both know it. But you feel closer to completeness now than you have since even before the snap. You think he must be feeling the same with the way he’s holding you to him.

In the back of your mind, you register that there’s no metal sliding against your skin where his left hand his gripping your hip. There’s a part of you that thinks you should be happy about that, but all you feel is the despondency that he’s weeping into you.

You never want him to be unhappy, no matter the circumstances.

You want to ask. If you did, he’d probably give you an honest answer, but now isn’t the time. Whatever it is, is still too raw. So, you hold him, for as long as it takes for him to shed all his tears and breath just one even breathe.

You wonder for a while as you lay there if you should say something or should you just let him sleep, but it doesn’t seem that he’s going to be at peace any time soon. You know there’s nothing you can say to make it better, but you ask him if there’s anything you can do, all the same. The tension eases out of him at the first sound of your voice and he rolls over to his back. He’s quiet for several long moments and even when he answers you, he doesn’t speak. He reaches an arm out for you and pulls you to his chest again, kissing the top of your head when you lay it over his heart. Something about the way he’s holding you seems like both a final word and a promise and you panic a little as you wonder if this is the last time you’ll see him.

He must sense your distress because he brings a hand up to your face, pulling you up to look at him. His lips meet yours in a kiss that seers your soul and imprints on your brain. It’s everything you want to say to each other but aren’t strong enough to manage yet. Tomorrow there would be questions and more than that there would need to be answers, but right now you’re more than enough for him and he’s more than enough for you and, for right now, that’s enough.

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redsdesktop · 7 years

Text

Reuniting.

This is a random one shot I had while I was at work. Had to spill it out before I went to sleep and forgot it. Inspired by Krotiation’s Murder Mystery AU. I mean. There’s not much Mystery to this story but... Lots of Murder?

Warnings: Lots of violence. You watched HTF. You know the drill.

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Splendont stood at the entrance to the strip joint, staring at the scene before him. This massacre was going to give him a headache to clean up and to do paperwork over. His hand lifted from his khaki suit jacket to rub at his forehead, he had this handled until now.

Damn his brother.

---------------

The pink neon lights cast a soft glow over rich blue hair, Splendid was dressed to the nines. His black suit jacket left open, revealing his crisp white button up dress shirt, the collar snug around his neck and finished off with a fresh black tie. He glanced up at the sign, in this district showing the outline of a nude woman on a pole was pretty much standard. However, Splendid wasn't here to see the girls, no, in fact he was here to see one man and one man alone. He reached up to push his glasses further up his nose before knocking on the metal warehouse door. A slat at eye level immediately slid open, revealing a single blue eye, so pale that it nearly blinded in with the rest of the white. After the gaze looked him up and down for inspection, he finally opened the door, holding it open.

Splendid glanced to the side to take stock of the bouncer, he wasn't overly burly but he had muscle, with the anchor tattoo and the eyepatch, he looked like a former sailor. Splendid wasn't here for him though as he kept walking down the dimly lit hallway, trimmed with more pink neon lights to help guide the way into the den of sin. It was almost like descending into the pits of hell, which he may very well be.Pushing open one of the pair of swinging doors, he was greeted by music, the atmosphere was fairly calm, this place was a private strip joint owned by none other that the leader of the mafia. It was a dangerous place to be, but nothing in his life had ever been safe. When he'd picked up the job as being a police officer, stepping up to a detective, he'd made more enemies than he could count.

Now, he was a former detective with nothing to lose.

He moved over to slide onto a bar stool in front of an empty table, leaning one elbow onto surface. The waitress came over to him to take his order, glancing over at her, he could see she was scantily clad in fishnets and a one piece corset that barely held her chest captive. The pine tree pendant resting neatly just above her cleavage, drawing the eye, in a place like this, it was what made money. "Rum and coke." He stated, having no interest in playing the casual flirt, to add on the charm, not when he wasn't here for them. Instead he was eyeing the man occupying the other table in front of him.

It seemed the green haired man had taken a notice to his arrival, tipping his light green fedora back a bit so the glint in his eyes were a bit more visible in the low light. Arrogance crawled on that devious grin as he knew who the former detective was, he'd been the one to get him fired from the force after all. Splendid had arrested Shifty's twin, hoping to draw Shifty out and boy had he. The mafia leader had acted with a vengeance, not only getting Lifty out of jail time, but getting Splendid dismissed from his job. Publicly shamed so everyone thought he was losing his edge and meddling in things that were better left alone.

The tension in the space between them was growing, but no one else in the club seemed to notice as the waitress moved towards his table with a tray in hand, balancing his drink on it perfectly. However, Shifty stuck his leg out, tripping the blue haired waitress, sending the drink flying straight at Flippy. The alcohol spilled over his front and splashed onto his face, the glass shattered on the table as the poor woman landed on the ground. Splendid would've helped her up, but he was on a mission as he flipped the table up and onto its side. The twins seemed to move into action too, both sides reaching for the insides of their coats.

It was then that chaos ensued.

Splendid was quicker at the draw, pulling his pistol out of the holster hidden beneath his jacket and fired without proper aim, but years of practicing on the firing range made up for that, the first shot slammed into Lifty's shoulder, making him stubble and pull the trigger to his half drawn gun in reflex. The bullet went wild and connected straight through the pink hair male's skull, making a gaping exit would right between his round black glasses. Since he'd been sitting near the stage, his blood splattered over the over the barely dressed woman on stang, ruining her pink hair and staining her smooth skin. She screamed out in horror and backed away from the dead man, but in her fear, she didn't realize how close to the edge of the stage she was.

She fell back, crashing into the table, sending white powder everywhere and startling the twitchy young, lime green haired man. He panicked at the loss of the white stuff that he was addicted to, leaning down on the floor, completely ignoring the fact that the topless woman who'd been on stage had her head bent at an odd angle, he eyes vacant but wide with horror. The addict was busy trying to lick the powder off the ground, lost in his own world as another gunshot rang out through the club. This time it was Shifty who fired at Splendid, his aim slightly off as the bullet only served to graze past his cheek, burning his cheek slightly before it went past him.

Splendid didn't look behind him to see the stray bullet had pierced through one of the liquor bottles the armless bartender had been preparing to use, sending not only the bullet but shards of glass straight into his chest. He could only look down at the horrifying sight, unable to grab his chest with no hands before he sunk down to the floor behind the bar, blood oozing around the shards of glass and from the hole in his chest. Crimson liquid began to mix with the alcohol on the floor as the rum dripped down from the counter above. Another shot. Splendid wasn't phased by the bullet that had whizzed by his face and aimed at Shifty while Lifty was busy sobbing on the ground because of the wound in his arm.

Splendid had managed to land a shot in Shifty's gut, making the mafia leader stumble back, holding his abdomen as if to try to staunch the flow of blood. The waitress who'd been on the ground, pushed herself up, seeing that people were dying, she got up and made a break for it before she ended up like the others. When she ran, she turned her head to look back, to make sure the two sides were still distracted. Without watching where she was going, her stiletto heel came down on the addict's face, piercing straight through one of his eyes, causing him to scream and the waitress to fall forward from the momentum. Unable to stop her fall, her arms pinwheeled before her head slammed into one of the speakers, the electrical wiring sparking, making her entire body seize from being electrocuted.

Shifty fired again, without aim, but it landed dead center into Splendid's chest, causing blood to blossom out in a fountain before him, knocking him back off his feet and onto the ground with a heavy thud. Shifty stumbled back, having lost quite a lot of blood from the wound in his gut, from the pain the bullet had it something vital. With all the blood, his and his brother's, on the floor, he slipped on it, falling to land on top of his brother, who cried out from having weight on his wound. Shifty's gun went off on accident, firing up at the ceiling, hitting one of the connectors to the dance lights. With it lose from the rafters in the ceiling, it creaked ominously, that was the only warning the twins had before it snapped free under its weight and fell.

The spotlight crushed a good portion of Shifty's chest and all of Lifty's head, spraying blood and brain matter across the tile floor in a gruesome display. When it was all done, Splendid lay on the floor, his hand over his chest but made no attempt to call for help, he knew if he entered here that he wouldn't be leaving. That was what he wanted, after getting his vengeance, he wanted to depart from the world and rejoin the love of his life. Shifty had taken everything from him. His job, his reputation, and most importantly, Flippy. To come home after being fired from his job, expecting the comfort of his husband, he had found what had remained of the love of his life. His eyes drifted close, feeling at peace knowing he would see those green eyes soon.

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Splendont crouched beside the prone form of his older brother, the man he looked up to, had tried his best to help put Shifty behind bars for Splendid. He'd been far too late. He reached out to his twin's hand that was clutched to his bloodied chest. Splendont brushed his thumb over the ring that was still adorned on Splendid's finger, Splendont should have known, should've seen the signs. If he was ever going to be a detective like his brother, he needed to be better than this. He pried open those cold fingers and he wasn't surprised to see the matching ring resting in his palm. Splendont shouldn't be touching everything, contaminating evidence, but this was his brother. He gently pried the ring off Splendid's stiff finger, pocketing both so they wouldn't be lost in the evidence locker.

Now Splendont had lost two people he loved.

#htf #splendid #splendont #shifty #happy tree friends #crime au?#gore #just blood everywhere #dying #why do i like to cause myself pain #aaaaaaaaa

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